Committed to You (26 page)

I rested on my bed and returned to my book. Staring at her too long would only force her to escape to the hallway or the floor’s TV room. I hadn’t said much to her in the past two days after she told me that we would only be platonic friends. I decided to give her space and approach her again when she gave me a sign that she wanted more.

The sound of movement came from her side of the room. I checked in that direction and saw Evie swaying on her side as she tried to open a bottle of wine. The tip of the opener barely sank into the cork. She twisted the top of the opener and swung her hips from side to side. Black headphones covered her ears. Her thick black tresses hung past her shoulders. Three black roses decorated one side of her head. Pipe had delivered a large bouquet of black roses to her along with the red wine. She wore small gray shorts and a shirt with Ella Fitzgerald singing on the front. I loved the top because it was tight and wrapped around her breasts just right. Those full mounds on top of her chest had been the stars of my most sensual dreams.

I grinned. Bubbles of excitement skittered through my body. It was exhilarating to think about her and feel my body react in delicious ways. She was the first person to ever stimulate my senses—and not make me experience disgust and remorse. Just walking by me, Evie woke up my body and made me yearn see those wildly swinging hips and plump behind.

Stop watching her. If she catches you, she’ll be out of here.

Her perfume grabbed my attention as I tried to go back to my book.

"Damn it," she said to herself. "What the fuck?"

I checked the progress of the bottle opening. She’d been unsuccessful at yanking the cork. A chuck of it came out while the rest stayed lodged in the bottle.

Thunder roared and vibrated through the walls. Our lights flickered on and off as the rain seemed to become a water battle with the earth, and I was sure the planet would lose. Wind beat leaves and branches against the window. I cringed each time they scratched at the glass. Lightning flashed outside, casting a bright glow that lit up my Miss Piggy curtains.

"Stupid ass bottle," she murmured, probably unable to hear herself over the jazz blasting in her ears.

Should I help her open it?

I damn sure wanted to. The urge to be near her pounded in my chest every time she walked in the room. An exhilarating sensation thickened around me. It made me high and giddy just to inhale her captivating scent. The few times she spoke to me, her words played like soulful melodies in my ears. She had that way of transporting me out of my body and into some deeper existence where pain or depression didn’t exist.

“Maybe I can dig it out with a knife.” Her voice came out muffled due to her ears still being plugged. I laughed and knew she probably didn’t even realize she’d been talking out loud to herself.

I’m going to help her. I just have to be careful.

Evie was unpredictable. If I came on too strong she would probably brave the storm and run off. Even worst, she had no problem with punching, as I’d learned in these weeks of getting to know her.

Jumping up from my bed, I dropped my book and strolled over to her. With each step, the flowery fragrance of the roses in her hair traveled my way. I yearned to pull one out and drag those silky petals across her rich brown skin. But I couldn’t. At least not yet. She needed time to wrap her head around what she felt for me. I needed time to figure out if I really was in fact attracted to her.

It was why I was reading
The Ethical Slut.
I didn’t want a book that only discussed lesbianism or heterosexual lifestyles. I needed something that delved deeper into the human soul as well as dissected each person’s concept of sexuality and companionship. I’d been learning a lot, like, maybe I wasn’t sure if I loved women or not, but I knew I possessed deep feelings for Evie. I understood that I could sit back like a coward and not pursue those feelings or move forward on them and see what happened. Worst case scenario I lost her forever, which scared the crap out of me and was the reason I took my time approaching her.

“Evie!” I tapped her on the back.

She jumped and fisted her hands. Thankfully, I stepped back with my hands up and a smirk on my face. Pulling the headphones out of her ear, she raised her eyebrows. “What’s up, Cyn?”

Cyn. She calls me that more now. Is it because she feels a deeper connection between us or that it just caught on because of Jay.

“Let me help you get the rest of that cork out. I have a smaller opener in my drawer.” I rushed over to my side, got the little thing, and returned. “Alpha Omega Psi gave these things away at a gathering they had one semester.”

“You went to a frat party?”

