I walk out into the stairwell, book sack in hand, two tiny hairs better than dead. When I look up and find Ever crouched over on the bottom stair, I see he’s not doing much better than me. His clothes are a rumpled mess, his hair sticks out in every direction, and his face is dark and unshaven. Okay, the unshaven face is pretty damn hot, but the rest of him looks like he’s been run over by a dump truck. There’s a cup of coffee sitting beside him.
He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees me. He stands up and hands me the coffee. He’s on me in a moment, hands squeezing my neck, eyes searching my face.
“Low, thank God. How do you feel?”
One side of my mouth quirks up as I hold his wrists. “Eh, I’ve been better. I’m hoping this coffee will bring me back to life.”
“I-I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry. I was so stupid…”
“Wait,” I say, confused. “What are you sorry for?”
He shakes his head and looks to the ground. “I gave you that pill. And then you drank the wine. It was so stupid of me—”
I put a finger over his mouth to stop him and shake my head. “No, that’s not what happened. I took the pill, and I drank the wine. That’s my fault, not yours.”
His expression is doubtful, only looking up at me for a moment. “What exactly do you remember from last night, Low?”
“I was just going over it in my head, and I think I remember most of it. Dinner, Remy coming over, us fooling around … after that, it gets a little hazy.” I search my brain for the precise point when things go blank, but it doesn’t work that way. I see little snippets, but not enough to piece together the puzzle. “Oh! I remember “Nights in White Satin.” God, I love that song …”
“What kind of asshole takes advantage of his messed up girlfriend? I’m so sorry I let things go that far, Low. I should have realized you weren’t in your right mind—”
“Ever, stop! I knew exactly what we were doing.”
“I promise you, it won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again, okay?” He pulls me closer, eyes a bit frantic and pleading.
I huff, more than a little frustrated with him. “It damn well better happen again. Please, stop beating yourself up about this. Honestly, the parts that I remember of last night were amazing. The not remembering things is kind of scary, so I probably won’t take any more pills, but I know I’m safe with you.”
“You’re too trusting of me,” he says. “I was so scared. I even called Remy to help, and that asshole pretty much told me I was on my own. I should have punched his smug face.”
I chuckle, giving him a little shake and a smile. “It’s not like he could make me unswallow the pill. You’re being way too hard on yourself and Remy. I’m the one at fault here, so let’s forget about it, okay?”
“I should have protected you,” he says. The guilt painted all over his expression is frustrating … and so, so sad. My Ever carries the weight of the world, and all its problems, on his shoulders.
“You did,” I say, and he shakes his head in protest. I squeeze his neck and kiss his scruffy chin. “You did. Now, will you please protect me while I walk to the cafeteria and lay down some greasy food on top of this queasy stomach?”
That gets me half a smile, but even so, he still feels a million miles away.
“I’m impressed with these marks, Marlo. It’s challenging coming in to this environment in your senior year, but you’ve flourished. Congratulations,” Mrs. Santos says with a pleased smile.
My haggard appearance notwithstanding, I beam at her praise. My smile may look more like I’m grimacing through the pain, but the emotion is real. I worked hard for those grades—juggling a new school, friends, rediscovered family, and my job at the market.
“I know we discussed this at the beginning of the year, so it should be no surprise to you, but once this semester’s over, you’ll have all your basic requirements for graduation.” She flips through the papers on her desk, nodding her approval. There’s a stack of folders to her right, undoubtedly each of her students’ records and grade reports. “This next semester is all about AP classes and bulking up your college application. How do you feel about that?”
“How do I feel about technically graduating high school in a few weeks? Ummm … fabulous?” I say with a laugh, and she laughs, too.
“Yes, well, I hope you take this opportunity to build onto the foundation you’ve started here, not just rest on your laurels. This is your opportunity to wow the admissions boards, impress those teachers who will be writing your letters of recommendation, get a jump start on your college career. Are we on the same page?”
Is there a tiny part of me that wants to be the star student in basket weaving … or vegetable gardening? Absolutely. But somehow I doubt that Orleans Academy offers such intellectually titillating courses. I push the thought aside, anyway, knowing in the end, it means too much to me to make Nana and Dad proud. Riding the easy train all semester definitely won’t accomplish that, no matter how intricate my basket is.
I lean forward in my chair, course schedule open in my lap. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”
Marlo
“HEY, ARE YOU coming to dinner at Evelyn’s tomorrow? They’re back from New York, and she asked about you when she texted.”
I quicken my pace to catch up with Ever, dodging and weaving around the oncoming people. He shoots me a slight glance over his shoulder, but doesn’t slow down in the least.
“I’ve got too much going on. I don’t think I can,” he says without even taking a second to think about it.
“I’m sure you can spare a couple of hours. I’ll even cover for you at the market so you can study in the storage room,” I offer, reaching for his arm.
He pulls away.
He. Pulls. Away.
“I said I can’t.”
I come to a complete stop and just stare at his retreating back. I don’t chase, and I sure as hell don’t beg, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why Ever is dead set on making me do both.
He’s half a block away before he notices I didn’t follow, and has the nerve to act put out when he does. He tosses his hands in the air and stalks back to me when he finally gets the message that I’m not budging.
“What the hell, Marlo? Come on,” he says, irritation flickering over his face.
“What the hell? What the hell?” My voice rises with each word, and I give him a quick shove. “I should be asking you that question. You haven’t met me on the roof since last week; I can count on one hand how many times you’ve talked to or texted me all week, and now you’re backing out of dinner at Evelyn’s?”
He releases a labored sigh. “I’m not backing out. I never said I would go in the first place.” I reach up to shove him again, and he throws his hands up in defense. “Look, not all of us got glowing reports at our advisor meetings, okay?”
He starts walking again, head lowered and shoulders hunched. I catch up to him and tug the back of his shirt.
“Hey, I can help you, if you want. I can be a brutal slave driver, if you need someone to keep you motivated. We can study in the commons room instead of meeting on the roof,” I suggest, wishing he didn’t look so defeated. I hate sounding like I’m begging for his attention, but I won’t let him go so easily.
“I don’t need help. I just need—” he says as we walk up to the entrance of the market. He opens the door, and turns to look at me with a resigned frown. “I just need some space, Low.”
The bell on top of the door rings as he enters, and I hang back, completely and utterly stunned.
“I’ve seen more of you this week than I have all year, Marlo. What gives? Trouble in paradise?”
I flinch at Charlotte’s remark, because it’s absolutely true, but also because I feel like a giant girlie douchebag who ditches her friends for boys, then pops back up like a bad habit. I can’t remember the last time I hung out in our dorm room with the girls.
“You could say that,” I mutter under
my breath. “Is it wrong that I want to hack off his annoying balls and give them to the cafeteria to serve to him as meatball stew?”
“Damn, girl,” Delilah says with a laugh. “You want to feed him his own testicles? Gotta say, I’m a little afraid of you right now.”
“Good,” I say, imagining a castrated Ever slurping his stew, none the wiser. I feel oddly comforted … and a little off kilter, but I roll with it, anyway. “Revenge is a dish better served in a stew.”
Charlotte closes her notebook and turns around in her desk. “He narrowly missed castration last week when he carried your comatose ass into this room. Why should this week be any different?”
“My drunken state really wasn’t his fault,” I say, and Charlotte shoots daggers at me. “What? It’s true, I swear! It was all my doing. Believe me, I’m beyond pissed at him, but just not for what happened last week.”
Delilah clucks her tongue and shakes her finger at me. “That’s why I like to keep things easy breezy. Stay away from the broody ones, Low. They’re nothing but trouble.”
I laugh, more than happy to change the subject and get the attention off Ever and me. Honestly, I’m not even sure if there is an Ever and me anymore…
“You don’t stay with anyone long enough to even have a fight, Delilah, broody or otherwise.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, her expression daring Delilah to deny it.
She just shrugs and smiles. “What can I say? I love beginnings. The fire, the sizzle, the newness of it all. Nothing that happens after the beginning could ever compare to that, so I do the logical thing. I find another beginning.”
I bark out a laugh. “God, when I think of my beginning with Ever, I don’t know how it could have been any worse.”
“Huh, maybe it was a sign,” Charlotte says, cocking her head to the side and giving me a grim smile.
I don’t want to believe that. The beginning may have been rocky, but the middle? The middle makes me gooey just thinking about it. And I refuse to believe this is our ending. I don’t know what’s going on with Ever, but I know we’ll get past it. Just last week, I didn’t think we could be any closer or feel any stronger for each other. Today?
Ever left for the weekend without so much as a word.
It stung like a bitch, and I want to shake him. I want to force him to tell me what’s swirling around in that head of his, but that’s not how he works. Unfortunately, he’ll only open up to me when he’s good and ready.
For his sake, he better hope I’m still willing to listen.
With only a week left until Thanksgiving break, I feel the pressure of time crushing my chest.
Sunday night, I sit cross-legged on the roof, journal in hand and ear buds going full blast.
Ever never shows…
Marlo
“FOR YOU,” I say with a giggle and a curtsy, the beater in my hand outstretched to a grinning Remy. He licks the vanilla bean frosting off the beater, then moans in pleasure.
Remy’s had a lot to grin about this week with all the extra attention and baked goods I’ve been showering him with. Ever’s cold shoulder is about one degree away from giving me frostbite, so I’d much rather spend my time shooting the shit with Remy. If it makes Ever jealous in the least, well that’s a score for the home team in my opinion.
“That’s goddamn delicious. I think I’m in love,” Remy says with another lick and groan. I giggle. Ever rolls his eyes.
He’s got some nerve. Brass balls, I tell you.
No calls, no texts, no late nights on the roof, and no freaking explanation for any of it. All I get is an escort to work every day who has mastered the art of flat expressions and one-word answers.
How do you think you did on that test, Ever?
Good.
What are you doing for Thanksgiving break?
Nothing.
Exactly how big is the foot that is expertly jammed up your ass?
