I head out to the living room wearing the T-shirt Evan lent me (it comes down to my knees, so it’s more like a nightgown) and my jeans from yesterday. I expect to see Evan, but there’s no sign of him. I notice a piece of paper on the otherwise immaculate coffee table, so I go to pick it up. It’s a note from Evan.
Alani,
Sorry I had to leave early this morning. I’m in the middle of a case that can’t be ignored. I won’t be long, but in the meantime, make yourself at home. I’ve let the staff know I have a guest staying with me, so feel free to call in room service. Whatever you do, don’t leave the place. I’ll call to check on you later.
Evan
The man is infuriating! After already verbally telling me several times last night to stay put and hearing me agree not to go anywhere, he still feels the need to put it in writing the next day. And the anal jerk has the nerve to tell me that he’ll be checking on me like I’m some truant child! I already know I’m going to hate living here, but it’s not like I have many options.
I decide to explore the condo...more specifically, where Evan sleeps. I tell myself that I’m not snooping—it’s for educational purposes. After all, you can tell a lot about a person based on their personal space, and nothing is more personal than someone’s bedroom.
I thought his bedroom would be different, but it’s just like the rest of the place—beautifully decorated, but impersonal. The furniture is made from a dark, expensive-looking wood and everything goes well together with his blue walls, down to the dark blue bedding on his king size bed, which is perfectly made. Glancing around the room, one would think that Evan has the perfect life—rich, immaculate, polished, and beautiful. He’s well put together and has everything in order. But if you look closer, you’d see what’s missing—all of his personal stuff, they’re hidden. Aside from the furniture, the place is barren and doesn’t look lived in. Looking around his room, it makes me sad to see that it’s all for show. His life is a smokescreen, so no one can truly see him for who he is. The realization leaves me with a lot of unanswered questions. Part of me wants to dive in and dig up what Evan is hiding, to find the place where he keeps his secrets and all the hurt locked away. But, I need to respect his space—if he’s hiding something, it’s probably for a good reason. Besides, the Evan I know already scares the hell out of me. I don’t think I’m ready to uncover the part of him that he keeps hidden. While I understand that he’d never physically harm me, I don’t know him well enough to know what he’s capable of or what he’s thinking at any given time.
I close the door to Evan’s bedroom and make my way back to the main living area. Gaining a bit of insight into the puzzle that is Evan only serves to confuse me more, along with my feelings about him. Right now, I’m confused and I’m pissed...and I need a drink. I’m pissed that the three monsters from my past still control me, forcing me to stay at Evan’s and stranding me with the one man I was hoping to avoid. Hopefully, a bit of alcohol will help sort me out. I search for Evan’s stash and find a well-stocked wine cabinet—it’s a wine lover’s paradise. I recognize a lot of the brands since my parents keep stock of a few of them in their hotels. I decide to try the Latour a Pomerol 2010. I find a glass and pour myself a drink. WOW, this is good! I finish the glass in no time and pour myself another. I can feel the alcohol kick in and my body starts to mellow, my worries slipping away. I go turn some music on and Avicii’s “Wake Me Up” begins to play. As I hear the lyrics, I wonder if Evan downloaded this song because he related to it or just thought it was a catchy tune.
The view outside catches my eye and I head out to the balcony to sit and enjoy the Chicago skyline. It’s surprisingly chilly out for an August morning, but deeply breathing in the cool air helps to calm me down. Chicago is already amazing, but it’s even better when you can view it from way up here. I loved growing up in Chicago—my brother Nick and I had an amazing nanny who knew the ins and outs of this city. I remember Nanny Melanie taking us to different attractions like the Chicago Children’s Museum when I was six. She played all day long with my brother and me—she basically raised us. I know my parents loved us, but they were extremely busy building their business. They missed a lot of things as Nick and I were growing up, so I never felt a connection with them. It used to bother me that my parents never showed up for any of my stuff, and that’s why I refuse to have children. I love my job and want to be able to dedicate 100% to it. I don’t want to have kids if I can’t devote my time to them like my parents. Don’t get me wrong, I love Molly’s boys, but spending time with them confirmed that I didn’t want my own. They’re adorable, but when Landon or Lane start to cry, I always eagerly passed them back to their mom, or whoever can comfort them. I’d never be able to provide that for them—I don’t have the maternal instincts that people think all women have.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear “American Boy” by Estelle and Kanye West come on in the background. I nearly fall on my ass laughing that it’s even on Evan’s playlist. I jump up and dance my way into the living room with my empty wine glass. I refill my glass and muse that Evan will be coming home to a drunk. Oh well, that’s what he gets for forcing me to stay inside. Eyes closed, one hand raised above my head and wine glass in the other, I move my body to the music, getting lost in the song. When I open my eyes, I see Evan standing a few feet in front of me, looking pissed. I stand there, frozen in place by his steady gaze. Not breaking eye contact, he starts nodding his head to the music. Before long, his shoulders are grooving from side to side and he’s loosening his blue tie as he makes his way towards me. He reminds me of a sexy predator, stalking his prey. I feel my face start to heat up, unsure if it’s from the wine, the embarrassment of being caught acting like a fool, or the sexual longing rising in me as he slowly pulls his tie out of his shirt collar and tosses it on the couch. Playfully dancing around me, he smiles and begins to unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. I now realize that I made a mistake thinking his intense gaze was out of anger—I would have fared better had he just been pissed. I’m not prepared for this side of Evan, the one teasing me like he’s my own personal male stripper. My jaw has to be somewhere in the vicinity of the floor next to the puddle of my saliva.
