Lavender. It’s mixed with the smell of smoke this time, thanks to Evelyn’s keen cooking prowess.
“Magical, huh?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but if it’s about the two of us, magical about sums it up. How else can I be transformed from the doomsday asshole of a few weeks ago into the optimistic, carefree guy standing here today?
Magic and Marlo.
“Oh yeah. Your food and my baking? We’d run them all out of town,” she says with a sweep of her hand. “People would line up around the block to eat at our restaurant. Magic.”
I chuckle. “I bet they would.”
We walk in silence for a stretch, and Marlo is deep in thought. I leave her to it, just enjoying being beside her, the silky feel of her palm sliding against mine.
“Do you think it’s strange for Evelyn to offer us her house when she’s not home? I mean, what kind of parent would do that?” she asks, looking baffled by the entire thing.
“A guilty one,” I say, and she looks even more confused. Good for her. I’m glad Marlo doesn’t know the concessions a mother or father will make to assuage their guilt for crimes of the past. It means she has at least one parent with his head on straight. “Whether it be divorce, neglect, poor decisions … the what doesn’t really matter. Sins of the past tend to make for leniency in the future. ‘Sure you can drink a glass of wine with dinner, then maybe you’ll forget I haven’t made it to a baseball game all year.’ Get what I’m saying?”
She releases a long sigh. “Yeah, but it sucks. I was kind of psyched at the prospect of us having a place to hideout, but now it feels more like a consolation prize. ‘I left your for a decade and a half, so use my house as ‘Booty Call Central.’ I mean, who does that?”
Welcome to my world.
I hate that she has to see this side of things. Things have spiraled so far out of control in my family, consolation prizes disappeared long ago. Guilt doesn’t hide behind new cars and extra privileges. It stands front and center, for all to revel in its supreme repugnance.
“Hey, I don’t want you to think Evelyn is a bad person. I’m not saying that at all. Parents are people, just like you and me, and we don’t come with instruction manuals. She’s fumbling through this, but it says a lot that she reached out to you after all these years. Right?” I smile at her when she nods her agreement.
“I’m gonna focus on the positive when it comes to Evelyn. No matter, what, I’m still me, right?”
I nod slowly and tip my head to the few raindrops dotting my forehead and cheeks. I meet her gaze and brush an errant raindrop off her cheek. I watch her lashes flutter as she looks up into my eyes, and I whisper, “Magic.” Then I tip my head and cover her lips with mine.
The kiss lasts only a moment. We open our eyes and watch each other without parting. She giggles into my mouth as the drops of rain become fat and plenty. She grabs my hand and races down the sidewalk, dodging sidewalk cracks and potholes like a stealthy ninja. I’m three hops away from face planting when I pull her into the storefront alcove of an antique lace shop.
We’re soaked. I don’t think there’s a single inch of my body that escaped the rain’s wrath. The heavy rain roars above us and splatters onto the sidewalk and road. The sheets of rain fall behind us, acting as a curtain to the outside world, shielding us from the chaos just steps away.
My fingers weave into her drenched hair, and I lean her against the store window. I run the flat of my palm from the back of her neck, down her chest, to rest over her fluttering heart. Her back bows to meet my touch, and I crush her body to mine as my forehead rests on hers.
My lips crash into hers as she claws at my shirt, needing more, and I groan at her acceptance.
Yes, I need it all.
I take a bite of her cold lips, in direct opposition with her warm tongue that slides into my mouth. We’re both hungry, starving for each other.
“I don’t want to leave you this weekend,” I whisper. “I want to be with you for your birthday, but I can’t stay. I can’t leave East alone. I’m so sorry.”
Before I finish talking, she’s already shaking her head. “I don’t care. I don’t care about that. It’s just a day,” she says, framing my face with her hands. “You’re here today, and that’s what matters. So kiss me.”
