Halfway Perfect (26 page)

Eve is looking at me like I'm crazy. Like she's wondering if really good sex does strange things to my head. And I'm not gonna lie, it does, especially with her. But I've had two days to think about this, and I know it has to be done. I don't have to expose every detail, but I just have to be me again.

“I'm calling Wes tomorrow to tell him, and he's gonna be pissed as hell, but he'll get over it and figure out a solution both of us can live with,” I say.

“You'll lose the fragrance campaign,” Eve whispers. “They'll reshoot it with someone else.”

I nod. “I realize that. I'm willing to take that risk. I'll still get enough jobs and income on my own, and you know Elana won't have any problem absorbing this setback. She's way hotter than me right now.”

Eve's just sitting there frozen and panicked.

“And now, if you want,” I say, because she's not responding, “you can get away from the rumors about you and Wes. I know plenty of people in the industry if you need to work. I'll help you get hooked up with another agency and another agent, and it would be like a fresh start for you. Bury all those demons.”

I know for a fact she hasn't officially signed with Wes or the agency yet. The intern I strategically conned for information told me that, along with unintentionally revealing Eve's location by telling me that Wes requested an extra key for an apartment in this building. I put two and two together after talking to Stephanie and hearing that Eve wasn't at her aunt's place in Jersey. Plus, Eve's only booked two jobs and hasn't even done them yet. No reason to sign anything.

Eve shakes her head, looking royally pissed off. “Don't you get it, Alex? No one else is going to sign me. Wes is doing this out of guilt. He feels sorry for me. I bet he's bribed these people into giving me the two jobs I've managed to get. They probably owe him a favor or he promised them a bigger client in return.”

I drop my hand from her face and try to process why she looks so panicked and angry. And then I remember Jared's words from the other day,

If
I
were
you, Alex, I'd look into what made her walk away. There's a piece missing from this story. Think about it? A fifteen-year-old in a relationship with someone my age. She needed him. She needed an adult figure in her
life.

Then I think about all the things Wes has said about Eve…
Eve
is
really
messed
up…she needed someone to look out for her…she was so insecure it started bleeding into her work…Evie's always had an issue with thinking
realistically.

“Why are you letting him set these limits for you? I don't get it,” I say. “It doesn't seem like something you'd do.”

Eve scoots away from me. “What are you talking about?”

I reach for her again, but she moves back farther. “
Wes.
I'm talking about Wes. He's making you think no one can help you except him. That without him, you're a hopeless cause.”

She jumps up from the floor and starts rifling around for her clothes. Not a good sign.

“Unfortunately, right now, that's probably true,” she snaps as she tosses her sweatshirt over her head.

Since I don't want to sit on the floor naked while she's pissed off and fully dressed, I reach for my boxers and slide them on before standing up to retrieve my jeans.

I'm fastening my belt while she's pulling on her sweatpants, her back to me. “If he can't have you, he doesn't want anyone else to have you. He wants you to need him.”

She spins around, her face twisted with anger. “Don't fucking psychoanalyze me! You make my life sound like the plot of a Lifetime movie. Yes, a messed-up fifteen-year-old version of me needed someone like Wes, but I'm not that person anymore. I need him for completely different reasons now. He can tell me whatever bullshit he wants to as long he keeps booking jobs for me.”

I move closer to her, carefully noting the way she's squeezing her hands into fists. “What are you not telling me, Eve? Why would you give up all of that money and fame to go back to struggling? Did you catch him cheating? Did you love someone else and you couldn't tell him?”

She closes her eyes, letting out a frustrated breath. “Trust me, you don't want to know.”

I try to rest my hands on her arms, but she jerks away from me. How did we go from rolling around naked to this distant, don't-touch-me situation? “I do want to know. I really do.”

Her eyes fly open, and she looks right at me, resolve filling her expression. “Fine. Just remember that you asked for it.”

I hold my breath and wait for her to fill in this big blank that's been hanging over my head ever since Jared brought things to light for me.

“He scared me. He'd get really pissed off and then…and then throw things or sometimes hit me.” Her voice is shaking, but she looks sure and confident with the idea of telling me now. “When words weren't enough to bring me down, Wes got physical. I wasn't the compliant, obedient client that you are. I pissed him off, a lot. I screwed up a lot. The more I loved him, the more desperate we got to cling to each other. And I never expected that leaving, my threat to try and get him to go back to being nice again, would ruin my career. I thought he'd fix it like he'd fixed everything before that. But he didn't. And it was too late.” She takes a breath and then goes in for one last hit. “And just so you know, Elana is into Wes, really into him. But I don't know if it's been reciprocated or not. I don't know if it's just a crush.”

