“Maybe it’s fate,” Easton said.
At first, I worried he might like me, and I was giving him the wrong impression, but then I remembered that he was the only one that knew my existence was temporary. Why would anyone want to get involved with that baggage? And if he were crazy enough to actually want me in my broken state, it was kind of like having a get out of jail free card. There were too many excuses to pick from.
“Maybe,” I said, still contemplating my stance.
“Do you come here often?” Easton asked and took a bite of pie.
I ripped my box so the edges would lay flat like a plate. “I . . . don’t, really. I just wanted something sweet.” I shrugged.
I was still reeling from the soda and Skittles I ate off my floorboards. I frowned at the thought of my dishonesty. Was I ever going to tell the truth again? I slumped as I continued to disappoint myself.
“Actually, I came here looking for you.” I took a bite of the pie and I tried to build the courage to keep going.
“You came here looking for me?” Easton asked, his eyebrows lifting. I feared his surprise came from me telling the truth and not that I was looking for him.
I pushed away the pie that I never wanted in the first place and turned my full attention to Easton. It was time to be honest. I owed that to myself.
“I tried to tell my parents, but it didn’t go so well. They were so happy that I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth. I don’t think I’m ready to tell them, and I’m not sure I ever will be. Do you think that makes me a bad person?” I looked down at my feet, afraid of what his eyes might say.
Easton took a moment to think. I could hear it in his deep sigh. “No,” he said in a tone too high to convince me that he was telling the truth. I peeked up at him. “I mean, it’s your life. You get to live the way you want to, and that’s the beauty of it, right? It doesn’t make you bad or good to live the way you desire to,” Easton said as he dug himself out of his hole. It worked, though. The profound guilt about my decision not to tell my family began to lift. The corners of my lips lifted as I nodded my head, accepting his point of view.
“Thank you for that. You’ve somehow managed to put my mind at ease. That’s not an easy task. Especially not these days,” I said.
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help.” Easton took his last bite and pushed his plate away. “Now, you said you were looking for me?”
Was my update not enough of a reason? I raked my mind for other lies. I couldn’t tell him I needed him to be my fake boyfriend. It was absurd and embarrassing, and that was just the beginning. I pulled out the note from inside my jacket. It was just my name and number, thank God.
“I wanted to give this to you.” I slid him the note on top of the bar.
His face bent with curiosity, and he opened the folded paper.
“You know, just in case you needed anything.” I tried to make it sound like it was for him and not me. I don’t know why that was my first instinct, but it was. I hated the way I felt like I couldn’t simply ask for help. Sue gathered Easton’s plate and handed him the check.
“OK, thanks for this.” Easton smiled and put the note in his back pocket before turning his attention towards his check.
I’m not sure if he was calling my bluff or not, but I felt the panic creep in. Was that it? That couldn’t be it!
“Um, well like, maybe you want to hang out or something? You know if that was the case, you could call me too.” I waved my hand in the air as if it were nothing. But in all honesty, he was the only one keeping me sane, and I needed him for my mental health. I also needed him not to blow my whole boyfriend story.
Easton slammed the pen down on his check and turned to me. “You don’t have time for games,” he said matter-of-factly. His tone was sharp, his words cutting.
I looked away from his glacier blue eyes. It hurt to hear. I felt like Yeti cowering in the admission of guilt. He was right. He was always right.
“If you tell me that the number is for me to call if I need you, I’m not calling. Like I told you before, I’m fine. Would you mind telling me why you really came here looking for me? And what this number is really about?” Easton lowered his head to try to make eye contact with me. Reluctantly, I let him.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. The number isn’t for you. It’s for me. I need a friend right now”—my eyes began to well up—“and you’re the only one who understands me . . . as odd as that is, given the fact that you’re a total stranger to me. I just feel really alone.” A single tear dripped down my cheek, and I wiped it away as quickly as it came. I tilted my head back and blinked several times, urging the tears to stop their madness.
“I would really appreciate it if I could just call you sometime or if we could hang out. That’s all.” I lowered my head to find Easton with an apologetic look on his face. My confession was all he wanted. Not the part that brought me to tears.
“There, was that so hard?” Easton asked and handed me his napkin.
I rolled my eyes. Damn boy. I blotted the corner of my eyes, and Easton chuckled at my theatrics.
“Look, I value honesty. If you want to be my friend, you have to be honest.” Easton held out his hand.
I looked up into his eyes. They were full of sincerity. I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was warm and strong. My dad always told me that a firm handshake was important in a man. He would like Easton.
“Deal,” I said, ignoring my omission of truth. Eventually, I would tell him when he wasn’t a stranger, and I was ready to laugh about the lie I told my family.
We both stood and tucked in our barstools. Easton said goodbye to Sue, and I waited while he made her smile one last time. We made our way out of the diner and through the parking lot. Easton walked me to my truck. I opened my door but stopped before getting inside. The cold air wrapped around my neck, and I zipped my jacket as high as it would go.
“So, when are we going to hang out, friend?” Easton asked me, and a genuine smile spread across my face. It felt good to have a friend.
