Page 85 of Someone Like Me
But her eyes flash with ire. “You give me these mixed signals, and—” She stops. Blinks. Tilts her head to the right. “Wait. Did you just say I could stay?”
I grab her hand and tug her off the hood of the Supra. Dragging her with me, I yank down the garage door, turn off the lights, and lead her upstairs.
I flip on the overhead in my apartment, and my eyes fall to the futon. She’ll be sleeping there with me in short order. I tear my gaze away. I can’t handle that just yet. I still haven’t recovered from what just happened downstairs.
She’s said nothing the whole way up, so maybe she hasn’t quite recovered either. The thought warms my chest, and I have to push that aside too.
I release her hand and turn toward the fridge. “Want something to drink? Water? Grape Kool-Aid?”
Evie’s watchful expression collapses with a startled laugh. Our eyes meet, and I know we’re both thinking of our picnic a couple of weeks ago.
“I could use some water.”
I take two glasses from the draining board and fill them. I feel Evie’s eyes on me, and when I face her, she’s wearing an intrigued frown.
“What?”
She lifts her chin in my direction. “You have two glasses. Last time, you only had one.”
My face heats without warning. I added the second glass the day after her visit. Before my run-in with her sister, I had pictured her coming back here so we could talk more. As friends.
Yeah, denial is a poor man’s opiate.
I shrug, blushing fully now. “It might have occurred to me that I needed to expand my glassware collection,” I mumble.
Evie grips my arm, tilts back her head, laughing at the ceiling. Her curls cascade over her bare shoulders and down her back. I forget to breathe.
“By one hundred percent,” she says, beaming. “Does that mean I inspired a one hundred percent change in your opinions on glassware needs?
A gruff chuckle rattles from me. “Maybe.”
She shakes her head, her perfect, white teeth glinting with her amusement. “Such a Taurus,” she mutters. “But still, I’m obviously making an impression.”
She’s making an impression alright.
I take a sip of water, hoping it will clear my head. Cool my blood. Maybe if we talk for a while, I’ll be able to go to bed exhausted instead of on the verge of self-injury.
I pull out one of the kitchen chairs and gesture for her to sit. She does, eyeing me with open curiosity. I move to the chair opposite her and decide at the last moment to drag it around so I sit beside her instead of across as I did the night we ate French cheese and marmalade.
“You aren’t my backyard neighbor anymore,” I say, needing to talk about anything at all.
Evie smiles, but it’s not a real Evie smile. I know because I’ve only seen smiles that touch her eyes. This one’s not even close.
“Yeah, that,” she mumbles. She hides behind her lashes as she looks down at her glass. “It was time to move out.” She takes a sip of water and says nothing else.
In the weeks I’ve known Evie, she’s been anything but tight-lipped, so I get this is serious. The memory of my one encounter with her sister resurfaces, and I wonder if Evie left because Tori kept getting in her face. The way she got in mine.
I frown in concern. “Was it your sister?” I ask, gentling my voice. The thought of someone hurting her — even being hard on her — has my fists clenching.
Evie raises her eyes to mine, and though she’s still wearing that paper smile, I see sadness.
“No.” She shakes her head. “It was me.”
I frown harder. This I can’t believe. But I don’t press. If she can’t feel at home in her own house, I want her to feel at home here. And I want it with a sense of urgency. We don’t have to talk about anything she doesn’t want to talk about.
But she surprises me a moment later. “I’m the one nobody trusts, apparently.”
“What?” I think a sucker punch would have stunned me less. I don’t exactly have a social network, so this may not be saying much, but out of all the people in my life — my life now on the outside — Evie’s probably the one I trust the most.
