Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles) (17 page)

Yes, I conceded that tonight was the undoing of Hagen and Sophie. But I didn’t mind all that much, which worried me. Wasn’t it normal to feel a sense of loss or sadness when a three-month-long relationship ended? Yet not even a single tear had sprung from my eyes.

I determined to stay away from guys for a while. Judging from my past at Brightman, it seemed that when I was with a guy, I either pissed him off or made a total fool of myself.

I groaned, submerging everything but my face under hot water. Why didn’t I want to kiss Hagen? Why did I hear voices and black out? What was wrong with me? Why was I such a freak?

I didn’t know what to think of tonight’s events. An incessant overanalyzer, one second I was proud of myself, and the next, mentally pummeling myself. The average guy probably didn’t put nearly this much thought into things. So why did I? I knew the answer. I overanalyzed to protect myself. It came naturally to me. It was instinctive — a built-in defense mechanism. But what sort of defense mechanism was overanalyzing when it drove me crazier than the boy ever had in the first place? I just wanted it to stop.

That’s when I got an idea.

Quickly bathing, I drained my bath water, threw on some pajamas and raced for my dorms adjoining door. I would tell Mia everything. She’d know what to do. Besides, who in their right mind went to bed at six p.m. on a Friday night? I knocked.

“Hey, Mia,” I said as her door swung open.

My mouth opened in shock and my heart fell into my stomach, upsetting the butterflies that had long been dormant there.

It wasn’t Mia. It was Everett.

Chapter 21

Hold It Against Me

“Surprise—” Everett said, not sounding very enthusiastic.

“Hi,” I replied.

Shoot! Am I wearing the pajama bottoms with the hole torn in the rear?
I tried not to look as awkward as I felt in my ratty pajamas with a sopping wet towel piled high on my head.

“Good timing. Mia is cooking tonight. I was about to come over to see if you’d like to join us.”

Sure he was. I couldn’t believe he was talking to me. I hadn’t spoken to him since our tense words in the lunchroom over three months ago. The smell of garlic and onion wafted through the air, and something hissed while it cooked.

“It smells great, but I already ate.” I hoped Everett didn’t think I was making an excuse. I didn’t know if it was my new revelation on Hagen or the fact that Everett looked handsome as ever in a red cashmere sweater and jeans, but here I stood wanting nothing more that to make up with him. “Besides, I think I’m underdressed,” I joked, attempting to break the tension I felt.

“You look perfect as always, Sophie,” Everett replied, not so much as glancing at my mismatched T-shirt and wrinkled pajama pants.

“I’m not sure about that,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm. I couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, had made me blush.

“Sophie’s at the door. She won’t join us because she thinks she’s underdressed,” Everett called over his shoulder towards the kitchen, his eyes never leaving my face.

Mia stuck her head out from the kitchen. She waved a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other. “Excuses, excuses! You look fine. It’s only Everett and me,” she hollered. “Ahhh… the garlic bread is burning!” She threw her hands up, frantically running back into the kitchen.

“Were you planning on having dessert?” I asked Everett.

“No, but if that’s the clincher, I can always whip something up.” His green eyes sparkled.

“Well, since you’re bribing me with sweets.”

“Whatever it takes.” He smiled broadly. Leaning into my dorm, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into Mia’s world. I eyed him warily as he half-dragged me into the kitchen, reminding me of my first night with him in Brightman’s kitchen.

“Well, well! Who knew you could cook?” I asked, joining Mia by the stove.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t think I can,” she laughed.

Her usually sleek hair was a frizzy pile on top of her head, her eye makeup was slightly smudged, and sweat dotted her forehead and upper lip. Completing the frazzled look was an apron decorated with tomato-stained splotches of oranges and reds.

“You’re a mess.”

Catching my gaze, she looked down at her apron, and laughed with me. “Don’t judge. I’ve been homesick so my mom had her chef send me one of our family recipes. Tonight, I’m trying to make it.”

“I’ve already told her the goal is to cook the food, not wear it, but she refuses to let me help,” Everett said, shuffling through the fridge.