Coming up behind me, he puts an arm around my waist, encouraging my body to move along with his to the rhythm of the song. “Come on, Alani. Don’t let me stop you from having a little fun,” he seductively whispers in my ear. “Whatever’s keeping you so wound up, just let it go.”
The feel of his hot breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. I’m hypnotized by the way we’re gyrating together. I need to get away from him before I wind up doing something I regret.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Evan,” I reply with a shake of my head while simultaneously breaking his hold and moving away from him. As I try to walk off, he grabs my hand to stop me. The music changes to a slow tune, Sam Smith’s “Stay with Me”. Great, perfect timing, as if Evan needed any help! I send out a few curse words to the universe for conspiring against me.
“Come on, Alani, let loose with me,” he persuades, pulling me towards him. I know I shouldn’t, but I allow him to draw me into his arms. Evan’s right, I’m always wound up. A little dancing wouldn’t hurt.
Evan
Alani feels so good in my arms. Why doesn’t she get that? I don’t know why she insists on fighting what’s between us, but I’m not going to rush her. I keep my hands in a light grip on the small of her back. She’s probably not even aware that she’s pulling me closer against her, wrapping her arms tightly around me and placing her head on my chest as we sway to the music. The woman wants me and she’s mine—she just has to admit it to herself first. The song ends and she steps out of our embrace.
“Sorry I drank your wine,” she awkwardly apologizes, gesturing lamely to the nearly empty wine glass in her hand. Apparently, we’re going to avoid talking about us and it pisses me off.
“Don’t sweat it,” I reply gruffly, abruptly walking away from her
. She can be incredibly frustrating! When I look at her, I see all woman, but her actions and words are those of some annoying high school girl. I realize I don’t know much about her and maybe she’s right, saying my obsession is based on the idea I have of her and not who she is. Someday, we’re going to need to sit down and talk about us, but because of all the shit that’s going on, I know it won’t be anytime soon. So for now, I’ll settle for her friendship and hope that she accepts mine.
Lani
I’ve been staying at Evan’s for a few days now and things have become awkward and tense between us. I haven’t figured out how to act around him or what to say to him ever since he stalked off after our dance. I know I could have probably handled things a lot better than stupidly apologizing for drinking his wine right after the moment we shared, but I was still reeling from it and trying to sort through my feelings. I know he was pissed, but having him walk away before we could discuss things didn’t help. I felt rejected when Evan turned his back on me and walked away, like I wasn’t worth his time and effort. It brought back some of my childhood insecurities and I haven’t been able to act normal around him since.
Neither of us seems comfortable being around the other, always being polite and treading lightly. I’ve noticed that he keeps wearing those long sleeved button up shirts, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of me. My presence here has to be intruding on his life and disrupting his normal habits and routines. It irritates me that he can’t relax in his own home by putting on shorts and a T-shirt like he probably would if he was by himself. It’s not that I just want to see more of his skin, but he should at least be able to wear something more comfortable. If he’d loosen up, then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m imposing on him so much. In an effort to give him some of his space back, I’ve been avoiding him and mostly staying in my room. Hopefully, I can figure something out soon so he can get his bachelor pad and life back.
Chapter 5
Evan
A few days has passed and Alani seems intent on avoiding me. We haven’t spoken much since the dance we shared. I’ve tried talking to her several times, but she doesn’t say much, and it’s making me tense around her. I mentioned it to Noah and he said I probably just need to give Alani and I time to adjust to one another. But, I’m impatient to get rid of the strain between us, so I’m hoping we can sort things out when we talk tonight. I think she finally agreed to sit down with me because tomorrow is her reunion and we can’t go in looking like the strangers that we are.
Alani comes out of the bedroom. “Do you only wear button ups?” she asks, sounding annoyed.
Well, only recently—ever since the tattoos dedicated to her started to cover more than just my chest. The last one was done Tuesday morning, after her first night in my apartment. I had ‘Close’ added. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me. I thought that since she’s now living with me, we’d get to know each other and become closer than we’ve ever been. I realize that I was an idiot and that women are more complex than I thought.
“Not always,” I answer in a clipped tone, hoping she moves on. She drops it, but looks bothered by my response.
“Okay, so what do you want to talk about?” she inquires, heading towards the living room couch.
