Love Exactly (10 page)

“I want to know who
she
is then,” the doubtful girl said, loud enough for me to hear, and I swore it was on purpose.

Evan sat back up, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You think I should just sign their arms or something?”

“Do you have a permanent marker hidden in your pants or something?” I asked, and his expression caused me to burst out laughing, pointing my finger at him as I warned, “Don’t you dare answer that.”

“Well, what are we going to do about the giggle twins?” Evan asked.

I winked at him and stood, walking down the three bleachers and one across to them. The looks on their faces as I approached were priceless.

I smiled down at them before holding my hand out to introduce myself, “My name is Emma. I work for the local paper. I was wondering if you might answer a few questions for me?”

The doubtful one swallowed before taking my hand and answering, “Um…Martha…sure. Uh, this is my friend Amy.”

“Right, nice to meet you two. Can I get a quick picture in case I need it for the article?” I asked and they obliged.

“So you work for the paper?” Amy asked.

I nodded. “Who’s your favorite player on the team?”

“Aaron Peterson—the forward,” Amy explained, pointing to a tall, lanky boy with blue eyes and a mop of hair.

“Brian Forest,” Martha answered, but her eyes were still on Evan. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Speaking of boyfriends…”Amy began, but Martha was quick to elbow her into silence.

“You noticed mine?” I inferred with a smirk.

Amy shrugged.

Martha’s mouth dropped. “So he’s
your
boyfriend?”

I gave them a puzzled look. “Why else would he be kissing me and attending a high school basketball game?”

Emma pouted before she admitted what she was thinking. “He kind of looks like someone famous.”

“Does he now?”

Martha elbowed Amy again and she reacted by rubbing her rib cage. “That’s going to leave a bruise,” she hissed.

They both began to pale, and I felt Evan behind me. His hand wrapped around my waist and he put his thumb through my belt loop.

“I was getting bored by myself,” he explained.

“You…you…” Amy began to stutter.

“The girls here were just telling me about their favorite players. Martha’s,” I explained pointing at her, “boyfriend is on the team, and they were just saying how you look like someone famous.”

“Interesting,” Evan remarked, and his trademark crooked smile came over his thin lips. The girls swooned, and I tried to stifle my laughter.

“Who?” I asked the girls.

“Evan Levesque.”

“What a coincidence,” I replied. “So anyways, who do you think will win tonight?”

Amy’s face was scrounged in confusion.

“Our team, of course.”

“Funny,” I commented, “Evan and I are rooting for the exact opposite.”

The girl’s mouths dropped.

“Well, enjoy the game,” I said as we turned up the bleachers.

“That was cruel,” Evan commented, but I could hear the undertone of his laughter beneath his breath.

“It was harmless…plus now they can say they met Evan Levesque and his overly ordinary girlfriend.”

“You never said I was Evan Levesque,” he reminded me as we took our seats and he handed me my drink again.

“That’s true.”

“That should drive them even more nuts.”

“I think I scared them straight,” I said, nodding to where they were now quiet as they whispered with their heads together.

“You’re quite clever.” Evan took my power drink and rolled it between his hands. “Very clever indeed.”

“My theory was most girls that meet you are stunned into silence.”

Evan nodded, his chin jutting out in thought. “What made you talk?”

“Lack of coffee,” I answered, and we both laughed.

It was apparent Eric didn’t think anyone should have fun at basketball games; because he had coughed loud enough that we had both stopped and turned to look at him. Eric saw Evan’s face and turned back to the game. I watched as his muscles tightened under the thin, too-tight, white button-up he was wearing.

“Can I throttle him now?” Evan growled through clenched teeth.

“Later…only if he gives us a reason.”

“He already gave me a reason five years ago.”

We finished the game in silence, but I managed to snap a few nice action shots, even catching the winning basket shot.

The crowds ran out from the bleachers as the last buzzer rang, so Evan and I were the only people left there. Eric took the pats on the shoulder and with each one his arrogant smile grew, spreading over his ferret-like face. I watched as the players streamed off the floor into the locker room. I knew what was coming soon enough, and I could feel the layer of cold sweat building on my skin.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I managed to stutter out after five minutes of waiting in silence. “I can’t talk to him. He’s still the same—I can see it in his eyes—in his presence.”

Evan stood and held his hand out to me. “I guess I won’t be beating anyone up tonight.”

I shook my head and let him lead me down the rows and onto the gym floor. We were half-way to the door when I heard the shoes on the floor.

“Don’t you need to interview the coach?” Eric called out at our backs.

I stopped in my tracks and stared up at Evan. I knew the panic was all over my face. He squeezed my hand and we turned to face him as he came up behind us.

“Sure,” I said, and I was proud to say my voice came out strong. “My name is Emma and this is my boyfriend, Evan. I work for the local paper, as I’m sure you know by your question.”

“I know who you are,” Eric answered with his eyebrows raised in a tease.

I felt Evan’s muscles tense next to me.

“Right,” I said.

“Old friends you and I, mhmm?” Eric said as he cocked his head at me. “Although, I’d say we were more than that.”

“Mr. Silverstein, I’m here to report on the game,” I clarified.

“It sure is hot in here, why don’t we do this outside?” Evan suggested, and my head shot up to look at his reddening face.

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Eric agreed, but I couldn’t understand why with Evan towering over him.

When we were outside and out of earshot and view of the team Eric smiled at me.

“Boy, your tastes have changed, now haven’t they Em?” he taunted.

“Really you want to go there?” Evan growled at him.

I put my arm up to block him.

“I was just acknowledging something very obvious,” he continued, his egotism spewing off of him as he signaled with his hands to Evan and himself.

“Yeah, I found someone who didn’t enjoy beating the shit out of me,” I hissed with my eyes narrowed.

Eric’s eyebrows rose in unison again and a smirk spread over his face.

“Really? I thought you liked it,” Eric said just as Evan’s fist connected with his eye.

Evan’s leg struck out, kicking Eric in the stomach before he could react and he fell against the ground.

“STOP!” I yelled.

The adrenaline of seeing Eric as I had once been scared me, because inside I felt a sick enjoyment from it. What scared me even more was the fact Evan was who he was, and he was beating up some no name piece of crap. Eric struggled back to a standing position, but Evan was quick to pin him to the brick wall.

“You want me to stop?” Evan’s fist was drawn back ready to blacken the other eye. “I know what the hell he did to you!”

I looked back at Eric’s reddening face as Evan’s hand pushed against his throat, closing his windpipe. I took a deep breath knowing the fear in his eyes was something I had dreamed about many times. It was wrong, though, just like it was wrong for him to have done what he did to me.

“He’s not worth it,” I finally managed to say.

Evan closed his eyes and shook his head as I pushed his arm down. He took a deep breath and turned back to Eric.

“Do you realize what a piece of shit you are?” he asked, releasing his throat so he could breathe easier.

Eric saw the weakness showing in his eyes and gasped out, “You don’t know how much of a bitch she is yet.”

“Really?” Evan’s vein in his neck was pulsing as he contained his rage. I could see in his eyes that he was ready to pummel Eric into the ground. He let go of his neck and grabbed the front of Eric’s head before slamming his head back against the wall.

“Let me remind you that
you
assaulted
her
,” Evan said as Eric crumbled to his knees on the ground.

Eric’s eyes looked up and instead of finding Evan, they found me. The look was supposed to send me groveling; to send me into the nightmare of my past when he used to look at me like that. It was supposed to put me in my place, make the threat disappear, but it didn’t—it gave me the strength to do what I should have done years before.  When I marched up to him and knelt down so I was at eye level with him, he stayed put because his world was still spinning from Evan’s fist and a general lack of air. He pressed his head against the brick, face slick with sweat, and eyes filled with that venom that used to immobilize me. Then I did it; I raised my hand and sent it across his face, leaving it pulsating red.

“Keep your mouth shut and I’ll do the same, got it?” I hissed, feeling Evan’s hand on my shoulder.

Eric nodded, and I let Evan pull me up into his arms before walking in the opposite direction. With each step away from the man who had tried to destroy me I realized I didn’t have to let it consume me any longer. I could let go. I wouldn’t let it destroy me anymore.

Evan didn’t say anything as he slid into the black Audi and let the engine roar to life, but instead of putting the car into gear he pressed his forearms against the steering wheel and ducked his head down against the cool leather.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I should’ve controlled myself. I shouldn’t have approached him.” He looked up saying, “I just saw the look in your eyes…the panic and I forgot everything. I knew who he was and I wanted to make him pay. Believe me I know it was stupid, especially with who I am. The last thing I need is a suit slapped on me by my girlfriend’s psychotic ex-boyfriend. Can you imagine the media spin on that one?”

I stifled a laugh. “I don’t think he realized who you are, or would even think I could ever be with someone like you.”

His head shot up at the words. “You don’t feel that way, right?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking down at my silver French manicure.

“That you shouldn’t be with someone like me? The only difference between me and some other person is my money.”

“And massive amount of talent…and women who would die to be with you—but no. I don’t feel like that. I just know how he thinks.”

Evan narrowed his eyes at me. “Why the pause before? I’m sure you knew what I meant.”

I nodded. “I just realize how lucky I am to have you, but not because you’re famous…because of who you are as a person.”

He pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I’m just as lucky to have you.”

We sat there for a moment, saying nothing, breathing in each other and the intensity of what had happened. I pulled away from him and took a deep breath.

“I’m proud of who I am and what I’ve done despite of him. I won’t let him take that away from me now. I’m going to write—really write.”

The coy, half-smile that melted me crept across his face and he pulled me into a passionate kiss that left me lightheaded.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as his lips found my earlobe and then trailed down my neck to my collarbone.

Two days after Eric met Evan’s fist I was called into corporate. It was rare that I was ever called in about anything; in fact I had only been there a handful of times since I had worked for the paper. I was one of the few writers who chose to solely work from home. There were some that did it off and on, but they often kept cubicles here for those times when they couldn’t get away from say, the husband or the kids, and really needed to get work done. I was glad I didn’t have that problem as I strolled down the dank rows of cubicles, where most everyone was giving a blank stare to their computer screens. Mike looked up from his, smiled and gave a little wave.

“Long time no see. It’s Emma, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you remember me so well after bailing out on meeting the special celebrity they had lined up,” I replied, leaning over the half-wall of his cube.

He sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow over his thick glasses. “Doll, I heard you didn’t meet the celeb either!”

I smirked at him. “Or I just didn’t tell anyone about it.”

He leaned forward, his attention focused on me. “So it’s true then? You’re dating someone famous?”

I blinked at him twice as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that what I thought was going on, indeed was. “Where did you hear that?”

“Some chick’s mom at one of the basketball games came strutting in here having a hissy fit about you making out with your boyfriend…who she thought looked eerily like Evan Levesque.”

“Uh, what?!” I snapped, and I could feel the blood rushing out of my face.

Mike waved a hand as if it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it, no one believed her. Everyone thinks you’re some crazy hot cat lady.”

“Crazy hot cat lady?” I repeated with narrow eyes and he blushed.

“I said that out loud?”

I nodded once, and he gave an awkward ‘oh, shit’ smile.

“Hopefully, you’re not here because of the crazy make-out session with the BF,” he managed to cough out to try to distract me.

“Cat lady? Really? I hate cats.”

“There was a crazy hot in front of it,” Mike added.

“There could be a crazy sexual harassment case, too,” I retorted and watched as he shrunk in his chair.

“Seriously, so sorry Emma. I was just trying to ease the tension,” he answered with a look of fear.

I looked at the ceiling before returning my eyes to his. “Just tell them I hate cats, and tell the mom’s to stay out of my love life.”

Mike nodded in a quick, spastic motion. “Yeah, will do.”

I walked away shaking my head and praying I’d never have to go on another assignment with him again. When I reached my boss’ office he was on the phone and signaled me to sit down. He finished his conversation, which apparently was what he was ordering for lunch and then put both hands on his desk in front of him, his lips pursed.

“How have you been Emma?” he asked.

“Fine, thanks,” I replied. “You Greg?”

“Well, thank you. So, the reason I called you in,” he paused for some sort of effect, and I nodded at him to continue. He frowned before doing so. “Your articles on music are great, but the ones we have you doing most often are sports. I’m just curious; do you have more interest in music than sports?”

I tried not to look disrespectful as I blinked at him. “Yeah, a little bit.”

He leaned forward with a smile. “I was just wondering why that is?”

I shook my head at him. “I’m just not much of a sports person?”

“Is that all?”

I scooted my chair back. “Are you trying to insinuate something, because I really feel like I’m missing something here?”

He frowned at me. “I was just trying to see if you would be more interested in doing some sort of column on the local music scene. I’d also be looking for reviews on the hottest new music as well.”

“Really?”

He nodded, but his face still seemed displeased.

“I’d quite enjoy that.”

“It will be a weekly column, so we might have you doing some sports events as well, but Mike seems to be better at those. His reporting on the music festival was…interesting.”

I coughed to cover my laugh. “He quite enjoyed the funnel cakes.”

Greg shook his head. “He did write mostly about the food, but I suppose it supplemented your article nicely in that regard.”

“Was there anything else?”

He took a deep breath and cringed a bit. “There was a little situation I needed to talk to you about.”

“The angry sports mom?” I inferred.

His nose twitched. “Yes, that was another reason we thought music would be a bit better than the high schools for you. That and the, umm…insinuation that you are distracting in other ways.”

I pulled my v-neck shirt up a little bit.

“I see,” I muttered.

He scratched his bald head in the awkward silence. “We don’t have a dress code for you guys…gals…I mean, you can’t help that you’re…okay, I’m not going to come out and say it. We’ve addressed it either way.”

“Thanks?”

“Do you know Eric Silverstein?”

My breath caught in my throat. “Why?”

He shrugged. “He’s the head coach for the basketball team at the GEA. He ended up with a black eye last week after the game. I was wondering if you might know him because you graduated the same year. I thought you might have an in to get some information about it?”

I tried to tell myself not to panic. “I don’t communicate with anyone from high school anymore.”

“No friends on Facebook?”

“I don’t have one.”

“I see…so you don’t know anything about it?”

“I didn’t get an interview with him.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. You usually get interviews for these sorts of things, so I thought it was strange,” he replied as he leaned back in his chair, his hands forming a triangle in front of his large frame.

“I got the interviews with the two young ladies in the audience, was that not okay?” I asked, but my voice cracked at the end in my nervousness.

“Oh, no it’s fine. I just thought it was odd, was all. I was trying to do a little investigating—it’s never a good thing when a coach shows up after a game with a big black eye. I was wondering if he got in a little fight with the other coach,” Greg explained, and the accusation I expected wasn’t there.

“I’m not sure. He had a hot temper when we were in high school, so I guess he could have.”

“Interesting,” he replied. “So anyways, I’ll want the first column ready for next week, and don’t be afraid to use any connections you have in the music business.”

There it was. I nodded, but didn’t answer yes or no.

“Thanks. What’s my first assignment?”

Greg handed me a paper as I stood. “Here’s a list of CD’s we are going to need you to review. There’s also a list of shows to date to cover. There may be other things that come up, but you’ll get all your tickets for the events emailed with your press passes.”

“Sounds good,” I answered and headed out the door, glad to escape any more close calls.