Second Down (Moving the Chains Book 2) (11 page)

Evie turns her face up to me, a wide, genuine grin spread across her cheeks. My lungs forget to move oxygen. I still have my arm draped over her chair, and she’s so close that I can feel her breath on my chin. She reaches up a slender hand to pat my cheek. “Aww, don’t be sad, Superjock. It was a good run being at the top while it lasted.”

Blinking a few times to remind myself that this isn’t real, I offer the only comeback currently running through my mind. “You scare me sometimes, you know that?”

She shrugs, still wearing that same big smile. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do.” Shit. I said that out loud. I know I did, because the tiniest smile tugs at her kissable lips before she turns back to the rest of the conversation around the table. It seems no one else heard my slip up. Or at least that’s what I believe until Alex kicks me under the table.

Turning my gaze slowly to him, wearing a what-the-fuck-did-I-just-do-and-why-did-you-let-me expression, his only answer is a wink and a sly smirk.

Chapter 14

Hear Me

Eva

The alarm on my phone sings to me. Mustering the incredible willpower not to throw it across the room, I blink at the ceiling. Sleep’s claws don’t relinquish their hold easily. That’s what happens when you’re out until two in the morning with your sort-of boyfriend acting like a couple of middle school punks.

It’s surprising how just a few hours with him erased all the awkward tension of the past few weeks, only to replace it with questions of how to label our relationship in this post-attack phase of life.

The memories that play through my mind make it easier to face another day.

After we left the diner, Rob insisted we go ahead with our plans to begin checking items off the list. He’d been mostly quiet during the scavenger hunt planning session. He never took any of the fries that I offered him. I just wanted him to smile again, so I suggested we draw first blood on the cling wrap item, offering up Alex’s Lexus as the only suitable option. While my suggestion definitely excited him, we still went to the store to gather several rolls of cling wrap in silence.

We knew we’d have to stake out Alex’s house until he came home from being with Rachel, so we sat down the block for over an hour. The more time went by, the more Rob loosened up, playing stakeout with me like a couple of slaphappy dorks. It was so much fun. It’s the closest I’ve seen to the old Rob in over a year.

Rob even confided in me that he’s not a fan of Alex dating Rachel. He’s known them both since they were all in grade school together. While his loyalty to Alex knows no bounds, he’s worried Alex will pull the same crap he always does. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. He doesn’t want to see Rachel get hurt.

When I suggested that Rachel has also known Alex since kindergarten and is well aware of his dating habits, Rob seemed genuinely shocked as if that thought had never crossed his mind. I further defended her decision to willingly enter into a relationship with a known serial dater by pointing out the obvious fact that Rachel’s a big girl, capable of making her own decisions.

That really blew his mind.

Honestly, I just wanted to see if he’d draw the parallel between us and them. He didn’t.

We didn’t even notice when Alex pulled into his driveway, too busy laughing, telling stories, and…maybe flirting? After we saw the light shut off in Alex’s bedroom window, we went to work. Giggling the entire time, it was a real struggle to stay quiet enough to not be caught. An hour and four rolls of cling wrap later, Rob was trying to think of an inconspicuous way to be there in the morning to video Alex’s reaction.

I hadn’t felt so carefree in years.

I pick up my phone to turn off the alarm and see a text from Rob. He sent me the video of Alex finding his car, which he also posted on the school site. That has to be bonus points for us for sure. A stupid grin slides across my face as the energy to get out of bed hits me like five espressos. Rob’s stifled laughter floats through the speaker as he films Alex freak the fuck out when he sees his car. The video shakes and Rob’s cackling turns hysterical as Alex reemerges from his house with a pair of scissors, screaming revenge on whoever is responsible. My excitement over today reaches a new level. Amazing how much joy it brings me to hear Rob happy even if only on video.

I roll out of bed in a good mood for once.

I have a fake date to get ready for. And a maybe-boyfriend to test.

***

“You look really nice, Evie.” I barely hear him over the hum of the Mustang as we speed down the highway.

