Page 118 of Into Pitch

“You ever gonna let me buy you a drink?”

I snort. “I work here.”

“After then,” he amends. “When you’re done pretending you don’t notice me.”

I open my mouth to deflect and maybe make a joke, but then something in me—something tired and deeply fed up— just gives.

“Sure. Why not?” I hear myself say.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, but only one drink.” I repeat.

The word ‘one’ feels important.

We end up sitting at the end of the bar after closing, the place half-dark and echoing now that the crowd’s gone. Evan talks about work and about nothing much at all. He’s polite and attentive, and he doesn’t push.

And all the while I watch him, I feel nothing.

No pull that I can’t find a way out of and the heat isn’t there either.

Just this bone deep absence that I need to go away.

When he walks me to my bus, he hesitates at the step, hands awkwardly shoved down into his pockets.

“Want company?” He asks, bravely.

I should definitely say no to that.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Inside the bus, everything isn’t right with him here. My paintings line the walls, silent witnesses to things I haven’t processed. Evan looks around, seemingly impressed. I’m not real sure because I don’t know him well enough to read into him.

“Did you do this?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s intense,” he murmurs, like he doesn’t know whether to compliment it or not.

I shrug and grab two beers from the fridge, needing alcohol for whatever the fuck comes next. So we sit and talk more, laugh a little. He even reaches for my hand and the contact is gentle and warm.

But it’s fucking wrong.

My body reacts anyway, muscle memory kicking in as nerves fire out of habit rather than want. He leans closer, searching my face, giving me every opportunity to pull away.

Like the selfish bitch I am, I don’t. I let him kiss me and tell myself it is fine.

There’s no jolt or thrill. No sense of being seen as his mouth is careful and polite against my own. Nothing like the way Alex kisses me.

I stiffen and Evan notices immediately, pulling back. “Hey. We don’t have to—”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I just—give me a second.”

He nods, giving me my space, and my brain betrays me. I think of the cabin and of the voice that never asked for permission but always waited for truth. Of hands that knew exactly where to touch because they paid attention.

I think of love.

Panic bursts to the surface fast and hot.