A black sedan pulled into the parking lot and caught my eye. I peered over Easton’s shoulder. Heat washed over my cheeks as I realized that it was my mom. Again. My eyes grew wide, causing Easton to look behind him. No. No. No . . .
The clacking of my mom’s shoes became louder. Easton was thrilled and took full enjoyment in my discomfort. He was probably the only person that would enjoy my embarrassment in my condition. And perhaps, it was the very reason I liked him. Liked him?
“Mrs. Beck! How wonderful to see you again. How has your day been?”
I prayed that she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. But I knew my mother, and I knew that wasn’t going to be the case.
“Easton! Hello again!” Mom laughed as she grabbed at his arm. “Dear, I just saw your truck as I was driving to the market and I thought . . . don’t you have school today?” Mom looked down at her watch.
Clover was a small town. If my red truck was in a parking lot, every local in this town knew I was inside; and if Mom was driving to the supermarket and I was playing hooky, I was sure to be discovered. I thought this was frustrating when I was in high school, but it was even worse now that I was an adult.
“My teacher let us out early,” I said, my eyes shifting between the two of them.
“Ohhh. OK. So, how was dinner last night?” Mom looked at Easton, then me.
Shit!
“Oh, yeah, we had fun. It was a good night.” I nodded my head. Easton didn’t have to know who “we” was, right? It could have been a girl’s night out for all he knew.
“Well, I won’t keep you two. Easton, I do hope you will come over for dinner soon?” Mom grabbed at Easton’s arm again, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“It’s a date!” Easton said, smiling first at my mom and then me. Her face lit up.
All three of us stood in a silent web of lies until Easton broke the ice. “Well, I’ll see you tonight then?” He ra
ised his eyebrows at me and cocked his head to the side.
Tonight?
“Yes!” I said in absolute confusion.
Easton placed his hand over mine as I held onto my door and leaned down nearly two inches from my face. My stomach dropped as he closed his eyes and puckered his lips. My eyes grew wide with alarm. What was he doing!?
My mom lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt the pressure of her watching us and him waiting on me, and the seconds ticking by in slow motion. How long was he going to wait like a fool? I instantaneously decided to put him out of his misery. I rose up on my toes to close the inches between us and our lips met. I closed my eyes briefly before pulling away—as my stomach did somersaults.
Upon opening my eyes, Easton’s smirk said it all. He got me. He got me good. Mom clapped. I was several shades of mortified.
The two of them turned to walk away. “I told you, you’re her first boyfriend ever! So, she might come across a little timid . . .” Her voice faded into the distance.
I stood at my truck with my jaw dropped as I put the pieces together. “How wonderful to see you again.” I assumed again was the first time they met, but clearly, it was not. I immediately regretted promising Easton a friendship built on trust. He had already known I was lying. He made me pay for my sins with a kiss. I brought my fingertips to my lips. I guess it could have been worse.
My mom walked into the diner, and Easton started his engine. I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew that he definitely wasn’t living rough. He pulled up next to me in his silver BMW and rolled down the tinted window.
“Hunters. 6:00 PM. Tonight,” he said, pulling away before I could protest. My face contorted as I struggled to make out my emotions. I was irritated, deceived, angry . . . impressed, captivated, and excited.
Chapter 7
Red lace was too sexy. It wasn’t a real date. Easton knew enough to know it was all for show. The dinner was more of a business transaction than anything else. What would I have to pay for a fake boyfriend? What did non-homeless Easton Green want?
My attention snapped back to the red lace. No. I’ll never wear that again. I grabbed a sheer button-down blouse instead. The black top would have looked killer with my leopard heels. I bit my lip, thinking about the chewed-up shoes I never had the chance to wear. Alternatively, I slipped black boots over my jeans. They were weather appropriate at least. I threw on a necklace and grabbed my jacket before heading out the door. I was going to be early, but that’s the way I liked it.
“Hello, I’m meeting somebody here at six,” I informed the hostess. She checked her clipboard. I don’t know how she could read it in this lighting. The ambiance was dark and romantic. Much too dark to read handwriting.
“You must be Everly?” the hostess said. I guess that her eyes had adjusted.
I smiled and nodded.
“Right this way.” She turned and walked away.
I followed her through the small and intimate steakhouse. It was the only one in Clover. Every date happened here, and everyone knew who was seeing who. I spotted my dentist and his wife in the corner and pretended I didn’t see them. My stomach dropped when we rounded the corner, and Easton came into my view. I don’t know why I felt nervous. It was stupid, really.
Easton stood when I approached the table. He cleaned up nice. He was wearing a black-collared shirt and a smile. His hair styled with gel.
I received the menu from the hostess and took my seat. I thought about our kiss in the parking lot, and butterflies stirred in my stomach. I wouldn’t say I liked Easton, but maybe I liked the way I felt around him.
“You look nice,” I said before hiding behind my menu. The dim, romantic lighting was forgiving in the way he could no longer see my blushing cheeks and flushed chest.
“As do you,” Easton said.
I glanced over the menu without reading. I had my order memorized since I was a kid. I never got anything but the chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and veggies. Mostly I filled up on the hot squaw bread and butter that came out as an appetizer. I slowly lowered my menu to take a peek at the boy across from me. I needed to get a read on the situation. His hair, slowly . . . his forehead . . . dammit! He was staring right at me! His hands folded on top of his menu. Confidence would be an understatement.
