by Jana Aston
“I was six, asshole!”
He calms himself and nods. “I need a pet name for you then, if I’m going to compete with Finn for your affections.”
“There’s no competition.”
“You’re right. Finn isn’t competing, so the game’s mine.” He shoots me a wink and I groan. “Commando.”
“What?”
“I’ll call you Commando,” he replies. “Since we’re doing nicknames based on first meetings.”
It takes me a second to process what he’s saying. “I’m wearing underwear!”
He nods. “Good. Tell me about them.”
“No! You’re really aggressive, you know that?”
“Coming from you I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say dismissively and cross my legs. I tap on my phone screen wondering if I can calculate how much longer I’m going to be trapped in this car.
“Boots.”
“What?” I wonder if there’s something wrong with him. Isn’t there a disorder that causes people to randomly blurt out words that make no sense? That’s probably what he has. I’m gonna check on WebMD.
“I’ll call you Boots,” he says, nodding at my legs. I’m wearing brown knee-high boots, my jeans tucked into them. My legs look incredible. I planned this outfit from head to toe. For Finn. “Since you vetoed Commando, we’ll go with Boots.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.”
Six
Six Years Ago
“Chloe, zip me up, please.” I turn my back to her, holding the front of my homecoming dress against my chest to hold the dress up.
“Done,” she announces and I move to the mirror to check my reflection. Jewelry’s on. Hair’s done. Killer high heels I’ve had to negotiate for since school started are on my feet. I turn my attention to Chloe. She looks perfect, but she’s tugging at her dress in a way that betrays her discomfort.
“Stop fidgeting. You’re beautiful. Own it.”
She drops her hands and stands a little straighter, then darts a look in the mirror to verify what I’m saying. Chloe would happily do nothing but study and pad her college resume with volunteer projects if it weren’t for me forcing her to experience high school. She is beautiful, when she’s not hiding behind an oversized sweatshirt and a stack of textbooks. Her hair is almost red, but not quite—too much brown intermixed to make her truly a redhead—but she’s got a sprinkling of freckles, true to her Irish heritage.
“Let’s go downstairs and wait for Tim and Dave. They should be here any second and Mom will want a million pictures.” I check my clutch to make sure my lipstick is still there. Then I check Chloe’s for her because she’d never think to put it there in the first place.
We’re on the bottom step when I hear him. Finn Camden is here. My heart pounds and I pause abruptly in the foyer, causing Chloe to bump into me. I haven’t seen Finn in two years. Not since the summer after he graduated from college. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried, and believe me, I’ve tried. There’s no way he can’t notice me looking like this. Notice me. Like I’m a woman, not a little kid. Not Eric’s little sister.
“Who the hell allowed you to get those shoes?” Eric emerges from the basement stairwell carrying one of the chairs to an old dining set that’s been taking up space in the basement ever since Mom replaced ours a few years ago.
Finn appears a moment later with a matching chair. His hair is tousled and he’s got the hint of a summer tan left. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt and I try to ogle as much as I can with my brother standing right next to him. I take a mental picture so I can write down every detail of this encounter in my diary later.
“Shortcake!” He smiles at me and I wait for it. For that flash of recognition to cross his face. The one that says I’m not a child anymore. The one that says he finds me attractive. The one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. But I get… nothing. Just the same friendly grin I’ve gotten my whole life.
“Dad, are you letting her leave the house in those shoes?”
Dad has just emerged from the basement with a third chair and Eric doesn’t waste a second letting his opinion on my footwear be known. Thank God he never moved back in after college. I’d have died a virgin. He’s more protective than both of our parents combined.
“That’s between your mother and Everly. I stay out of it,” Dad tells him as he kisses my forehead. “You look lovely, princess,” he says to me. “Be good and don’t wear yourself out tonight. You don’t want to fall asleep again during the football game tomorrow.”
Ugh. I see Eric smirking at me from the corner of my eye but I ignore him.
“What are you guys doing?” I nod to the chairs.
“Mom’s donating our old table set to Finn’s new apartment.” Eric slaps Finn on the back. “He got a job at Penn. This fool is going to be teaching the future of America.”
“I don’t know about the future of America, buddy. A few thousand Economics students, maybe.” Finn shrugs and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s grown up, I realize. He’s filled out. Not the skinny high school boy I remember. He’s fit, with a runner’s physique, and I remember that he ran cross-country for Summit High School.
I joined cross-country freshman year. It was the worst afternoon of my high-school life. So we aren’t going to be one of those couples who jog together. No biggie.
They head out the door with the dining chairs as I turn to Chloe. “Well, looks like we’re going to Penn. College decision done.”
“Well, one of us has the transcript for Penn,” she says slowly, wrinkling her nose at me.
“Ugh. How hard could it be?” I eye the door, hoping for another glimpse of Finn.
Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s Ivy League, Everly.”
“So I’ll Legally Blonde myself together.”
“Good plan. You remember how that movie ended, don’t you?”
I nod. “She gets the guy.”
“Not the guy she got into law school for.”
Humph. Sometimes Chloe is just so literal. “It’s an outline, Chloe. We can edit as we go.”