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me, and instinctively, I back up a couple of steps as if the space will help me think or react or something.

Eve nods expectantly. “That's what I thought. You don't want to deal with this any more than I do. You just want me to get a new agent and for you to break up with Elana and then everything with you and me will be just fine. But the truth is, right now, everything is just fine for you, Alex, and you're an idiot for even thinking about screwing that up.”

I open my mouth to protest while Eve sinks into the couch, putting her head in her hands. “I told you the truth, so can you leave now?”

It's not really a question, and her voice is so cold I can't bring myself to move closer again. I pick up my shirt from the floor and throw it over my head and then put on my shoes.

“Eve,” I start.

“Just go, Alex!” she snaps.

And then she gets up and locks herself in one of the bedrooms, giving me no choice but to head back to my place. It's probably best that I leave now anyway. It's hard to think about talking to Eve right when I'm filled with two very conflicting, yet completely dominating thoughts: (1) I'm in way over my head, and (2) I need to punch someone, and Wes Danes is at the top of my list.

On the walk home, I call Brad even though it's the middle of the night. I don't know what else to do with this bomb that Eve has dropped on me.

It takes a few tries to get him to answer, and I'm already rounding the final block, almost at my place, by the time his groggy voice interrupts the rings.

“Okay, shithead, you better be in jail and needing bail or on your deathbed to call me at this hour,” Brad says.

“I'm contemplating murder and need you to talk me out of it or into it. I'm not sure which.”

“I'm listening.”

I enter my building and head for the stairs up to my apartment, checking Jason and Landon's empty rooms before locking myself into mine. I take my time giving Brad all the details I've recently acquired, and he surprises me by taking the logical route, which seems to be more of Jared's approach lately. I think subconsciously, I chose to call Brad over Jared because I didn't feel like being rational.

“So what are you planning on doing?” Brad says. “Showing up at Wes's place and beating the shit out of him for hitting Eve two years ago?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Sounds like a good way to go to jail, ruin your life, and in the process leave Wes alone with Eve
and
Elana,” Brad says. “And let me help cancel out some of your other predictable options in advance. Like telling someone what Eve told you with the hope of getting Wes arrested?”

“That's reasonable, right?” I'm not able to think even a little bit clearly at the moment so I'm relying 100 percent on my brother, who has been known to read summaries of SparkNotes instead of reading the entire SparkNotes or actually reading a required book.

“This is how it will go down, Alex. You'll tell Wes's boss or someone above him and then they'll ask Eve if it's true. She'll say no, because she's trying to make money and she's trying to get the drama out of her life. In reality, there was no risk in her telling you the truth.” He pauses, giving me a second to catch up. “The only reason she didn't tell you everything already is probably for her own pride. Girls who have been through what Eve has tend to blame themselves and they tend to be ashamed of it and think it makes them look weak or stupid or not worthy of someone who wouldn't hurt them.”

I can't get past the fact that he hit her. He hit her and he needs to pay for that, but I get what Brad is saying about Eve finally telling me the truth. She had a clear objective. “She's trying to push me away. That's why she told me.”

“Yeah, she was banking on the truth being way too much for you to handle,” he says. “Even if Wes isn't going to hit her ever again, he's got her wrapped around this manipulative cycle of verbal and mental abuse, giving her just enough of what she needs to keep her around.”

“So what now? I can't pretend she didn't tell me what she told me.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I hate to say it, but there's not much you can do at the moment. Eve is an adult. It's up to her to decide if she wants to speak up. Elana, on the other hand, is not an adult, but she's in France right now, and Wes is in New York, correct?”

“Yeah.” I rub my temple with my free hand and close my eyes, trying to calm myself. I hate doing nothing. I think it's the hardest plan for me to follow.

“Do what you had planned already,” Brad says. “Tell Wes you want to break up with Elana and ditch that fake relationship. Wes isn't her agent, so maybe he won't have any reason to be around her anymore. And as far as Eve goes, she just needs to know that you're there for her. What exactly happened tonight, by the way? You guys didn't…”

My very long moment of silence answers Brad's question.

“Oh man, Alex. Bad idea. Very bad.”

“I know,” I groan. “That's not why I went over there. I tried to talk first…”

“Believe me, I get it. It's just that her and Wes, it sounds like it was all drama and sex and fighting, right?” he says.

“Right.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “And I just gave her a very similar memory with me. Sex, drama, and fighting. God, I suck at this.”

“I don't blame you, little bro. She's hot,” Brad says, and I let out a short laugh. “But don't sell Eve short. She left him once when she was in a much worse place. She's stronger than you think. And if I were you, I'd have that conversation with Wes about the breakup over the phone. If you show up at his office in a few hours, I doubt you'll be able to exhibit any amount of self-control.”

“Right. Good call.” I flop back onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Psych 302,” he says right away. “And the two criminal justice courses I took this fall. Look, common sense is something you don't have right now, because you're way too emotionally invested, which is why you need to take it slow. Don't do anything crazy.”

“Were Mom and Dad upset that I left early?” I need a change of topics before my head explodes, and Eve's radio silence is what drove me to come back to New York before New Year's, when I had originally planned to return.

“Nah, they're cool with it.”

“Oh come on, don't bullshit me. I left before Christmas dinner. Mom's obsessed with Christmas dinner.”

“Jared told them about Elana and Eve,” Brad says. “They needed to know, and you can be pissed off if you want, but it was stupid not to tell them.”

I should be furious, but after everything that happened at home the past few days, I trust Jared. “How'd they take it?”

Brad cracks up. “I think Dad's secretly relieved that you're not gay.”

This gets me to laugh again. I totally called that one. “And Katie?”

“She knew something was up when you left early, but Jared just told her not to believe everything she reads online.”

“Thanks, Brad, seriously. I think I was on the verge of doing something really stupid.”

“And don't get me wrong,” Brad adds. “I didn't say you shouldn't ever consider killing that fucker. Just say the word, and Jared and I will be there to back you up. You gotta plan that shit, you know? Cover your tracks, remove the forensic evidence…”

Now
that
sounds like my brother. “I'll keep that in mind.”

After I get off the phone with Brad, I take a quick shower, reluctantly washing off the scent of Eve still lingering on my skin—her fruity lotion, her Chapstick. It felt so good to be that close to her again, but Brad's right. It was a bad idea. I need to prove to her that I'm not Wes Danes. That I'm here in whatever form she wants me to be.

Before I fall asleep, I set my alarm to wake me up in a couple of hours so that I can get this damn breakup over with as soon as possible.

December 26, 8:30 a.m.

I'm tapping my fingers on the cold surface of the desk. My legs are shaking and my eyes are glued to the open door, waiting for Wes to appear. It's exactly eight thirty and he's never late. Ever.

I don't know what Alex did after he left last night. I hope he was too shocked and too disappointed and overwhelmed to do anything. But the way he looked at me last night, like he was willing to take this big giant leap regardless of the consequences, makes me think a confrontation is possible. As in he might have shown up at Wes's place at three in the morning to… to what? I don't really know.

Before my cell phone turns to eight thirty-one, I spot Wes coming down the hall, his peacoat and scarf perfectly in place, dress shoes shiny, and dark jeans carefully broken in. He grins when he sees me, showing no signs of having had an intense middle-of-the-night visit from Alex Evans. I hold my breath as he sets his leather bag on the desk and takes the seat across from me. I've already gotten coffee for both of us from the shop down the street.

He lifts his cup and takes a sip. “Thanks, Evie.”

“So I just wanted to say”—I take a deep breath, forcing out the anxious and desperate vibe from my voice—“I wanted to say thanks for everything you've done for me so far.”

He meets my gaze intently. He slowly removes a folder from his briefcase, spreading several photos out across the table. “These are your new portfolio pictures. I'd say they turned out pretty amazing.”

My gaze travels from Wes to the pictures lying on the table. Wes arranged this shoot, and I haven't even signed with the agency yet. He probably paid for it out of his own pocket, which is why all the pictures are natural, no wild clothes or extravagant hair and makeup.

My face looks hollow and my arms way too skinny. I can't believe I've become this. I mean, the pictures are amazing, don't get me wrong, but knowing what it took to get me to look that thin, I feel like the world's biggest sellout. I know for a fact there are plenty of female models who can eat normally and still look like that on their own, but I've had to take extreme measures to fit this mold, and my immune system is shot. I'm weak and fatigued. I'm not exercising as much as I used to for fear of the muscle showing too much.

“I sent these out to some of my contacts,” Wes says. “An editor at
Cosmo
said you look amazing and she loved the concept, having you look natural and stripped bare, like a fresh start.”

“Right,” I say bitterly. “After my time in the crack den and then rehab.”