I look up to see the shop owner crack open the door, her lace shawl pulled tight and her hair rolled like a 1920s flapper girl. Just when I think she’s going to throw us out into the pouring rain, her lips curve into a conspiratorial smile and she quietly shuts the door behind her, leaving Marlo and me in our alcove with the curtains drawn from the world.
Marlo
I WAKE UP the next morning to my ringing phone and the morning sun barely peeking through the blinds. After avoiding a nosedive off the top bunk to my certain death, I swipe the phone from the desk below.
“What?” I whisper, not even attempting to clear the frog from my throat.
“Happy birthday, Low. I wanted to be the first to talk to my baby girl on her big day. And don’t say a word, because no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my baby,” Dad says, sounding like he’s been awake for hours.
“Dad, we don’t have a Rowdy the Rooster here. We don’t get up at—“I turn the phone over to catch the time. “Five in the morning. We don’t even get up at six in the morning.”
He chuckles, unfazed by my snark, and I hear Nana grumbling in the background.
“Hand it over. It’s my turn.” There’s a rustling over the phone, a distinct clank, and then incoherent muttering from my dad. He should know better than to fight Nana. Nothing good ever comes from that. “I can’t believe you’re a state away and I can’t give you a birthday hug. I need to squeeze you, Low. Tight, tight.”
I sigh, a smile tugging at my lips while my eyes stay shut. I imagine Nana with the phone in one hand and a spatula in the other. If I had to guess, she took a spatula to Dad’s head when she ripped the phone away. I bet he’s scowling on the other side of the kitchen right now.
“I wish you were here, Nana. Or I was there. I just … I wish we were all together today,” I admit, feeling more homesick in this one moment than ever before.
“Thanksgiving break can’t get here soon enough. And then Christmas. I just might squeeze the life out of you when you get here, girl. That’s if Fisher doesn’t drown you in slobber. That old mutt is useless without you. The squirrels don’t even catch his attention.”
Thinking of Fisher is a pang to my already homesick heart. I don’t miss Texas, not really. I miss my family, and that’s where they happen to be. I wish I could erase the miles between us, but we could all be in the place that makes us happy. Being here feels right to me—just as right as it feels for my dad to be in the fields and with his cattle.
“Give Fisher big kisses for me. And Dad, too,” I say, feeling rushed, knowing she’ll grow tired of talking on the phone any minute. She doesn’t have the patience for it. “You can even hug Declan, too. Maybe give him a wedgie while you’re at it.”
She laughs. “I keep far away from your brother’s drawers, thank you very much,” she says, before clearing her throat. “I love ya, girl, even if you’re growing up way too fast for my liking.”
“Love you, Nana,” I whisper, letting sleep and dreams of home overtake me as I hang up the phone.
Although nothing can beat Nana’s five layer chocolate fudge cake, a birthday must-have at my insistence, my eighteenth is shaping up to be memorable in its own right.
An early morning roommate party in the top bunk with a pile of Pixie Sticks and Chewy Sweet Tarts? Check.
A text from Evelyn, inviting me to an old-fashioned slumber party at her house tomorrow night? Check.
A quasi strip tease and terrible rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Marilyn Monroe style, courtesy of a tone deaf Jeb? Check.
Yes, today is shaping up to be quite the birthday in every way except one.
No Ever.
I didn’t see him in the
cafeteria for breakfast or lunch, and I haven’t passed him in the hall, either. It’s odd not to bump into him at least once in a day. And now, as I sit in fine arts, with my neck craned to the door waiting for him, I really start to worry. He’s going to see his brother for the weekend, like always, but he never leaves until after class. Surely, he wouldn’t take off without saying a word? No “happy birthday,” “kiss my ass,” nothing?
Class begins with no Ever, and I feel deflated. Just last night, I was the luckiest girl in the world. Now, I feel like nothing more than a convenience, or an afterthought … or maybe he doesn’t care about me at all. When I think of him just disappearing without a word, I wonder if what he feels for me is even a fraction of what I’m beginning to feel for him.
