She pulls away from me slightly, enough to put an inch between us. She’s on her tiptoes, her hands on my shoulders as she lifts herself up.
And then she does the most demonic thing ever. She puts her lips against my ear and whispers, “You’re going to wish you would have just kissed me.”
I want to grab her. To be consumed by her fire.
But she doesn’t let me.
She quickly steps back, closing her door between us.
Chapter 35
Evan
Idon’tknowwhenthis stuff started to seem boring to me.
The lines. The notoriety. The cardboard cutouts. The fact that my name is on books. Even the Netflix series that is currently buried in legalities and lawyers to ensure everyone gets what they want whenMurder After Darkis made into more than words on paper.
This is the dream, and it didn’t come easily even if the book deal came easy. It wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter. Trust fund money didn’t buy my name. No, I suffered for this in my own way.
And after spending time with Rachel, I’m starting to remember things that I’ve tried so hard to forget.
Like Ethel.
Or learning how to cook my little sister something other than toast and eggs.
Or feeling so proud when I was able to buy Lily a new pair of shoes, so she wasn’t made fun of in school.
Like my dad hitting me repeatedly as I put myself between him and my mom.
And then, taking care of my mom when he left. Throwing away the empty vodka bottles. Holding her hair while she puked the emptiness out of her.
Then, the day I came home from school and discovered our mom had left, too. That it was just Lily and me, and I was determined to give us both a better life than my parents ever wanted to.
When you start remembering, the bad comes along with the good.
“Evan Michaels!” someone shrieks, making me look up at a very voluptuous blonde-haired woman, who is jumping up and down. “Can you sign my chest?!”
I look for Melanie, discovering that she is hurrying over to me. Occasionally, I have fans like this. Fans that act like I’m more of a rock star than a writer. I’m not. Quite honestly, it makes me uncomfortable as other fans standing in line gape and whisper.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but this isn’t that kind of book signing,” Melanie apologizes. “Evan would be more than happy to sign a book for you.”
“I don’t want a book!” she whines. “I want his ink on my body!”
“I believe that’s called a tattoo,” I remark.
“But it’s not ink from your hand,” she continues to whine. “My name is Amanda, like the Amanda fromBarrett After Dark.We’re destined for each other, Evan. I’m meant to be yours.”
“Security is coming,” Melanie whispers to me. “Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving until Evan writes his name on my skin!” she screams. “Evan, you don’t know it yet, but I can give you what you’ve been looking for.”
And I don’t know what this woman thinks I’m looking for, but I can guarantee that she can’t give it to me.
“Amanda, is it?” I ask.
“I love my name in your mouth,” she says. “Say it again!”
Well, now I won’t say it again.