Huge.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t ask him the last question, but it’s only because I already know the answer. The foot in his ass makes Shaquille O’Neal’s clod hopper look puny. It’s giant. It’s so big, it could fill up all the space he’d asked me for when giving me the brush off. Speaking of that, who goes from the wet hump of the century to nada in a matter of days?
Me, that’s who. And I’m not happy.
I’m hurt. And confused. And downright pissed.
I look across the store at Ever restocking shelves, and I have to admit, he looks miserable. He’d asked for space, and I’m trying to honor that, as hard as it may be. I’m sure he’ll talk to me when he’s ready, and I should be patient with him. But I deserve an explanation, don’t I?
He’ll come to me when he’s got his shit sorted, so I should keep quiet.
He’d asked for space, and that’s what I should give him.
Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. I’m done doing that.
After cleaning up my station, I mosey on over to him and the box of olive jars he’s unpacking. I grab a few jars, and stock the shelves right alongside of him. This earns me a side glare.
Like I give a shit.
“So, this is how it’s going to be from now on?” I ask Ever as I straighten the labels on the shelf. “You ignoring me? Pretending I don’t exist? How very mature of you.”
He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s more mature than you know.”
“It’s mature to pretend we weren’t together just last week? It’s all grown up to just drop me without a word of explanation? How the hell do you figure that? Because when I look at you, I don’t see anything but a coward.”
His expression is defeated, and he doesn’t even flinch as I fling insult after insult. It feels a lot like kicking a dead horse in the gut. Telling him exactly what I think of his disappearing act is not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be.
“I know that, Marlo. Don’t you see? I am a coward. And a jerk. And a screw up.” He runs a rough hand over his face, and I hear the scrape of his five o’clock shadow. “You deserve to be with someone who’s as amazing as you are, not an asshole who can’t see past the fog of his fucking life. I’m doing you a favor. Take it.”
He lunges slightly at his last words, eyes more alive than I’ve seen all week. Alive with what? I’m afraid it’s resolve.
“That’s ridiculous. I know this is about that stupid pill,” I whisper low enough so no one else can hear me. “I’m not letting you walk away from me because you blame yourself for something I did. I should be thanking you for taking care of me when I was an idiot. So thank you.”
I reach for his arm, but he steps back, unfazed by my argument.
“You would say that. I would expect you to say that. You have this way about you, Marlo. You make excuses for those you care about. You have this knack for taking care of people who need it, but don’t necessarily deserve it.” He picks up the empty box and dangles it from his hand. It drags the ground as it swings, scraping the floor back and forth. “I certainly don’t deserve it.”
I swat the box from his hand, my anger and frustration infinitely stronger than his grip, and it skids across the concrete floor. He watches it until it comes to a stop, then turns to stare at me with an incredulous glare.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. If you gave two shits about me, you would never turn your back on me without a word. I damn well know I don’t deserve that.”
I stalk away from Ever and rejoin Remy at the deli counter. He shakes his head as Ever sulks away looking utterly defeated.
“Easy killer,” Remy says under his breath. “I thought I was going to have to jump up and defend poor Ever.”
I release a pent-up sigh. “What can I say? When I get mad, I get handsy.” I shrug. “He’s being a stubborn ass. I want to shake some sense into him.”
“Aw, now give him a break, huh?” Remy bumps my shoulders and smiles apologetically.
“You deserve better,” I mock, with furrowed brows and a deep Ever-like voice. “I’m damaged goods. I’ll
damage his goods, all right.”
That gets a laugh from Remy, but he sobers quickly and touches my arm. “You didn’t see how torn up he was that night, Low. He feels like he let you down, and I promise you, nobody is better at beating the shit out of Ever than Ever. Patience is a virtue.”
I narrow my eyes at Remy, then honor him with Marlo’s special nipple twist.
“Yow!” He grabs his left nipple and pouts like a big, fat baby.
“And revenge is a dish better served cold. So if my patience doesn’t pay off, I’ll twist more than his damn nipple, I can promise that.”
Remy inches ever so slightly away from me, watching for any sudden movements and rubbing his left nipple. I’ve made my point.
Simmering underneath my anger is a ball of dread, knowing there are only two days left until I leave for Thanksgiving break. Then, shortly after that is Christmas break. I’ll be a state away for most of the next two months, with little to no contact with Ever. Even worse than that, he and I are oceans away from where we were just a few short weeks ago, and I haven’t the foggiest clue how to bridge the gap.
Ever
MARLO AND I leave the market together. Well, scratch that. We leave the market at the same time, but definitely not together. A heavy coat of tension and frustration hovers over both of us, turning my stomach and stifling my voice. It’s suffocating. I think of Marlo as my freedom, my air, but right now, I can’t breathe.
I wish I could make her understand how into her I am, how deep this thing goes for me. But she also needs to understand, in the end, my feelings don’t change a thing. I need her to see this from my perspective, and I hope she won’t hate me for it.
She rounds the city block to make our way back to the dormitory, but I catch her arm and tug. I tip my head in the other direction and give her a tight smile.
Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Page 17