There’s a commotion at the door as Tim and Dave arrive, followed by Dad, Eric and Finn. I check Finn’s face for jealousy. Nope. None. Tim’s eyes bug out when he sees me though, which mollifies me slightly. Eric slaps a firm hand on his shoulder and leans in, I assume to threaten him. Meanwhile, Dave shuffles over to Chloe with an awkward hello. She is never getting laid.
“Pictures!” Mom emerges from the kitchen with her professional-grade camera. She’s a middle-school librarian, not a photographer. I’m not sure which she loves more—slicing open a new case of books for the library shelves, or documenting her children’s milestones on film.
She named us after the authors of her favorite children’s books. She even decorated both of our nurseries in honor of our namesakes. I know this because there are pictures.
It’s junior year. I know the drill by now. The sooner we take the obligatory shots, the sooner we can leave for the dance. I grab Tim’s hand and lead him to the fireplace. Mom loves this shot. Behind her Eric is doing the universal, “I’m watching you,” gesture, pointing two fingers from his eyes to Tim’s. “Ignore him,” I tell Tim. “Smile for my mom so we can get out of here.”
I glance over at Finn, but he’s not looking in my direction at all. He’s glancing at his phone and saying goodbye to Eric. He’s not even interested enough to look? I know I’m still young, but he could look. He’s just too good a guy, I decide. He still views me as Eric’s little sister. Off limits. But that will change when I turn eighteen. I know it will. I’ll get into Penn. He’ll see me as an adult—a young one, but legal. And eventually he’ll see me as so much more.
I can be patient.
Seven
Present
“You’re not saving yourself for him, are you?”
I’m checking my Facebook when he starts talking again. I stop on a picture in m
y timeline. My friend Sophie just posted pictures from Thanksgiving with her new boyfriend. Those two are looking awfully cozy. Let’s see what else she posted this weekend. I click on her profile but I don’t get to see much because a second later the phone is removed from my grasp and slid into the inside breast pocket of his blazer.
“That’s my phone.”
“This is my car.”
“So?”
“So we’re getting to know one another and you’re being rude.”
Is this guy nuts? I eye his pocket and decide it’s a lost cause while he’s driving. Sighing, I fold my hands in my lap and watch the traffic. “We’re not getting to know each other. You’re giving me a lift home, and that’s the end of this story.” I lift a finger to gesture between us.
“Back to my question. Are you saving yourself for Finn?” He tilts his head in my direction and cocks an eyebrow in question.
Is he seriously asking me if I’m still a virgin?
“I’m twenty-two, asshole. I’m practicing for Finn, not saving myself for him.”
There’s a hint of a smirk on his face that makes me want to punch him, or watch porn with him. I’m not sure which and it confuses me. I wish he wasn’t so attractive. He’d be easier to ignore.
He runs a hand over his jaw. I think he’s trying to wipe the smirk off of his annoying face. “Glad to hear it, Everly, glad to hear it.”
“Are you?” I don’t care what his thoughts are on my sex life. My question is sarcasm, at best. “I think it’s weird that you have an opinion about my sexual history and rude that you’re bringing it up.” There.
He nods. “I’m glad you’ll appreciate what you’re getting.”
“What?”
“I’m glad you’ll appreciate me.”
I lean against the window and stare at him.
“I’ve been practicing as well,” he continues.
“For a lot longer,” I interrupt.
He grins. “Right. I’ve been practicing longer than you have and I’m glad to know you have a baseline to judge me by.”
“A baseline.” I turn a bit in my seat so I can tuck my left leg onto the seat. “A baseline is what we’re calling my sexual experience?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Unless you wanna tell me their names. We’ll go with baseline. Did you want to get into specifics?” He runs his gaze over my face while I pull my right leg up onto the seat and really get comfortable.
“Because you’re better?”
“Yes.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident.”
I put up a hand. “So you’re glad I’m having sex with other men. Because you think I’m going to sleep with you at some point and I’ll be blown away by your mad sexual skills?”
“Had.”
I lift an eyebrow in question.
“I’m glad you’ve had sex with other men. In the past.” He checks the rearview and changes lanes. I watch his profile while he maneuvers the car. He is confident, I’ll give him that. From the moment I met him, an hour ago, he’s not shown me a moment of anything other than exhausting confidence. “You are a bit younger than me.”
“A lot.”
He glowers at me. “I’m four years older than Finn. It’s hardly any different.”
I shrug.
“So you’re younger than I am. I’m glad you won’t have to wonder if it’s different between us. Because you’ll know that it is. The second I lay a finger on you, you’ll know.”
See what I mean about the confidence?
Eight
Three Years Ago
I survey the disaster that is my new room in Stroh Hall at the University of Pennsylvania. Half my clothes are lying on the unmade bed. My desk is covered with toiletries. Bags of stuff cover the floor. But the mini-fridge is plugged in. That’s a start.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay and help you unpack?” My mom eyes the mess with a worried frown. “I could find your sheets and make the bed at least.”
“Helen, come on. Let’s hit the road. Everly is going to combust if we don’t get out of her hair.” My dad puts an arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. “She’s only going to be three hours away, honey.”