“People are going to be talking to us at your reunion, and I want to make sure we have our story straight,” I reply, sitting down across from her. “Let’s start with high school—what it was like, your favorite teacher, and if you played any sports.” Alani shifts in her seat and hang her head down.
“High school was terrible. I was the miserable geek with braces, Coke bottle glasses, and no friends—well, until Kerrigan. It was bad,” she relates sadly, then looks up. “I didn’t play sports, and my favorite teacher was Mrs. Everly.”
“I doubt you were a geek,” I tell her with a chuckle. I can’t picture that at all. She gives me a small smile in return.
“Oh, it was bad, trust me. Casey Miller, the queen bee of our high school, made my life hell because of how I looked! When Kerrigan and I became best friends, Casey made it a point to be meaner—well, only whenever Kerrigan wasn’t around. Kerrigan was the only one who had more pull in high school than Casey, so when Kerrigan and I became friends, things got better. Plus, I got my braces off and started wearing contacts.”
I sit and process what Alani has revealed about her past. There’s nothing I hate more than punks who think they’re better than others. People say that I’m a bully—and it’s helped me get to where I am today—but what they don’t realize is that I always fight for the underdog. I take on tyrants and I destroy them. If Casey Miller is at this reunion, I hope for her sake that she’s changed.
“So, what about us?” I ask, changing the subject. “What are we going to tell people we are?”
“Boyfriend and girlfriend, I guess,” Alani replies. “And we’ve been dating for the last two years.” We go over some more details and fill in our background to make our non-existent relationship sound more credible.
“You want to go grab dinner? We can go pick up your dress,” I suggest after we wrap up.
“Yeah, sounds good. And thanks for doing all of this, I really appreciate it. I promise, I’m trying to think of something so I can get out of your hair and you can get your space back.”
She thinks I want her out? “Alani, you’re free to stay as long as you want,” I tell her.
“Well, let’s see what happens tomorrow and we can go from there,” she replies vaguely.
As uncomfortable as things have been with Alani in my apartment, I want her to stay and be in my life—forever.
When we arrive at the new Italian place, I ask the waiter for a table in a private corner. Lani seems more relaxed tonight and I want to take advantage of that. She’s been unusually chatty and it’s put me at ease. After we take our seats, we quickly browse through the menu and place our order with the waiter. As we wait for our food, we engage in conversation.
“What were you like in high school, Evan? I bet you were a jock—an arrogant jock,” she guesses with a know-it-all grin. I don’t like to talk about my past, but she’s finally in a good mood and I don’t want to ruin it.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I was not a jock. I didn’t play any sports,” I answer to humor her.
“That actually surprises me,” she replies thoughtfully.
“Why?” I curiously ask.
“Well, you don’t lack in confidence and the world seems to do what you say. I just figured that maybe being in sports helped you develop your self-esteem and constantly winning turned you into the cocky, confident bastard that you are now,” she responds good-naturedly before taking a sip of her wine.
“The confidence is something that happened over time. And calling me a cocky bastard? The wine must have gone straight to your head,” I tease. Wanting to shut this conversation down before she pries any further, I say, “Tell me about your family.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to ask that—I don’t want to have to answer in return if she asks me about mine.
“My parents are great, and I have a brother, Nick. They all work at the two hotels my parents own,” she responds easily.
“Why did you decide not to go down that career path?” I question, intrigued by her choice. It would certainly have been a lot safer than what she’s gotten herself into.
“Well, that was the plan up until what happened in high school. After that, I knew I needed to do more—to help victims. I was lucky enough to have escaped a worse fate that night, and I still can’t let it go. Imagine what Missy suffered, and even before I found out it was her, I wanted to help people like her. I want to help people like Missy and me, who stay trapped in the past,” she passionately reveals.
Part of me wants to be a male chauvinistic pig and tell her that a woman has no business being a private investigator, that she can’t handle it, and should stick to working for her family’s hotels. But it’s just because it’s Alani, and I don’t want her getting hurt. Instead, I com
ment, “I’m glad you found your calling.”
“What about you? What made you become a lawyer?” she asks turning the attention to me.
“My story is similar to yours, I wanted to help people victimized by others.” Thankfully, our food arrives and I’m spared from saying anything more. I really don’t want to go into my past with her, so I dig into my food. I keep stuffing my face in order to look busy. Every time it looks like she’s about to say something, I insert another fork full of food in my mouth, occasionally gesturing to our meal and making small noises to exaggerate how much I enjoy the food. She laughs at my antics, and it gives me pleasure to know I’m the one putting the smile on her face. I join her in laughter after swallowing my food, and I feel the tension of the past few days ease between us.
“I want to thank you again for opening up your home to me,” she says in a silky soft, feminine tone. Her voice instantly has my dick’s attention.
“You’re very welcome. And you can stop hiding from me, you know,” I playfully tease with a wink and a smile.
Uncovering Stone Page 4