The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) (20 page)

I stare at her, a little dumbfounded. Sure, Koby and I were getting a little heated, but we’re guys. It would have blown over in a few minutes on its own. Then, a little belatedly, the
anyone else
part of her words hits me.

“Evie,” I say, a little incredulously. “No one is going to hit you for hugging another guy. That’s stupid.”

She’s staring at the ground and her voice is a whisper. “Tony would. He did.”

I realize too late that I’m not being nearly sensitive enough for her feelings. Regardless of whether I’m keeping my distance or not, I said I would help her get over all this. I told her to work on her problems and here she is doing just that and I’m belittling the issue. It’s stupid to me but it’s real to Evie and that’s all that matters. She’s right and I’m wrong. Too late I remember what she told me over the summer—Tony tried to kill her that night simply because I touched her hair.

I do the only thing I can think of. I reach out and wrap my arms around her, pulling her firmly against my chest. Her scent hits me like a physical blow, enveloping me, making me feel like I’m drowning. I breathe it in like it’s the only air that can keep me alive. It’s been way too long since I’ve held her and it feels way too good.

Too good to last.

Still, I hold her as close and tight as I’m able, because I know she needs it. And selfishly, I need it too.

“Evie Parker,” I say clearly, forcefully. Each word is pronounced distinctly and I make sure there is iron and steel lacing my words. “I will never, ever hit you. Ever. For as long as I live. For any reason.
Never
.”

“I know that,” she says quickly, a tremor in her voice that she works to hide. “I really do. It was just… a rough moment. I just needed to hear it out loud.”

“We all have our moments,” I say, and swallow hard. I’ve been having one big moment ever since our first date and not being honest with Evie about them. About my feelings. About the notes. About her dad. At least she’s actually trying to get better.

I should tell her. Sit down and tell her everything. About the notes, what I know, little that it is, about her dad. The fear that loving me will end in disaster for her, just as it’s destroyed everyone else around me.

She would understand the fears, at least. This is Evie and she’s always understood me better than I understand myself, just as I do her. And because of that fact, I can clearly picture the disgust in her eyes when she hears what I know about her dad.

And so selfishly, because this is the closest I’ve been to her in weeks, I stay silent. I stay a coward, I stay selfish and I stay stupid. Just as my dad always calls me. I don’t say anything.

I just hold Evie with all that I have, comforting myself through comforting her.

Evangeline

103

Things are just a little better at school, but only a little. Zeke waits for me at the front doors the next day. We walk together to our lockers in silence. I don’t care. It’s comforting enough to have him back at my side. He’s been blaming the art show for taking all his time, but since Saturday night, I’m beginning to think that I know better.

Zeke is avoiding me because of how he feels about me. I spent nearly all day Sunday writing about it in my journal, so much that the thing is almost a third full already. But it helps to clear my thoughts and made me realize what the real problem is with Zeke.

He’s still scared to death of his emotions.

And now that I’ve identified the problem, supposedly the first step, I just have to figure out what to do about it.

Zeke and I part ways outside my classroom and I watch him walk away until he’s disappeared. Too bad I have no idea where to start, yet again.

I’m distracted all day by people from the dance committee coming up and asking me questions. At first it’s just to confirm that we actually found a second venue. Then it turns to questions about set up, opinions about decorations they had made or ideas they’d had, and had I come up with a theme for prom yet?

I reach the lunch table where Koby is sitting alone and collapse down in a chair, exhausted. I haven’t had so many people talk to me in the hallways or in class back when I’d been dating Tony, let alone at any point this year.

“You too?” Koby asks. He’s pulling a sandwich from a paper bag and looks almost as weary as I feel.

“They won’t leave me alone,” I whine, despite the immaturity of it. “Who voted me as one of the co-presidents of dance committee overnight?”

“I think it’s because you helped ‘save the dance.’” Koby makes quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “Technically, we’re like heroes to them now. Some of their lives revolve around it because it’s the only school hobby they do and they’ve done it all four years of high school. No one wanted to leave a gym homecoming legacy.”

“So we’re stuck with it,” I sigh. “Fine. What’s the plan for after school today? More decorations?”

Dominic and Zeke sit down with their trays as Koby launches into a detailed explanation of what is left to be done. Before he’s gotten very many words out, a tray slams down next to mine and Jenny is sliding into the chair next to mine.

“Deal with it,” she snaps at Koby, who is staring at her with an almost horrified look. “Let’s be mature for five seconds.”

Now we’re all staring at her, Dominic and Zeke included. Jenny pretends not to notice as she cracks open her can of pop.

“Mr. Riordan caught me just now in the hallway. The hotel called him and apparently the flooding got to the backdrop we’d already dropped off there. It’s completely ruined.”

Koby and I both groan.

“We can’t order a new one to be here by Saturday!” I cry, outraged. “That company sucks! This one already came late. And that was like the only other thing we spent money on instead of doing ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Jenny says dejectedly. “The hotel will cut us a check when they get their insurance money and Mr. Riordan says he’ll front it to us but that we need to come up with what to do.”

“This is a disaster.” I can’t hold back a groan. “How are we supposed to get a new backdrop that doesn’t look totally lame?”

“We… could paint it,” Koby says slowly.

“But none of us are very-” I begin, and then break off when I see he’s looking not at me or Jenny, but at Zeke. My lips form a soft
oh
of understanding.

Silence falls and a minute later Zeke becomes aware that the three of us are staring at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

Jenny, Koby and I all exchange looks and lean toward Zeke. I’m beginning to think we look like a bad conspiracy movie.