I trudge back to my dorm room, fighting back the bummed feeling threatening to overtake this day. After tossing my book sack into the corner of the room, I grab my phone from my desk drawer with the intention of calling Evelyn to firm up our plans for tomorrow night. Two new texts from Ever are waiting for me. The first one was sent at seven o’clock this morning, right after I left for breakfast.
Ever: I hate to leave without seeing you today, but something’s come up with Easton. I’m so sorry, Low. Happy Birthday. You don’t know how much I wish I could be in two places at once today.
I smile, because after talking with Nana and Dad this morning, I know exactly how he feels. Unlike me, Ever lives in a perpetual state of conflict about this very thing. It must be so difficult for him to want to be there for his brother and attend school hours away from him. I wish I understood more about Easton’s condition, but Ever is an expert at evading that particular topic. It’s not like it takes much effort to distract me—a little tongue action, and I turn into a puddle of goo.
Ever: There may be a birthday something waiting for you at our spot.
A giggle escapes as I dash out the door without a second thought. I pass Charlotte and Delilah on the way out, but wave them off when they try to stop me.
I bound up the stairs, grateful the fourth floor is empty. I don’t want any wandering eyes to catch me on the roof. By some miracle, Ever and I are the only students who know about the hideout, and I want to keep it that way. Alone time is hard to come by at school, and I cherish every second I get with Ever.
I see it the second I open the door. A tiny box sits right in our spot, against the wall. It’s all very boy-like. It’s just a cardboard box held together with what looks like an entire roll of scotch tape. No wrapping paper, no ribbon, and no card to speak of. I chuckle to myself, thinking of Ever having an all-out war with the tape. From the looks of this box, the tape won, hands-down.
I tear the layers away, open the lid, and peek inside. It’s no bigger than my fist, but it’s the most beautiful bunch of blue flowers I’ve ever seen. I gently lift them out of the box and see the stems are held together by a white ribbon tied into a perfectly cinched bow. No scotch tape this time.
I bring the bouquet closer, and that’s when I realize they aren’t flowers at all. It’s colored paper that’s been expertly folded and glued, and I love knowing I can keep them forever. They’ll never wilt away and die.
There’s a note attached to the white bow, and also an envelope at the bottom of the box. I decide to go for the note first.
Happy birthday to Low,
I wish like hell I didn’t have to go,
But Mary and Jane will keep you company,
If you just untie the bow.
I finger the silk ribbon, hating to ruin the perfection of it all. Curiosity get the best of me, and I gently tug. The ribbon falls away, and the stems of the flowers roll to the side, revealing a carefully placed joint in the middle of the bouquet.
I gasp and close my hands around the stems, looking around for witnesses, even though I’m alone. I bark out a laugh, my nerves taking over. I quickly slide the joint back in place and tie the ribbon around the flowers. I enjoy getting high as much as the next person, but what’s the fun in smoking by myself? I’d rather save the joint for when Ever is here to keep me company.
I place the flowers back in the box and open the envelope. There’s one folded sheet of paper in there, and I recognize Ever’s slanted script right away.
I wish I had the balls to pick the third floor lock and sneak into your room right now. But I know if I did that, no way in hell could I leave you. I’m so sorry I won’t be here when you wake up.
Happy birthday, Low. Even though I have to be somewhere else today, don’t think for a second that part of me isn’t there, with you. I know I’m missing this one, but I hope I’ll be there for many birthdays to come. I’ve never been able to think more than a day or two into the future.
Until you.
Now you’re all I see. And I don’t see that changing.
Ever
It takes Ever four rings to answer the phone, and when he does, he sounds exhausted and frustrated. I hate to bother him when he’s obviously stressed, but I want him to know I can be there for him the way he’s been there for me.
“Marlo,” he breathes, my name coupled with a sigh of relief.
“Is everything all right, Ever? Is there anything I can do?” The chances of me being able to help Ever right now are slim, but it’s important to me that he knows I want to.
“Yeah, everything’s okay now. Easton had a seizure last night. He’s had a seizure disorder since birth, but they seem to be happening more frequently in the last year.” He lets out a tense sigh. “The one last night was especially bad, and he gets so disoriented and agitated after. One of his nurses called me because they knew I’d want to be there for him. I got here as soon as I could, and besides a bruised up left arm, he’s doing well.”
“Thank God,” I say, relieved that Easton is okay. No, I’ve never met him, but I hear the love in Ever’s voice any time he talks about him. It’s obvious how strong the bond is between the brothers. “I’m glad to hear he’s all right.”
“Yeah.” There’s a short silence on the line, and I wonder what he’s thinking. “I wish you were here. I mean, I have to be here with Easton, but I wish you could be with me.”
“I got my present.” I chuckle. “The flowers are beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Well, someone gave me short notice that it was her birthday, so I had to be resourceful. I owe that junior, Alice, a term paper on Wuthering Heights and a pair of Jeb’s boxer shorts.”
“What the hell does she want with Jeb’s underwear?”
“Hell if I know. The things I do for you.” He laughs. “She may be a strange chick, but she makes some pretty sick flowers, right? They’re forget-me-nots.”
Like I could ever forget him.
“They’re perfect. And you won’t hear any complaints out of me about Jeb’s underwear. She can make a shrine to the stinky things, for all I care,” I say with a laugh. “As for the rest of your present, I’ll save it for when I see you Sunday night. There’s no fun in partying alone, is there?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Alone is the only way I partied until you, Low. It was getting pretty lonely on that roof before you showed up.”
“Hmmmm,” I say, because I’m at a loss. When I think of Ever sitting up here night after night, getting high all alone, it bugs me. It feels so isolating and depressing. Ever can be a bit broody, but I see less and less of that side of him every day.
I change the subject, telling him about my day and about the slumber party with Evelyn tomorrow night. He seems more relaxed by the end of the call, and I hope I played a part in that.
“So Sunday,” I say, already counting the hours until I see him again.
“Sunday. And Low, about last night.”
“Yes?” My cheeks flush at the thought of us drenched from the rain, grasping at each other as if we were starving. I close my eyes and remember the feel of his palm pushing against my breast, the hungry gasps as he sucked my tongue, my lips, the curve of my neck.
“Last night
was…”
“Everything,” I blurt out before my mind can stop my mouth.
He chuckles softly. “Exactly. It was every single thing. And so are you, Low. I just … I want you to know that.”
“Okay.” Not the most intelligent response, but it’s all I’ve got right now.
“See you Sunday?”
“Okay.” Jeez, I sound like an idiot.
We say goodbye, while one solitary thought runs on a constant loop through my mind.
Every. Single. Thing.
Marlo
“I ESPECIALLY LIKE long chains.” Evelyn reaches up and drops the locket around my neck, then shifts back a bit to admire it. “They’re a great way to bring attention to the girls.”
She grabs her breasts and squeezes before falling back into the chair with laughter. I look down and see she’s right. My boobs look fantastic. I grab them and squeeze, too, making Evelyn laugh even harder. Her wine swishes in her glass, dangerously close to sloshing out and staining the rug. She doesn’t seem to notice or care.
Dusk is settling, and I’ve been at Evelyn’s house since early afternoon. Most of the students at Orleans Academy live close enough to go home on the weekends, so the dorm can get pretty boring on Saturdays and Sundays. We started the day with lunch at Galatoire’s, then headed to her favorite spa for mani/pedis. Once we returned to her house, Evelyn brought down three jewelry chests brimming with rings, bracelets, and necklaces of all types and style. Her taste ranges from gypsy to vintage, and everything in between.
I have a sapphire cocktail ring on my left hand, an emerald on my right, and the most gorgeous vintage cameo choker laced through a black ribbon wrapped around my throat. With the new addition of the long-chained lockets, I’ve never felt so fancy.
Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Page 13