“I can do it on my own,” Mia insisted.

“Your loss!” His voice trailed away as he walked into the living room.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine without you,” I hollered after him. I turned back to Mia. “Boys! Always thinking they’re the end all and be all of everything.” I rolled my eyes. My words sounded angrier than I’d meant for them to.

Mia raised a brow. “Boy trouble?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know. I’m a little frustrated with the guys in my life. I don’t know where Everett and I stand, I’m pretty sure my relationship with Hagen is over, and my dad called this week to cancel Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, Sophie! That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, guys kind of suck in my book right now.”

“Well, I don’t know about your dad or Hagen, but I do know about Everett. He really regrets how things went down between you two.”

“Yeah?” I somehow wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Me too. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Just talk to him. Things will naturally fix themselves. Put a little trust in him.”

“Speaking of trust… why aren’t you letting Everett help you? Isn’t he a really good cook?” I asked, turning the tables on her.

“Yes, Everett is quite the chef,” Mia admitted, turning to stir a red sauce bubbling in a pot. “He’s learned from his mom, Maddy, and even a family friend who owns a restaurant, allowing him to cook just about anything. It would be wise of me to take him up on his offer to help, but I’m not going to.”

I rolled my eyes at her and laughed. “You are so stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Your situation is different than mine. You’re craving food, yet you don’t know how to cook and have turned down Everett’s offer to help you make it. You’re probably going to ruin the food and waste all the ingredients. And for what? So you can be prideful and say you did it yourself?”

Mia turned to me. “You’re desperate for relationship and true companionship, yet you rejected a guy who’s been to hell and back. You’re missing out on a relationship with one of the most eligible guys I’ve ever known, and — might I add — someone who genuinely cares about you. And for what? So you can be prideful and say you’re right about something that happened months ago?”

“Ouch,” I mumbled. “Point taken.”

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Mia’s face softened. “That was harsh, but if I had a guy who cared for me like that—” She suddenly looked sad, but recovered just as quickly. “—I’d do anything not to lose him.”

“You’re right. I’ve pretty much blown it.”

“Well, the good news is that you have a second chance.”

“And what about you? Are you going to let Everett help you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would distract him from talking to you,” she said with a mischievous look.

I laughed. “What are you making anyway?” I asked, peering into a pan.

“Chicken Cacciatore,” she said exuberantly in a thick Italian accent. “Or at least trying to.”

“Well, it definitely smells good,” I said, hoping to boost her confidence.

“Thanks. Grab a soda from the fridge and have a seat.” It was a command more than an offer.

She jogged my memory. “Speaking of seat… is there a tear in the seat of my pants?” I turned so Mia could see.

“No. Why?” She laughed.

“No reason. Thanks.”

“Then go. No one is allowed in the kitchen when the chef is working on her masterpiece.” She winked at me. “Sodas are in the fridge.”

I was surprised to find the refrigerator stocked with row upon row of grape sodas — the same ones that Everett so dearly loved. Grabbing one, I made my way into the living room.

“I see your grape soda addiction has rubbed off on Mia,” I said, sitting next to Everett on the couch.

“What can I say? The girl has good taste,” he said, nursing a soda of his own. “I made the mistake of letting her try one and now I think she’s more hooked than I am. Her father’s even looking into buying the winery that makes them.”

“I forgot to tell you! He bought the company last week,” Mia hollered from the kitchen, apparently eavesdropping. “How else do you think I have so many in the fridge?”

“Congrats! You gonna’ hook me up?” Everett called.

“Maybe… if you’re nice to me. And Sophie.”

Everett and I stared at each other uncomfortably. I’d forgotten how pretty his green eyes were. Actually I hadn’t, which I found disconcerting. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t look away. His eyes held me hostage, but not in the controlling way Hagen’s did. I held Everett’s gaze out of free will.

“How have you been?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.

What was there to say? I was too polite to lie that I was having the time of my life with Hagen, while at the same time, too prideful to admit that things with Hagen weren’t exactly perfect — or were quite possibly over.