“We need a new backdrop painted for the dance,” I say, point blank. “And word on the street…”

“Aw, come on, Evie!” Zeke groans, jerking away from us with almost theatrical drama. “No way. I have the art show this Friday. I don’t-”

“Oh, shut it,” Koby interrupts, waving a hand at him in disgust. “We all know you’re ready for the show and will win first place. Help a brother—and two sisters—out. Doesn’t—hey, Jenny, how much was the backdrop?”

“Three-fifty, not including tax and shipping,” she says instantly.

Koby turns back to Zeke, a challenge in his dark eyes. “Doesn’t three hundred and fifty dollars for a painting sound attractive? I bet Mr. Riordan can get you class time to do it and you can set it up on Thursday and get some of the extra credit he’s offering.”

He and Zeke stare each other down for a long moment and then Zeke’s eyes flit toward me. I pout my lips and clasp my hands in front of my chest, begging him with my eyes.

Please,
I mouth, hoping he’ll say yes. Partly because it would be nice to have him around, even if it’s forced, and partly because anything painted by Zeke will be far more beautiful than something we could have ordered.

Zeke sighs and raises his hands in defeat. As he shakes his head, Jenny and I squeal in excitement and Koby high-fives us both.

Ezekiel

104

I don’t think I can have imagine a more awkward situation than setting up for Homecoming on Thursday night. The air in the room is so thick with tension you can snap it in half.

Tension between Jenny and Koby, paired together to drape tulle on the walls. Tension between my art table mate, Paula, and her friend Alison because apparently one is a slacker and one is a perfectionist. Tension between Dominic, who I dragged along with me, and his own partner Tina, who is lined up to be our valedictorian. Tension between Evie and me, paired together working on the backdrop.

Tension between all of us students and Mr. Riordan because honestly, students and teachers should never, ever interact off school grounds. Like ever.

We all work in silence for a long time, way too long. Finally, I can take it no longer and excuse myself for a moment, heading for the corner of the room where the DJ will set up on Saturday. There’s a private speaker system there wired to just this room. The instant some music is flowing from my phone, everyone seems to take a deep breath and relax. Jokes start flowing and finally some laughter dares to spill out. In the stress of almost losing their venue, I think they all forgot that this could—should—be fun.

Tension floats away for the most part, though I can’t speak for Evie and me. She doesn’t really look at me and I can’t blame her. I’ve barely spoken to her all week. I blamed the art show and this painting when she asked if I wanted to study together on Tuesday, but for some reason I felt like she saw right through me.

She’d just nodded, face impassive, and told me to have a good night. Even now, she’s not being rude or offish. Or even acting sad. She’s just
quiet.

And I hate it.

I just want a bit of distance between us, so I can keep myself under control and in check. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t talk to me at all.

I do realize pushing her away as hard as I have been lately probably tells her to do just that and that all my thoughts are basically those of a madman. I just don’t care. Right now, Evie’s lips are pursed as she considers the foliage surrounding the painting. Her hair is a long dark curtain down her back, chocolate and shiny. And all I want is to touch her. Kiss her.

The urge almost overwhelms me for a moment and finally I gain control of it. But not enough so I can keep myself from sidling up till I’m standing next to Evie. I lean down to talk into her ear, taking in a deep breath of her scent as I do so.

I’m a fucking nut job. Taking
sniffs
of my girlfriend instead of kissing her. If I ever needed confirmation I am crazy, it’s right here before me.

“What do you think happened between them, anyway?” I ask.

We’re both facing Jenny and Koby and we watch them together for a moment. They interact stiffly, carefully aware of each other and precise in the distance they keep.

Evie breaks her gaze away and looks up at me, staring for a minute before blinking owlishly. “It’s kind of a long story,” she says with a sigh. “Basically Tiffany and the Barbie gang got in the way. They, um, insulted Koby and Jenny didn’t defend him. Last spring. So she’s kind of… breaking away from them just like I am. So I guess it’s up to Koby if he can forgive or get past it.”

“Hmm,” I say. I have no other response. Koby never said anything to me but then again, he probably just didn’t want me to know. And if it was last spring when Cindy died, it would explain why I didn’t really notice anything.

“I wish we could help them,” Evie says wistfully. “They would get along so well together.”

I can’t help but grin and nudge her with my elbow. Just the small touch lights me on fire. Damn. I’ve got it bad.

“
Us
? Matchmakers? Because love and emotions and relationships have always been our specialty.”

Evie gives me a quiet grin. “Touché.”

I huff a small laugh and fiddle with a few plants around the small dais before stepping back. “Well. This all looks pretty good to me.”

Evie regards it with a critical eye and then nods. “Probably as good as it’s going to get.”

“Good. That means I can finally get out of here.” I look around and shudder. “I’ve spent way too much time here this week as it is.”

“Will it be weird to come on Saturday and be part of an event and not actually working it?” Evie asks, folding up the unused tulle.

I freeze in my own work, suddenly feeling very strange. When I finally get the balls to slowly turn around, Evie is already staring at me, her face carefully blank.

“You weren’t planning on coming.” Her voice is flat, unassuming.

“Well, no.” I scratch my head. There aren’t very many situations that actually make me feel awkward—or at least where I can’t hide the feeling. Awkward is a foreign feeling to me. But boy am I feeling it now. “I mean, Homecoming and me? We’re kind of polar opposites, you know?”