My mom plants a smile on her face and hugs me. “We’re so proud of you, Everly.”
“I know, Mom.”
Dad winks at me from the door. She’s having a hard time with the idea of being an empty-nester. My dad’s taking it just fine and has planned a surprise trip to Paris to celebrate and help distract her. They’re leaving tomorrow evening. He’s going to pick up fresh croissants for breakfast and tell her to pack her bags. My parents are adorable. Perfect, really.
They had my brother just a couple of years out of college, and me eight years after that, so they’re still young. Well, young for parents of grown children. They both celebrated their fiftieth birthdays during my senior year, and they’re healthy, active people. I get my dark hair from my mom. Hers is shorter than mine, but still the same chocolate color. Dad’s turning a little grey, but his hair is much lighter than ours to begin with. It looks good on him, distinguished. They could easily pass for parents of middle-schoolers, instead of an eighteen- and a twenty-six-year-old.
I feel a pang of homesickness as I hug her goodbye, and it surprises me. I’ve been so focused on getting into Penn, on laying the groundwork for my own perfect future, that I didn’t stop to think about how it would feel to leave. It’s silly. I’m three hours from home. They’ll be back in a few weeks to take me to dinner, I’m sure. But still, this is it. I’ll never live in their house as a child again.
They leave and I survey the disaster. Chloe’s side of the room is perfect, naturally. She moved in this morning, her side unpacked and not a stray box to be seen. I flop onto her made bed and open a text message to Finn.
This is the first time I’ve had his phone number. Eric sent us a group text last week.
Everly, this is Finn’s number. If you get arrested, use it.
Ha, ha, I’d written back.
And then Finn had typed, If you have any questions about the campus, shoot me a message, followed by a smiley face. That’s an invitation, right?
I tap my bottom lip with my finger and think about what I should type. Hey, Finn, I start. I’m all moved in. I glance over at my mess. My things are in the room, so technically I’m not lying. Do you have time to give me a campus tour? I hit send.
I’m not completely nuts. I’m a freshman. He’s a teacher. This will take some time. My expectations are set accordingly. We’ll start with flirting. He’ll see me as off limits at first. But I’ll wear him down. I have four years. That’s my plan. Freshman and sophomore years we’ll establish a friendship. We’ll date other people. I’ll bide my time. By junior year he’ll be thinking about me when he jerks off. Senior year, I’ll make my move.
The door swings open and Chloe walks in, looking triumphant.
“Everly! The library here is…” She puffs out a breath. “It’s only a seven-minute walk!” I scoot over and she flops down onto the bed beside me. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for Finn to text me back.”
“Everly.” She groans.
“What? It’s perfectly appropriate for Finn to give me a tour of campus.”
“Nothing in your head is appropriate.”
My phone dings. We both lean over the screen and read it together. Sure thing, he’s replied. Which building are you in?
Stroh Hall, I respond immediately.
I’ll meet you out front tomorrow at 8 am and give you the walking tour. Make sure you know where the library is and where to find decent coffee during a midnight study session.
8 am? Now I’m the one groaning. There’s no chance of stretching an 8 am meeting into a lunch. This guy is clueless.
See you at 8! I reply and roll off the bed. I toss my phone aside and dig into the bag with my sheets so I can get my bed sorted out.
“There are a lot of men in the world, Everly,�
� Chloe says, watching me working. “Finn Camden is not the only guy out there.”
“Of course he’s not,” I agree while securing the fitted sheet around the bottom corner of the mattress.
“But you’re so convinced he’s the one.”
“The right one, yes.”
“I don’t see it, Everly.” She says this softly, like it pains her to say it out loud. “I don’t see how you two would make a good match, and I don’t want you to miss out on the right guy because you’re so fixated on Finn.”
I finish with the fitted sheet and sit down. “But I’m not, Chloe. I dated Tim for two years and I dated Mark all summer. But they’re just boys, you know? Long term, it’s really important to choose wisely. I don’t want to get it wrong and spend half my life shuttling kids back and forth to their fathers or dealing with my ex’s new wife.”
“Like my family?” Chloe says, and it’s not a question, it’s a statement. Her dad didn’t even show up for graduation, too busy with his new family.
I nod. “Yeah, like that. And like seventy percent of our classmates. So if I choose wisely I can avoid a lot of heartache. I just have to be smart.”
“That’s a lofty goal, Everly Jensen.”
I grin. “You know I love a challenge.”
She nods. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t waste too much time chasing the wrong guy or you might miss the right one.”
“Deal. If someone who is better for me than Finn Camden comes along, I’ll give him a fair shot.”
Nine
Present
“So we’ve established that you’ve been stalking Finn since you were six.”
I shift in my seat and yank the sleeves of my sweater down to my fingertips. “I’m not sure anything I’ve done qualifies as stalking.”
He slides an incredulous glance my way.
“Fine.” I huff. “I’m not sure anything prior to the last year qualified as stalking.”
“Better answer,” he agrees. “So you’ve been following Finn’s life,” he says slowly, “in a friendly way, since you were a kid.”