“Everyone loves a good comeback story.” Wes shrugs. “Having said that, I've confirmed a gig with
Cosmo
and a few other jobs, but first—”

“I need to sign with the agency,” I say, relieved that we are getting to this today like I'd hoped. The money has got to start coming in soon if I want to have enough to cover next year's tuition. Maybe I can work like crazy this summer too, when I won't have classes.
And won't be in Paris
, I can't help thinking. I wanted that scholarship as much for the educational opportunity this summer as I did for the tuition money.

I spend nearly an hour down the hall with an intern, filling out paperwork before I'm allowed to return to Wes's office. I peek in his door to make sure he's not in another meeting before sitting across from him again. “So,
Co
smo, huh?”

He nods. “Yes. It's a very grown-up job. Think you can handle it?”

“I'll be fine.”

“Good. In that case, you're all set.”

Wes retrieves my coat from the back of his office door and holds it out for me to put my arms through. When I do, he turns me around and we're practically nose to nose. My heart is already speeding up. His eyes are so intense and full of emotion. I search my thoughts for something to say that will lead to my polite departure.

“Thanks again, Wes,” I mumble. “I really appreciate you helping with the photos and all.”

He sucks in a breath. “As much as it goes against my nature to admit this,” he says, “there's not much that I wouldn't do for you, Evie. Sometimes I wish that weren't true.”

Sometimes
I
wish
I
could
100 percent stop l
oving you.

I close my eyes and think about Alex last night, what he almost said to me. I had to stop him because those words are so powerful in a way that's scary and dangerous, and I knew if he'd said it, I would have lost all my resolve to take the logical path.

“You and Alex,” Wes says finally. “It's over, right?”

A huge pain moves through my chest and stomach as I force myself to say the words out loud. “Yeah. It's over.” I ended it by screaming at him to leave. The scene was so familiar to me in a way that made it easy to get rid of him. Now, I'm struggling with the aftermath.

Wes's hands are on my arms and he leans forward, barely pressing his mouth to mine. He pulls away before I can stop him or even process it, but tears spring to my eyes anyway.

This isn't the man I want close to me. For the longest time, especially in the six great weeks I had with Alex, I think secretly I thought that guys like Alex—boyish, fun, and never too serious—would be the only ones I'd ever be brave enough to date after being with Wes, a very self-reliant man. But last night, when Alex showed up, looking like he'd spent forever coming up with a plan and a solution and the certainty on his face, in his words—he was a man.

And I'm afraid of that particular man for completely different reasons.

Wes releases me and steps back, his eyes moving up and down my body. “Someone like him could never be right for you, Evie. You need a strong guy who can handle your ups and downs, be straight with you. He's lost without an adviser, and sometimes you are too. It would have never worked.”

I bite back the words and the tears, reminding myself that I need to be on Wes's good side. “Probably not.”

Wes opens the door for me and tells me to call him if I want to get together or talk. I walk away as quickly as possible, not able to breathe until I'm hit with the late December air.

Truth is, Wes is probably right about one thing. Alex and I wouldn't have worked. Alex deserves stability and sanity and someone who will allow him to take that leap of faith and say
I
love
you
. Somewhere there's a girl who's about to give up on the idea of love. Maybe she's been burned a few times, or maybe she's intelligent and can't seem to meet any guys who can hold a decent conversation. She's okay with who she is but somewhat unconvinced that there's a soul mate for her. And just when she's decided being single is perfectly fine, she'll be on the subway or in Starbucks getting a latte on a Sunday morning when she has time to actually notice the world around her and Alex Evans will pick up the wallet or cell phone she drops and hand it to her. Their eyes will meet; he'll look familiar to her, so she'll say, “Where do I know you from?”

And he'll give her one of his classic sheepish grins and say, “Probably that big billboard in Times Square, the guy wearing the…uh…half-pair of neon micro-polka-dot underwear.” And after a reveal like that, who wouldn't want to ask this guy some more questions and then maybe sit down at a table and talk about climbing walls and running 5K races, because after all, it is Sunday and she doesn't have anything better to do and neither does he. At first she'll expect shallowness but be both surprised and intrigued by Alex's self-deprecating humor and under-the-surface humility. And then the carefully concealed intelligence will emerge on Alex's end when she mentions her art history class. Alex will describe seeing the painting up close in Paris last summer. He'll crack a joke about how it looks like children got into their mother's makeup, but she won't be fooled. She'll see that he saw more to it than that but doesn't feel the need to show off. The rest is just a beautiful success story to be told many, many times over at friends' houses, and possibly their wedding.

Alex Evans deserves nothing less than a perfect moment like that. With my million pounds of baggage, I can't give him that.