“OK, look! I told my family I had a boyfriend . . . it was my mom who told everyone else it was the ‘cute boy from the coffee shop’” I curled my fingers into air quotes.
Easton’s eyebrows lifted. “Cute boy?” he asked, clinging to the adjective.
Dear God! I’m either lying through my teeth or shooting myself in the foot. I stared at Easton blankly. I couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t my type! That his lack of abs left me with little to fantasize about! That would be . . . evil. I swallowed hard, and he just smirked back at me. Maybe I would go to hell.
“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea!” I said, starting to fidget for my purse.
“No! Don’t go!” Easton pleaded, and my body stilled. “We don’t have to be anything you don’t want. I’m happy being your friend if that’s what you need.” He reached his hand out and placed it on mine.
I looked down at his hand. Warm on top of mine. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what I wanted. I only knew that my pathetic life was better with him in it. I nodded and set my purse down. When Easton pulled his hand back, I wished that he hadn’t.
“And I’m sorry I kissed you. I know I put you on the spot. It was only a joke,” Easton said. I knew it was to get back at me, but calling it a joke hurt a little. I felt the ebb and flow between us, like an invisible string attaching us together. He pulls back, and I lean in.
“No, I know. That’s OK. I know you were just getting back at me. I’m sorry I hid the fake relationship thing from you. I . . . never thought you would find out,” I confessed. The honesty, as blunt as it was, felt good.
Easton laughed. “So, you’re only sorry because you got caught?” he asked.
Now it was my turn to laugh. I thought about it. He was right as usual. “Yes!” I laughed again. It felt nice to laugh. Refreshing.
“My name is Kyle, and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I get you started with a drink?” The waiter asked with his hands tucked behind his back.
“I’ll have the red blend, please,” I said.
“Make that two.”
Now was my chance. I was going to make someone’s day the way Easton had. I scanned the waiter for something to compliment him on. He looked . . . entirely average! Just pick anything . . .
“I like your shirt!” I blurted out.
The waiter frowned briefly before running his hand over a missing button. He faked a smile before dashing away.
“Oh, no!” My mouth gaped as I stared at Easton in disbelief. “I was just trying to say something nice, and he thinks I was sarcastic!” My eyes bulged with worry. I lowered my head to my palm.
“Oh, that’s what you were doing?” Easton looked behind him, checking for the waiter. “Nooo, I don’t think he was offended.” It was his turn to fib.
“You’re lying to me! We can’t be friends unless we’re honest with each other! You made a deal!” I accused him, finger-pointing and all.
“I made a deal that you couldn’t lie!” Easton corrected me.
Was that how it went? I struggled to remember anything but the kiss.
“OK, from now on, nobody lies. Ever!” I said, and I meant it. I thrust my hand across the table for another handshake deal.
Easton hesitated. He swallowed and stared at my hand without making an advance. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he said in an unconvincing tone before shaking my hand. It didn’t go without notice that his once firm handshake had wilted. No longer the firm and confident dealmaker from the diner. I scowled. He’s hiding something already. But I wasn’t angry with him. I knew what it was like to have secrets. To be buried in shame and embarrassment.
Kyle placed two red wine blends down on o
ur table, and I couldn’t help but look at the missing button from his shirt. He took our order while nervously pulling at his clothes. There was a special place in hell for me.
Easton raised his glass. “To a friendship built on your honesty,” he said.
I laughed. “Wait, you didn’t think that would actually work, did you?” I asked through my amusement.
“To a friendship built on honesty,” Easton corrected himself.
We tapped our glasses together and took a sip of wine. It was good—the perfect blend of sweet and cherry tart. I placed my glass down on the table with a sense of renewed life. I no longer felt alone. I effortlessly connected with Easton as long as I took off my armor of lies. I could do it for him . . . for me. Whatever it was, I liked it.
“How are you doing? Where’s your mind at?” Easton asked.
“My mind?” It was pretty good until he asked. “Um, I’m . . . well, this helps.” I gestured to him across the table. “You’re a decent distraction. When I’m with you, I find myself forgetting that my life’s imploding.” I sucked in a shaky breath. It was unlike me to be so honest about my feelings. But I was trying.
“I can help distract you,” Easton agreed.
My eyebrows furrowed. It’s what I wanted to hear, so why was I upset? I played with my wine glass.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, not wanting to know the truth.
Easton appeared to be caught off guard. He nodded, taking in my frustration along with a leisurely sip of wine. My irritation grew.
“Don’t get caught up in your self-pity. You’re going to get that from everyone else in your life, but you won’t get it from me.” He looked around the restaurant before leaning in. He spoke low and rushed. “I’m not your friend because you’re dying. I’m your friend because I happen to like you. You're different. You’re in an odd situation. And I enjoy being around you and your thoughts, emotions, and actions. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just as selfish as anyone else out there, but I’m not doing this for a good conscience. I’m doing it out of my own damn self-interest. Don’t you forget it!” Easton leaned back in his seat as Kyle brought us our food.
The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 5