I settled on, “I’ve been fine.”

He must have seen the play of emotions on my face for he looked amused. I had probably given everything away by my expressions alone. If memory served me correctly, Everett could read me like a book. Sure enough, he asked, “Then why do I sense something’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, knowing it was pointless to deny it.

I tried to put his all-knowing look out of my mind, instead focusing on shaking my hair from my towel and working through the tangles with my fingers.

“How’s your knee?” he asked after some time.

“My knee?” I repeated, confused.

“Yeah, you sprained it, remember? Wiping out of the first day of school? Our little trip to the nurse’s office? I had to escort you back to your room.”

I held my breath hoping he’d stop there. Not in the mood to discuss past sins just yet, I cut him off before he could continue. “That seems so long ago. Thanks to you, it’s much better.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You totally saved the day.”

“And then ruined it.”

There he went. Ready or not, it was go time. “Seriously, Everett, I never thanked you for that day. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It was nothing. Really. I’d do it all again in a heart beat.” He must have seen the way my eyes narrowed at his comment, for he added, “The part where I ‘saved the day.’ Not the way it ended.” He sighed. “I wish I could redo that day. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.”

“Me too.”

“I’m really sorry about how I treated you and the things I said. It wasn’t fair,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes.

“Thanks. That means a lot, but I’m the one to blame. I never should have pushed you to talk. I’m totally ashamed of the things that came out of my mouth that day, especially bringing your brother into it. I’m sorry. That’s so not who I am.”

“Sophie, I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

“Well, then I accept your apology, too. I’m glad it’s settled,” I said, relieved.

The look on his face told me he wasn’t gung ho quite yet. He pursed his lips in thought. “I want to be your friend, but my friendship comes with a catch.” I frowned at him. “True friends tell each other the truth, no matter what. If I think your relationship with Hagen — or anything that you do — is harmful, then I am going to tell you. But I promise to do something I didn’t before.”

“What?”

“I promise to respect however you choose to react to what I tell you — act on it, take it with a grain of salt, or whatever.”

A sigh escaped my lips. We were so close yet so far away from where I wanted us to be. “But I don’t want your opinion about Hagen,” I whined, adding under my breath, “I already have enough questions about him as it is.”

“You do?” Everett sounded shocked. “Like what?”

I looked up to find him frowning at me. My better judgment told me not to discuss Hagen with him, but I truly trusted Everett’s judgment. I just hoped he wouldn’t use what I was about to tell him against me.

Chapter 22

False Hero

“You’ve been right about everything,” I said, not believing the words coming from my mouth. “Hagen is a compulsive liar and I don’t care for any of the people we hang out with. They are phony and fake, and they don’t care about me — not truly, like you and Mia.”

I expected Everett to be victorious that I’d admitted he was right, but instead, he looked worried. His concern gave me the bravery I needed, and my true feelings flooded out.

“I don’t agree with a lot of things Hagen does. He gossips more than any girl I’ve met. He’s mean spirited, dishonest, and controlling. I don’t trust him at all, and… I have this weird feeling that he’s cheating on me.”

“Whoa!” Everett’s shocked expression made it clear I was blowing his mind.

“This past Wednesday, he came over to my dorm unannounced. We talked for a while, but then—” I didn’t know how to share this next part or if I even should.

“What happened?”

“We got in a fight. He got angry and left. The next morning, it was clear he’d been drinking the night before and he had scratches down his neck, like from nails.”

“Did you confront him about it?”

“Yes. He said it was nothing and said he spent the night in his dorm. But he lies about everything, so why should I believe him?”

“Good question.”

I shot Everett a look, though he had a point. “These past three months, I’ve been so miserable,” I mumbled, burying my face in a pillow.

I felt Everett’s hand on my arm and desperately hoped he wasn’t about to say something sarcastic. “I’ve been miserable, too, Sophie. I’ve missed you.”

I looked up at him, lightheaded. Was I imagining this? I’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to Everett. He got my complexities. He didn’t understand parts of me, but all of me — the surface as well as the dark, hidden parts.