It’s the first time Rob has actually spoken to me since he arrived at my doorstep, clutching a bouquet of flowers. His pained expression, downcast eyes, and slumped shoulders were a swift reminder of just how unlikely a relationship with him should be. If I thought it was awkward when Eddie picked me up all those times last year, well…today blows that out of the water. All of the excitement and joy from this morning are long gone.

I’m really starting to believe that everyone lied to me about my short relationship with Rob. That would be so much easier to take.

“Thank you. You do too.” And he does. Even though he doesn’t actually want to be here, you’d never know by the looks of him. It seems that he put in just as much effort for this fake date as he might for a real one. His hair looks as styled as he used to wear it; the perfectly imperfect strands tempt my fingers to feel their softness. He’s wearing a blue pin-stripe dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of dark rinse jeans. He hasn’t made direct eye contact with me once, but that hasn’t stopped me from noticing how the color of the shirt makes his irises look like a clear blue sky.

“I’m really sorry for whatever Papou said to you, by the way. I already told them exactly what’s going on, so I’m not sure why he felt the need to give you the ‘keep your grubby hands off my granddaughter speech’.”

At least, I told them what it looks like on the surface. Whether Rob will ever admit anything to me remains to be seen.

“It was nothing like that, promise.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No.” The awkward silence that ensues when he doesn’t offer any other explanation stifles the already heavy air in the car.

With every mile that passes, it becomes more and more clear that I should never have asked him for this chance to prove to our classmates that we’re just fine after the attack. Maybe it was the guilt of Kerri’s accusations that made me do it. I can’t stand the idea that she’s right, and that I broke him. It was selfish of me to want to assuage my own conscience by staying on Court together. I really wish Alex had never opened his stupid mouth too. I have this bizarre need to prove it’s not a lie. That Rob and I were ever together. It sure doesn’t feel like it.

The strains of a twangy guitar fill the car when Rob turns on the radio. I snap my gaze from the scenery to see him glance at me. For a brief moment, his eyes hold something in them that make my stomach liquefy and tickle my brain with the barest brush of a memory.

“Since you don’t like country, you can change it to whatever station you want,” he offers.

“Really?”

Isn’t a guy’s radio his domain? Sort of like remote controls, locker rooms, and man caves?

Rob’s laugh is soft, but more genuine than anything he’s given me so far today. “I know how much you love music. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be bored.”

I have no response to that. It’s not that I can’t believe he cares for my comfort; it’s just…I don’t know. He’s both admitting to me that he really has nothing to say to me while trying to be a good date? He’s so much more of a conundrum now than he ever was.

“That’s okay,” I respond. “Your car, your tunes.”

After several moments of sound that has me gritting my teeth, he shuts the radio off and silence blankets us once more.

Miles pass until Rob clears his throat, the unmistakable sound of discomfort catching my attention.

“Do you know why Jeremy and I are such good friends? Or, how we got to be friends, I guess, is the better way to phrase it…” He shoots me a quick look again, but this time there’s just amusement sparkling in his gaze.

And what a sight for sore eyes that is. If he wants to try to make conversation, I’m all for it. I’ll do anything to get back the easy way we were with each other last night.

“No. I know you went to Our Lady together, but that’s it.”

“We were in band together until eighth grade. Percussion section.”  

Mind. Blown.

So,
that’s
why he’s always drumming his fingers, and I got the sense that he has rhythm. ‘Cause he actually does. “Do you still play?”

Rob shrugs like what he’s just told me is no big deal. “Sometimes. If I’m over at Jeremy’s, I’ll get on his kit for shits and giggles, but I’m not as good as I used to be.”

“You were good?” I don’t even bother trying to hide the surprise in my voice because…total shock.

“Yeah, really good, actually.” And there’s that childish grin I’ve missed so much. “I’m going to kick ass at being drum major on Monday.”

The mental image of this big, burly quarterback up on the podium and conducting band practice is just too much. I can’t contain my laughter no matter how hard I try. “Oh, I am so sorry I’m going to miss that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure someone will video the proof of my awesomeness.”  

