Page 18 of The Embrace of Evergreen
I cringe in response. “No one tonight, Eve. Just enjoying my friends.”
I don’t know why it bothers me that Ethan has a front row seat for the exchange. I know I’ve spent the past few years sleeping with almost anything that moves, and while I wouldn’t say it’s something I’m proud of per se, it’s certainly not something I’m embarrassed by.
Fortunately, Gabriel has my back, just like he always does.
“Come on, Evie, leave the poor man alone. He hasn’t taken anyone home for months.”
I don’t know how he knows that I want Ethan to realize that, but I’m grateful enough to shoot him a wink as he drags Evie over to the dance floor.
We stay until nearly closing time, and for someone who’s never been to a club before, once Ethan loosened up, he seemed to relax and have a genuinely good time.
“Thank you.” Ethan’s smile is soft and content as we stand outside the club waiting for his rideshare. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look this way, and I want to do everything I can to put that look on his face more often.
“For what?”
He shrugs. “Inviting me.”
“You’re more than welcome. I hope we weren’t too terrifying, and you’ll consider coming out with us again.”
His phone beeps loudly, indicating that the silver car that just pulled up to the curb a few feet away is his ride.
“I’d like that,” he mumbles almost nervously as he slips his phone into his pocket.
It feels like the end of a first date. The air hangs heavy around us as anticipation mixes with salt and early morning humidity, and I don’t want to watch him drive away. I don’t want him to be a monk or a murderer either. I want him to be mine.
“See you for coffee on Monday?”
Friends have coffee, right? I have coffee with Gabriel all of the time. Ethan’s new in town, and in truth, he seems a bit lonely, even though I don’t really know him well enough to know why I get that impression. I can’t let my infatuation become anything more, but I can be his friend.
It’s not much. It’s definitely not what my body or my stupid devious heart wants, but it’s a way for me to keep him in my life.
He nods once, his smile widening. “I’d like that too.”
Chapter 8
Ethan
“I know you’re usually busy on weekends with whatever super-secret spy-level plans you’ve never chosen to share with me. Which is fine of course - you do you - but is there any chance you’d be willing to change them next weekend?” Blue asks as he leans back in his chair, his eyes closing in enjoyment momentarily as he sips his espresso.
He asks casually as if he’s asking how I like the unusually warm fall weather. As if the way he’s treating me like an old friend isn’t startling or frightening. He asks as if it’s a perfectly normal question. He asks as if he assumes I know how to process his inquiry and answer like someone who has the type of friendships that lead to weekend plans with others.
He’s been kind to me over the past couple of months. Gabriel has been too. I suppose if I take the timeto think about the way they’ve treated me without letting myself spiral into a panicked tornado of self-doubt and insecurity, they’ve treated me like their friend since we first met. Or at least like they wouldn’t object to my continued presence in their lives. I’ve taken to spending my mornings working in the coffee shop before shifting over to the gallery after lunch, and Blue has stopped by a handful of times each week since the day we met up so that he could give me my vase. Every time he’s seen me, he’s settled in across from me to chat for at least a few minutes. They’ve even semi-forced me to tag along on their Friday Night Friend Dates a couple more times over the past few weeks, which has been terrifying, but not in an altogether bad way. Even though I haven’t exactly had a lot of experience with friendships in my life, I can do this. I can stay calm and answer like a normal human instead of a skittish zoo animal trying not to scare off the person who's offering it food.
“Probably.”
Good answer. Simple. Vague. Normal. Well done, me.
His smile widens, and his stormy eyes seem to glisten in the fiery rays of afternoon light that have started to peek through the clouds. They’re mesmerizing. How have I never noticed the way the small, almost golden flecks seem to dance across the field of blue so pale it’s almost grey? How have I never noticed that those flecks sparkle like the glint of sunlight bouncing off cresting waves in the middle of the sea?
“Do you want to come out with me to the wooden boat festival?”
He seems to think those are words I’ll understand.
“The what now?”
He laughs in response to my apparent confusion, but his laughter is kind and open and honest and not at all the laugh of someone who thinks less of me because I don’t understand the question. As we’ve spent time together, I’ve come to realize that’s just who he is. He goes through life just sort of doing what he wants without worrying what others might think and enjoying himself along the way. Watching the way he lives will never get old.
“It’s this annual festival in this quaint little seaport town out on the peninsula. It’s sort of a big deal locally. Hundreds of people bring these wooden boats they’ve restored. I mean, really, some of them are huge and crazy impressive, and everyone just sort of wanders the docks, and ooo’s and ahh’s at them. Which sounds sort of lame when I say it that way, I guess, but there are food trucks and live music and little art stalls set up along the main street, and Gabriel is performing Friday and Saturday night for the third year in a row, which is sort of a big deal for him.”
