Page 59 of A Little Jaded
“Yeah,honestly,” he repeats, throwing my own word back at me. “I think I’m over the lies for today. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice is hushed as I try to combat the swell of butterflies in my stomach. I always knew Everett was attractive, but when he looks like this? All stubborn and direct and prickly, it kind of makes me want to push him more. The realization is startling and only confirms my slip of the tongue from thirty seconds ago. My chin lifts an inch higher, and I whisper, “I know you would never hit me.”
A long pause follows. His eyes bounce around my face as if he’s a genuine lie detector or something. And even though it makes me want to run in the opposite direction, I keep my feet planted where they are and look up at him. Noting how his eyes are more navy around the outside of his iris and melt into a lighter, sky blue near his pupil. The way his lips are full and soft. My fingers itch to reach up and touch his scruff to see if it’s as prickly as it looks. If his jaw is as hard asit appears. I don’t know how he does it. How he can seem so genuine yet guarded at the same time. It’s confusing, and so is my body’s response. But fear? Fear is the last thing I feel. It’s so nonexistent I should seriously second-guess my sanity at this point, especially if he keeps looking at me like this. Like he might?—
“Then it’s enough.” His gaze falls to my mouth for the briefest of seconds before he drops his hand from my chin but doesn’t pull away. “You don’t need to make your life messier by defending me. We’re good.”
When his minty breath hits my cheeks, I realize how close we’re standing. And even without his shoes on and mine firmly on my feet, he still towers over me. It’s a reminder of how little power I actually have at this moment. The old me would’ve been afraid. I embarrassed him. Painted him in a bad light. He has every right to be frustrated with me, and if he was Drake, I’d be terrified of standing in front of him. Admitting my mistake. Yet here he is, calling me out for my shit without yelling or throwing things. Without making me want to run and hide and tuck my tail between my legs. The contrast with Drake is staggering. Even when Drake wasn’t physical, he always knew how to throw a verbal punch. Sometimes, those were even worse.
But Everett? Everett makes me feel…safe. And I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever be able to feel this way again. But what’s even crazier is how he doesn’t need my dad’s approval. Everett only needed me to confirmIknow him better than to put him in the same category as Drake.
He has no idea.
I slowly step back, convinced that maybe if I have enough breathing room, my lungs will finally start working, and I won’t feel so lightheaded. “You’re a good guy, Ev,” I confide. “I guess I assumed you must be so used to hearing it you wouldn’t need any validation from me or my dad. Even ifthis is fake,” I clarify, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m trying to remind. “But just so we’re clear, you are. You’re a good guy. I mean it.”
It’s still dark inside. Nothing but the moon shining through the windows. I wish the lights were on now, though. Wish they could shine a light on how stupid it is for me to say something like this. Everything I've said is the truth, but we have our rules in place to keep any of this from becoming too real. And I’m afraid my little…rambling session hits too close to home. The last thing he needs is for his project—aka me—to catch feelings.
“Can you…get the lights?” I breathe out.
He nods slowly and leaves me near the door next to the garage to flick the kitchen light on. I slip my sneakers off, unsure where to go from here after I kind of, sort of peeled away some of the protective barriers I had in place until now. Until I stupidly started to wonder what it would be like to kiss Everett Taylor. To let him kiss me.
“Anything from Drake?” Everett asks as he tosses his keys onto the corner of the kitchen counter.
It’s the same question he’s asked at least twice a day since we moved in together. Since the first night we made lasagna, my answer has always been the same.
With a slow shake of my head, I reply, “Not a peep.”
He nods and opens the fridge, searching for a late-night dinner, but his absent gaze makes me feel like he’s somewhere else. It’s strange. How easily he can control his emotions. Locking each and every one of them into a small little container deep inside of him until only a stranger stands in front of me. As if he can feel my assessment, he clears his throat and turns to me. “I forgot to tell you I talked with Reeves the other day.”
Reeves. Right.
“Oh?” I offer weakly.
“Yeah. He asked if we want to keep laying low like we have been or if we want to lure Drake out.”
The name alone causes a ripple of wariness to crawl down my spine. Locking up my own freak-out over his name, I pull one of the leather barstools at the kitchen island out and sit down across from Everett. “And how would we do that?”
“Throw another party. See if Drake comes.”
“And if he does?” I ask. “What then?”
“Then we get the ball rolling and push him off a cliff.”
I snort. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
“Thought you’d like it.” A smile toys at the edge of his full lips before he sobers slightly. “What do you say? Keep laying low or throw a party?”
I play out all the potential outcomes as well as the consequences of either option. Not going to lie. It's been nice. Really nice. Lying low and pretending like my past with Drake is where it should be…in the past. I haven’t been lying when I told Everett Drake hasn’t called since his conversation with Everett the first night. While it should make me feel better, it’s only left me with more anxiety. I feel like I could walk into a trap any moment, and I’d never see it coming. I doubt it’s been easy for Everett, either. Being my chauffeur. My chef. My freaking butler half the time. And it’s all because he made his friend a promise. To protect someone in need. Someone like me.
With a deep breath, I decide, “Let’s lure the bastard out.”
“All right,” he answers. “I’ll get the ball rolling.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
EVERETT
Me: