However, I do regret not being able to keep him.
Leaving him there was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, and considering all I lost, that is saying a lot.
I can’t believe he waited for me all that time, knowing I would probably not return. I stared at him, holding myself back from returning, but I knew it would be a mistake, so I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and numb myself to the repressed emotions that threatened to resurface after spending only one evening together.
I’ve never had that kind of connection to anyone before. Following Jameson to work, and then to the bar afterward, was wrong, but no one said I was normal. I’ve accepted that I wasn’tan ordinary girl long ago. I was made this way out of deception, lies, and abuse. I was forced to develop my own form of coping skills.
So here I am, at the bar Emma frequents, watching Jameson meet his friends sitting at a high-top with him in my line of vision.
Emma left as we arrived, sitting with her usual coworkers, but he didn’t notice. I took a seat, sipping my seltzer water and watching from my spot in the corner with a view of the whole bar. Mateo was put off by my new obsession, but for someone who looks out for the same things I do, he’s one to talk.
As fucked-up as I am, I didn’t feel that way last night with Jameson. I felt seen. After hiding and pretending I was dead along with my parents in that fire, I must remain invisible to everyone. I rarely talk to anyone besides Mateo, and have never had a relationship.
After Mateo saved me from being attacked long ago in that alley, I was traumatized, but with the help of a therapist, I was able to pull myself from drowning in flashbacks of that night. Even though I was just bruised, my injuries were invisible—and my spirit was broken. I had to learn how to take back the control that was taken from me that night. I did that by speaking about my anxiety, and self-defense classes to combat my fears. I swore I would never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I will be the only one in control of every aspect of my life.
I have held true to that, even when it comes to being intimate with someone.
Let’s be honest. There is no intimacy with the one-night stands that I have. Sex for me is an act used to release tension that has built up to the point of rage. I have had sex with men in the past, but never anything more than that—except for last night. I felt seen and treasured when he looked into my eyes likeI was someone who mattered to him. I wasn’t just Evie, the sister who died and stayed unseen to protect Emma.
I was an actual person who sought the things all women want. I want to be the center of someone’s world. I want to be held and cherished as if I am the most essential thing to their existence. I felt that possibility for a small amount of time, and even if I never have that again and all our plans go to shit, I can say that without a doubt, for that moment, I mattered to someone. I felt cared for and treasured, which is absolutely absurd, since we were both at a sex club. I’m sure we won’t be telling this story to any grandkids.
Finding him on that app was pure luck, but once I saw his profile, I knew that I had to reconnect with him again. Maybe just one more time to indulge myself in something I can’t have. So I threw caution to the wind and decided to send him a private message.
I want to explain to him that I didn’t want to leave but that it was for the best. It’s a mistake to talk to him and get him involved any further than he already is, but I can’t stop wanting him. He’s like a drug, and I need my fix. I pick up my phone and hit send.
Eve
I want to see you again
One small phrase that should get my point across.
I’ve never been a jealous type, but when I saw that girl push up against him at the bar, I wanted to scream in her face that he is mine and rip her hands off him. They had a familiarity of having been intimate. I’ve never felt so many emotions at once: anger for touching what’s mine, jealousy that someone else knew him in a similar way I had, and a longing that makes me want to be held the way I imagined he would have night—the nightwhen I walked away from the one thing I wanted to be selfish with.I drive home where I reside with my brother Mateo. The traffic here is insane, and I wish for a simpler life. I’d like to pick a place I want to live versus someone dictating where I have to live. Living in Houston isn’t the best, and I loved the simplicity of living on Padre Island, but Julian found Emma, and Adrian convinced her to move here with Liv, so here we are.The timing was perfect, and the reason held true—to be a friend to Liv and help her with her transition to a new city after the accident at the beach. I can still hear the screaming.
I remember that day and the first time I saw Jameson at the beach.
I blended in with the crowded beach area, pretending to be any girl indulging in the moment. I hid behind my sunglasses and hat while Mateo hung out with girls wrapped around him. He said it helped provide cover, but it sure looked like something else from where I sat.
I watched my sister with her friends and felt a twinge of sadness that I couldn’t tell her that I was there. Instead, I watched from afar and bided my time—all to keep her safe.
Day turned into night, and the party continued. The crowds had lessened, and Mateo and I were farther away from where we originally sat, closer to the shore. We had the van parked farther back now as the tide came in, but we were still close enough that I could keep an eye on Emma.
A thump startled me from my thoughts, followed by a high-pitched wail, and finally muffled sounds all coming from the van. Thank God he shoved his hand over that bitch’s mouth.
Just when I thought I could get a moment of reprieve, it started rocking, and I snorted, “Fuck this.” I put on my Van sneakers and walked in the shadows when someone called out my sister’s name.
“Emma?” I heard a voice call out. She looked zoned out until she realized someone was calling her. “Do you have to pee or something? You can’t keep still?”
I looked to see where she was and turned to talk to a guy with brownish-colored hair, average height, and a toned body.
Her laugh carried on the humid coastal breeze. “What gave it away?” she asked playfully, and my lips turned up in a smile.
“Oh, I don’t know. It looked like you had ants in your pants,” he retorted, displaying a beautiful smile across his chiseled jaw. He was handsome and anything but average in my eyes.
Emma threw her hand around. “Ha! I hope not. What do you think about escorting me to the bathrooms? I need to pee, but I don’t like that it’s so secluded over there and...” I saw her throat bob as she formulated her following words. “Dark.”
My heart broke hearing that she was still acutely aware of the dangers that lurk in the dark. I wanted to go to her. To shout, ‘I’m here, Emma.’ Instead, I stood silent and continued to watch over her.
He smiled at her and reached for her hand. “I’d be happy to escort you.” He swung her arm back and forth playfully. “Come on. Let’s go.” They walked hand-in-hand, like school-aged children, to the portable bathroom stall closer to the sand dunes.
