Page 57 of A Little Jaded
RAINE
The drive home is relatively quiet other than the music playing through the speakers. It’s awkward and forced and I keep waiting for Everett to bite my head off for his run-in with my dad, but he hasn’t said a word since we left Etch ‘N’ Ink.
I don’t know what to say, though. I don’t know how to fix this or how to apologize. I glance at Everett again, but his expression is locked tight. I can’t get a read on it. Can’t get a read on him.
If I was in the car with Drake, he would’ve already bitten my head off. And if not, I would’ve at least known what to anticipate from his silence. It was always so heavy. Tense. Charged. Like it was meant to make me uncomfortable. With Everett? I’m not sure what it means, and the unknown is…triggering.
What are you thinking, Everett Taylor?
When we pull up to the cabin, he enters the garage and turns off the car but doesn’t reach for the door handle, so I don’t either. A not-so-small part of me wants to escape to the safety of my room, where I can drown in my own silencewithout second-guessing its meaning or waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead I only…sit here. I wish I could read his mind. I wish I knew what he’s thinking or feeling or wanting from me.
“Thanks, uh, thanks again for the ride,” I offer.
His nod is mechanical at best.
I pick at my nails, unsure what to say or do. Why hasn’t he exploded yet?
Peeking over at him again, I realize I don’t know the outcome of tonight’s game. And, if I was still dating Drake, well, that would be a really, really big problem.
My stomach swells with unease, but I force my vocal cords to do their freaking job and ask, “So…how was the game?”
“We lost.” Everett shrugs. “It sucked.”
“Oh.” I nod. Desperate to fill the silence, I add, “Do you want me to cook dinner or anything? Or…leave you alone for the rest of the night? Or…I don’t know? Anything?”
He continues staring in front of him. “I’m good.”
His hand still rests on the steering wheel. I wait for him to open the door and climb out of the car or to pull it into a fist or…I don’t even know. “Okay, then?” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton balls. “I mean…I guess I just…don’t really know what you want me to do right now.”
His brows crease, and for the first time since we left Etch ‘N’ Ink, he looks at me. “What?”
“I mean, if you were Drake after a hard game, you’d be pissed, and you’re acting…kind of pissed?” I hesitate and tilt my head, as if the new angle will give me a better assessment of the man behind the steering wheel. “But you said you’re not hungry, so I can’t exactly cook you dinner. And I can’t give you a blow job. I mean, I can give you a blow job, but I’m not going to because we both agreed this is…purely platonic, but?—”
He shoots me a look. “Do you always ramble when you’re nervous?”
“Ramble or keep my mouth shut,” I offer. “There is no in-between.”
His nod is slow, but I swear I see his mouth twitch. Or maybe I imagine it because he still hasn’t reached for the door handle, and his lack of…I don't even know what…is starting to make me feel like I’m a crazy person.
“Not mad we lost the game, Raine,” he finally reveals.
“But youaremad,” I assume.
He scrubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know what I am, honestly.”
My attention moves from his chiseled profile and I look down at my hands instead. “Oh.”
“Confused, I guess,” he admits.
Confused? What does he have to be confused about? After the weird conversation I walked in on between Everett and my dad, and now this awkward silence while we’re parked in the garage, I’m pretty sure if anyone’s allowed to feel confused, it’s me.
As if he can hear my spiraling thoughts, he announces, “Your dad threatened to kill me for hurting you.”
I pull back, surprised. Not by my dad’s threat or that Everett’s sour mood has something to do with their interaction, but because of the second part. Thehurting mepart.
“Hurting me?” I ask.
“He isn’t stupid.” Everett drags his calloused fingertips against the black stitching along the steering wheel. Slowly. Methodically. “I know you want to hope he is so you can get away with all the lying, but it’s only gonna bite you in the ass.”