“Yeah. I stood in a corner for a few minutes, freaked out, and left.” I picked up the bottle, dug the tiny tip into the cork, and wrenched it out in a few seconds. Evie hooted when I handed it back to her. My face reddened for some reason. She’d been making me blush a lot more lately.

“Do you want a drink with me?” she asked. “When Pipe isn’t around, I’m a light weight. I’m pretty much a one glass of wine girl.”

“Sure,” I squeaked.

She quirked her eyebrows at me for a second, shook her head, and lifted two silver glasses out of a box on her desk. Black infinity symbols trimmed the top of the glasses. “Pipe sent these with the roses and wine.”

“He’s so awesome.”

“I know, right?” She giggled as she poured.

“What are you doing tonight?” I grabbed a glass as soon as she finished pouring. “Are you going to get out of here and dance in the rain?”

“No way. That rain is too cold, and it’s crazy windy.” She tapped her glass against mine. “Tonight, I dance inside our warm and dry room.”

“And can I dance with you?” I took a sip and hoped my wicked thoughts didn’t show in my eyes.

Clearing her throat, she took out the headphones from her iPod and stuck it in the docking station hooked up to her speakers. “Of course you can dance with me.”

Music traveled throughout the room. A beautiful, sad little melody about a woman who was having her last drink with her lover before telling him goodbye forever. Although her voice was high, the tone rang low. That perfect mixture haunted the harmony and caused the piano and band to play just as heart-brokenly smooth as the soloist sang. My skin tingled. A sort of elated sensation fogged my head as if I’d smoked a joint or eaten one of Pipe’s ecstatic treats.

“This song is amazing,” I whispered.

“No. This song is Billie Holiday.”

“This makes me want to check out more of her songs.”

“Oh you have to. She’s amazing and will get you hooked. Her voice is a drug.”

I loved the way Evie’s lips moved as she spoke, relished in the few moments she bit that full bottom one when she was unsure about something or simply turned on. “Tell me something interesting about Billie Holiday.”

“She loved comic books, had bundles and bundles of them, although she died penniless.”

“What type did she like?”

“I have no idea. Good question. I’ve read many of her biographies, but all they do is focus on her creative process with music or her dark addiction with drugs. There were even two famous comic book artists who did a graphic novel about her life, but they pretty much illustrated the worst parts of her life. Lots of horrific stuff happened to her. She was raped when she was ten by this neighbor and then sent away by her mom to … ” Evie scrunched her face up in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up.”

“No. That’s okay. It’s her life, but that doesn’t sound like a pretty book of pictures.”

“No. Life can have some fucked up moments, but life usually isn’t all pain and darkness. Sure, there are some people somewhere on earth, dealing with some miserable things, but that’s not the case for everyone. Billie Holiday was raped as a little girl, but she survived and grew up to be a talented singer. I wished that could’ve been portrayed too.”

“Yeah, I like your story better. She was broken, yet she survived.”

“Women are strong.” She tapped my glass against mine again and gulped some wine. “It’s hard to keep us down for too long.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“No. It’s true. You have to believe it.”

The lights flickered off and on again. Due to Evie’s odd studying habits she kept tons of lemon candles and other fragrances that were supposed to motivate the brain cells to start working. She got a lighter from her drawer and lit a few. “I bet the lights are going to go out. They always freaking do when it rains hard. I wish they would fix it.”

“Never going to happen.” I laughed. “Now if it was the football players’ dormitory, then it would be taken care of immediately.”

“God yes.”

We talked more as the blues played and the lemon-scented candles lit the room. Our sips transformed into bigger swallows. Our nervous giggles became drunken chuckles and high-fiving as we pulled all the pillows from our beds and lounged on the floor. Pipe’s elegant bouquet of black roses sat in the middle against barely half of the bottle of wine. To make it a proper feast, Evie donated a few of her candy bars, and I offered a bag of chips with honey cheese dip. After a few hours, our predictions came true. The lights went off. Normally, girls’ screams would fill the air, and everyone would giggle and run out into the lobby or downstairs to our dorm mother. But it was too late. Most slept. Others made love. The rest didn’t care.

Yet, my body heated up as I rested next to Evie. Dim candle light danced against her skin. Her eyes appeared to be on fire as they glowed. Her blues filled the silence between us as we studied each others’ faces.

Friends don’t do this. They don’t stare for silent seconds in the candle light. There’s something more here between us. I can’t be crazy.

“If you died and could come back in another lifetime as a tree, what type would it be?” she asked.

“Banyan,” I said with no hesitation.

“Banyan? Why?”

“They’re the strongest ones in the forest. They start off as little host trees. Their roots start to grow around it, over and over, rising up from the ground and shooting up into the air. The outer shell of roots and bark are always growing.”

“What happens to the inside? The host?”

“It eventually dies. The centers of old banyan trees are usually hollow.”

“So it’s desperate to survive but the whole time killing its insides in the process.”

I paused with a weird look on my face. “Huh?”

“Sorry. Sometimes old remnants of marijuana highs rise up and take over my brain. I might have gone too deep with that one.”

“Maybe.” I giggled. “What tree would you come back as?”

“I would come back as an undirected graph.”

“That’s not a tree. You’re cheating,” I said.

“It’s a tree in graph theory.”

“Oh God, are you making up an excuse to bring up math?”

“When there is an undirected graph where any two vertices are connected by exactly one simple path, then it is a tree in graph theory.”

I pulled the bottle to me and placed it behind my back. “I’m cutting you off of wine for tonight.”

“What?” She reached for it.

“Yes.” I dodged her arm. “That was the worst answer I’ve ever heard for a question like that. Seriously.”

“Give me back the wine, crazy woman.” She nudged me.

“No way. Give me another answer and I’ll see.”

She squinted her eyes at me as if she was contemplating body slamming me. I mock growled which made her break into loud laughter. She fell on the floor and covered her stomach. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“I’m insane? You’re the one who said you would come back as a graph.”

“Fine. I would come back as a pecan tree.” She reached for the bottle of wine.

“Why?” I knocked her hand away.

She scooted closer. Her sweet scent consumed me. “Come on, Cyn.”

My nickname was succulent on her tongue. She scooted closer to me. There were barely four inches between our faces. We were closer than we’d ever been in this whole week. My heart sped up.

“Tell me why you chose a pecan tree,” I said.

“Because those are my favorite nuts.” She giggled.

“Why does that sound so dirty coming out of your mouth?” I asked.

“Because you have a dirty mind.”

“No way.” I brought the bottle in front of me and sat it in my lap. She would have to touch my thighs to grab it. I was hoping as much.

God, I want to kiss her.

“Did my answer pass the test, you Imprisoner of Wines?”

“You may take one sip.”

“Oh, aren’t I lucky?” She leaned my way and grabbed the bottle, her fingers brushing against my thighs. My body hummed. My legs warmed. I was so close to her, I could just tilt an inch and trap her lips to mine.

Not yet.

She wasn’t ready, and neither was I. And where the hell did Jay play into all of this? I cared about him, but felt nothing compared to what I did for Evie. But Jay wasn’t going anywhere. Like me, he pretended to give her space. I spotted him a few times in the background as I followed Evie to her class a few times. The very thought of anybody finding out about Jay’s and my obsessive actions toward her freaked me out. Surely we were behaving like psychotic people. Normal individuals didn’t stalk their ex or future lovers. They waited patiently for that love interest to come to them.

I’m tired of trying to be normal.

I would give her time now, a few weeks, maybe even a whole month. I’d even sit back and let Jay fuck up a few times, as I was sure he would do. She’d been pretending to be going on dates and telling Jay that so he would back off. What she didn’t understand was that he wouldn’t leave her alone just because she started dating. He would come on stronger.

And when he messes up enough, she’ll be through with him and most other men. Maybe she’ll explore this other side with me. Maybe we can figure it out together.

“What are you thinking about over there?” She poured us both a glass, finishing the bottle.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. You look like you’re going to explode with joy over there. What’s happening? Are you seeing somebody?”