Page 12 of Every November

Tomorrow, I’ll drive back to Chicago to my overpriced one-bedroom apartment and the job I hate, but at least I’ll have the memories of Evan to keep me company.

That’s better than being trapped in a house with a porch swing that says “Grateful” and an apron that says “Blessed,” surrounded by people who’ve never once meant either word when they said them out loud.

CHAPTER 6

Evan

ONE YEAR LATER

“Whose house are we going to again?” I ask Derek as we park outside of a small two-story house.

This year, I couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving my family the second I landed because of how much I missed them, so I skipped the bar on Wednesday. But after two full days of family time, I figured it’d be good to see some of my friends, so I tagged along to spend Friday night at Derek’s new friends’ place for a Friendsgiving.

“Josh,” he says as we get out of the car. “Katy and Randy will be here too, and I’m sure you’ll know a few other people. But you being gone has forced me to expand my friendship circle.” He laughs.

“I think you’re doing just fine here,” I tease.

“You’re right, I can’t believe it’s been another whole year. It’s crazy.”

“You’re telling me. I’m glad things are going well for you with the job though.”

“Me too. You’ve got no idea.” Derek chuckles as he knocks on the green door with the hand that isn’t holding a pie then walks inside without waiting for anyone to open it.

Josh’s house is loud with conversation. There’s a staircase directly in front of me, and it looks like the living room is to the left and the dining room to the right. Derek leaves his boots on, so I do the same with my sneakers and follow him into the dining room and kitchen area.

“Derek, hey, man!” someone I don’t recognize shouts. I’ve been to enough get-togethers in Seattle that I’m very familiar with being in groups of people where I don’t know everyone.

“Sup, Josh? This is Evan.”

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” I stick out my hand to shake his. Now that he’s looking at me, the guy does look vaguely familiar, but I can’t place how I know him or if I do. Maybe Derek posted a photo with him or something.

“The more the merrier, man.” Josh grips my palm and nods around. “Make yourself at home. Some people are watching the game in the living room if that’s your thing.”

Before I can answer, I see Katy approaching. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Good to see you,” I greet.

“Oh my god, you have a mustache now!” she squeals, and I laugh.

“Sure do.” I twist the end jokingly. I decided to lean into trying something different and it turns out I love the stache.

“Very West Coast of you,” she teases. “Come on, let’s watch the game and catch up. Randy’s in there.”

I nod and follow her down the short hallway into a large living room with a large sectional and an additional couch. My eyes wander around the room as I sit down next to her, and my heart stops because holy shit… the guy from last Thanksgiving is here. In this house. Josh’s house, and that’s when the memory hits me. Josh was the guy at the bar last year with Marcus.

What are the chances Derek makes a new friend and leads me right back to the same person I hooked up with last Thanksgiving?

My heart is hammering in my chest as my mind races with questions. Is he here alone? How does he manage to look even hotter this year? Would he want a repeat of last year?

As if he can feel my gaze on him, our eyes connect across the room, just like at the bar. His widen just a smidge before I feel my own doing the same at being caught. But there’s no point in being coy now, so I let my gaze drag over him. His wavy blond hair is a little longer than I remember. His mouth has the same unamused set, like he’s bored of being here. He’s wearing black jeans and a gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, and he’s dark and broody in exactly the way that drew me to forget my own name in a bar parking lot last November. His jaw is clean-shaven this year—no stubble to possibly leave a mark, which feels almost like a joke considering what he left on my collarbone the last time I saw him. His eyes are doing their own slow crawl over me, too.

When we finally land on each other’s faces again, he gives me a small, barely there nod, and the corner of his mouth curves up in a way that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t nothing either.

I’ve spent a decent chunk of the last year telling myself I was exaggerating in my memory—that no one-night stand is actually as hot as I built it up to be after the fact. But watching that smirk play at his mouth, I realize I wasn’t exaggerating at all. If anything, my memory didn’t do him justice, because right now, all I want is for him to close the distance, push me up against the nearest wall, and pick up right where we left off.

Katy touches my arm, and I turn to face her, but my entire body is hyperaware of where Marcus is sitting across the room. I can feel him like gravity—this pull I can’t explain and don’t want to fight, the same one that had me giving up all control to a total stranger in the back of a car twelve months ago, loving every second of it.

“Hey, man, good to see you,” Randy says, holding his fist out for me to bump, and I do before saying hello.