And there’s that out of control ego too. “I hope no one videos my efforts to replace you at practice. Basketball, I can do. Football? I’ve never even tried.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t gonna send you in blind. We’ll go over some basic passing techniques tomorrow. I’ll teach you some of my best moves.” He waggles his eyebrows, and we both break into uncontrolled laughter.

By the time we enter the museum the mood is back to light and fun. It seems the ticket to getting through this week is to focus on how easy it is as long as we’re friends rather than to even try and pretend that we were ever a couple.

With that mindset firmly in place, I hand over a twenty to cover my admission for the afternoon.

“Um, no. The girl never pays, Evie.” Rob rolls his eyes as he pays the lady at the counter, but tension radiates from his body.

I don’t want to devolve into the awkwardness of when he picked me up, so I jab at him like a friend would. “You’re a terrible gender equalist. You know that, right?”

And mission fail. A dark cloud passes over Rob’s face, changing his eyes from blue to teal in an instant.

Clearly I’m no help at navigating this fake date crap, so I turn away before I can shove my foot in my mouth any more.

The Saturday crowd ambles around, families with squealing children excited to see the dinosaur fossils, couples arm in arm heading for the art galleries, and the usual hipsters waxing on about the deeper meaning of the newest exhibits in the front. Trying not to come in contact with the sea of other bodies swirling around us is futile. Eventually someone brushes against me, freezing my feet to the ground as I try to control my inevitable reaction.

Suddenly a strong arm wraps around my shoulders, and Rob’s scent fills my nostrils. “Evie, I know this isn’t a real date, but I can still be your armor if you need me.”

What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to make him feel more awkward, but dammit…I
do
need him.

I hide my face in his side and simply nod, ashamed at myself.

“Done. Now let’s go look at some mummies.” He expertly weaves his way through the throngs of strangers, steering us in the direction we need to go.

We make our way through ancient Egypt, the rocks and minerals, and the dinosaur section. Rob makes good on his promise to be my buffer between the other patrons and me, but what really sets my mind at ease is watching his childlike glee over every little thing. The longer we walk around, studying the exhibits and taking our time to pore over every bit of knowledge around us, the more I’m reminded of the brilliant boy I knew freshman year.

Does anyone ever get to see this geeky side of him anymore? Would I have gotten to see it more often if we’d stayed together?

By the time we meander over to the art galleries, the crowds have thinned. We encounter mostly couples, taking in the beauty of the paintings and sculptures in the quieter setting on this side of the museum. There’s no need to keep me tucked safely into his side, but he continues to hold my hand as we stroll through the corridors, stopping to look at whatever piques our interest.

I glance up to him when he stops in front of another painting. The sadness on his face and the faraway look in his eyes are unmistakable. There’s nothing about this particular piece that leaps out as depressing, so it takes me longer than it should after surreptitiously observing him through several more galleries to realize what’s probably going on in his head.

Even being here with me on a fake date is too much for him to handle.

The realization hits me with the force of a kidney punch, stealing the breath from my lungs and rooting my feet to the floor.

Rob moves on, but I stand still until our arms are extended between us. I drop his hand as he rounds back to me.

“Evie, you okay?” The sadness in his eyes has been replaced with worry, and he brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek, which honestly just makes the tears well in my eyes that much more. Such a tender caress; I’m sure he doesn’t even realize he’s done it. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Those sweet words do me in. Closing my lids to block out his face and beautiful eyes, the first tear slides down, uncaring that I prefer to hide my emotions. And when he cups my dampening cheeks with both hands, his big thumbs swiping at the moisture, it’s a struggle not to outright sob in the middle of the Neoclassical Gallery. Weak girl that I am though, I can’t step away from the gentle strokes offered up by the only person whose touch doesn’t elicit my deepest, darkest terrors.

“Evie, baby, talk to me. Did something upset you? What’s going on?”

Traitorous saline continues to flow down my face, and after several tries, I think I can sound believable. “Nothing. I don’t even know why I’m crying, really.”