“Yeah, it was just a long day and she wanted to get some rest. But in my professional opinion, she might want to see you.”
“There is no reason I should trust you.” If anyone else were to say I should go, I would. But knowing Evelyn she’s trying to throw me into a trap.
“I’m trying to play nice here.” Her voice softens, remaining just loud enough to hear over the clamor. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s good. But be careful with her, okay?”
“Does it physically pain you to be nice to me?” I ask, but don’t take Evelyn’s words lightly, she wouldn’t speak this way if she didn’t mean it.
“You’re important to two of the most important people in my life, so I’ll play nice. But know if you hurt any of them, I’ll make your life hell.”
She taps Garrett’s thigh as she gets off him then proceeds to scoot out of the booth. “Now, get up. He needs to go get the girl.”
The lights are on in her house when I arrive. A good sign, I think.
I get to her porch and knock, rocking back and forth as I wait. Maybe I’m reading into this and she really is just tired and wants to rest. Tonight’s the start of what’s about to be months of non-stop physically and mentally taxing work. And we aren’t nearly as young as we used to be. I already feel the tell-tale aches that indicate I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow.
Relief washes over me as the lock clicks, and the door opens. She’s changed into a baggy shirt over shorts and washed her face, hair tied up.
“I wanted to see if everything was okay,” I rush to explain.
Her eyes dip to the floor and her voice is flat, devoid of any readable emotion. “Go back and celebrate with everyone, Wes. You don’t need to be here.”
“But I want to celebrate withyou. I’ll go back if you come with me. We can dance. It could be fun. We’ve earned this.” Not just because of the performance, but everything else we’ve gone through to get here. We fought hard for this moment.
“I can’t.”
“If it’s about my mom—”
“It’s not George. She came and talked to me before the show. Everything is good. It was just a bad idea for me to go out with you tonight.” Her knuckles whiten as she tightens her grip on the door.
“Then why?” I plead.
“I almost went but then I thought about another girl even looking at you, and I knew if that happened, I would tear you away and let her know you were mine. It was either that or come home.” It’s probably the last thing I expected her to say.
“Well, I really like that option so I’m a bit disappointed that we’re not doing that.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. If you want to be with me, why aren’t you?”
A light flicks on next door and she falls silent, noting that we might be overheard. Her focus drifts inside and she hesitates, as if inviting me in seals our fate and we’ll end up on her couch again. I’m a fan of that option as well, but I can tell she’s working through something. “Just get in here so we can talk.”
We only step in far enough for her to close the door. In the narrow space of the entryway, I can see now that even though she’s taken off her makeup, there’s still glitter clinging to her skin, shimmering each time she sways uneasily.
“Let’s not complicate things. We have a good thing going. We’re friends and it works.”
“If I knew how to be just your friend, I would.” I take a step closer, and she backs away bumping against the wall, causing the frames to clatter. I don’t press further, respecting her need for space even as it kills me to know she wants it. “But we both know that’s not possible. It hasn’t been possible for a long time, and after last night there’s no way we can keep pretending.”
“I can’t be more. I can’t promise you I’m ready for that. It’s only been a few months, Wes. I don’t want to walk out of a restaurant together to turn around and see our entire relationship being picked apart in some fucking magazine being sold on the street corner. And I hate it because I’ve felt so fucking lonely these last few years. And honestly, I didn’t know I felt that way until I started spending time with you. I just thought how I felt was normal. And now, whenever you’re in a room with me, it’s impossible to feel lonely. I’m terrified I’ll get used to having you around again only to lose you.” Her chest heaves and her voice has risen to a yell.
I don’t know who she’s angry with. Me. Herself. The world that has stolen away the privacy she craves.
“Then let me keep helping you feel less lonely. Let us have this. Fuck what they say, it doesn’t matter. We’ll know the truth.” And that’s what should matter. The world wouldn’t be in thisrelationship, it’s ours. But even as the thought enters my mind I know it’s wishful thinking.
To be observed is to change. To feel the pressure of expectations against our skin, sinking into our subconscious, even as we swear we don’t care.
“If only it were that simple.”
“Then we keep it a secret. We’re good at keeping those aren’t we?” I’d prefer not to do it this way, to be something kept hidden. But if it makes the difference between having even a scrap of her or not. I’ll do it.
