On the Outside Looking In (Wrong Reasons) (12 page)

I stopped, rag hanging from my fingers.  “I did what?”

“You’re the one who texted me,” he said, maddening smile on his lips.

“I texted you once,” I said, free hand on hip.  “You texted and called me several times.”

He moved down the counter, leaning over to whisper to me. “It was a test.”

“A test?”

“Yep,” he nodded.  “And you passed.”

“I’m thrilled,” I said as I resumed my cleaning.  Once I finished the counter, I began to dismantle some of the equipment to soak in the sink.  “I didn’t even study.”

“That means that you’re a genius,” he said.  “You’re a scholar.”

“Oh, boy.”

“You’re an expert on Evan.”

“That’ll look great on my resume.”

He laughed, loudly, at that. He scooted down the counter to the end.  “How long will it take you to finish?”

“Not long,” I said, scrubbing the parts in the sink.  After rinsing them, I left them on a towel to dry.  The opening person was responsible for putting it back together – thankfully.

“Good,” he said as he leafed through the day’s paper that someone had left behind.  “We have plans.”

“Plans?” I asked, only half-listening.

“Yep.
  We’re going out.”

“You do realize that it’s sort of late, right?” I reminded him.  “And I have class tomorrow?”

“So,” he said.  “We aren’t going out on a full date.  This is a little date.”

“I don’t even want to know,” I said as I finished the front end cleaning. “I’ll be right back.”

Leaving him alone, I went into the back to double check that everything was done.  Every area was stocked and all the surfaces clean.  I consulted the laminated check list on the wall (even though I knew it by heart) and made sure that I’d completed each task.  Only then did I remove my apron and hang it on a hook, collecting my purse and coat from my cubby. Returning to the front, I walked around the counter and stood in front of Evan.

“Finished.
  Let’s get this little date over with – I have to get up early.” 

“Excellent,” he said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door, pausing long enough for me to lock it and set the alarm.

He had the junky truck again and opened the passenger door for me.  I climbed inside, not so bothered by the filth this time, and waited for him to get in and crank the heat.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“For coffee,” he said as he started the engine.

I opened my mouth to remind him that we’d just left a coffee shop, but decided against it.  It was no use, anyway.  The tiny smile curling his lips led me to believe that he was very much aware of my thoughts.

He took me to a grimy diner on the other side of town.  The place was pretty much deserted except for a few coeds drinking coffee while reading articles on their tablets.

We slid into the booth, ordered coffee and pie, and then stared at each other while we waited.

“The coffee isn’t the greatest, but the pie is good,” he said as the waitress headed our way.  Setting our pie in front of us, she filled our coffee cups and departed, leaving us to converse.

“So, thanks for apologizing to me,” he said as he cut a chunk off of his pie with the side of his fork.  “But, like I said earlier, it wasn’t necessary.  And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Waving my fork in the air, I forced a smile.  “We said what we had to say at Beans – let’s just let it go, okay?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he said.  “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry I messed up.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your Thanksgiving?” I suggested.

“It was boring,” he said. 
“Food and football.  And lots of beer.  My aunt and uncle were there and just a few friends.”

“No other family?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said.  “There is no other family.  Susie’s folks passed a long time ago.  She has a sister she doesn’t talk to much in Washington, but that’s it.  My uncle was an only child and his parents are gone, too.”

Nodding, it took me a few minutes to realize what he’d said.  “Your uncle is an only child?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes trained on mine.  “That’s right.”

“So, you’re blood related to your aunt?” I asked.

He shook his head, no trace of a smile or amusement anywhere on his face.

“I’m confused,” I said, slowly.  “How are they your aunt and uncle then?”

He finished his pie, took a sip of his coffee, and then sat back on his side of the booth.  “Let’s go back to my place and have a beer.  Want to?”

Not sure what I was agreeing to, I signaled to the waitress for our check.

Chapter Twelve

The heat in the old truck barely worked.  Although Evan had it on high, the air chugged and gurgled as it blew lukewarm from the vents.  I folded into my coat, my gloved hands buried in my pockets and my face hidden by my scarf.  Evan, however, didn’t seem bothered by the cold as he drove with only a leather jacket.

“Don’t you have an apartment over the garage?” I said through my scarf.

“I do have a place over the garage,” he said as he turned left, heading for the outskirts of town.

“Wait, you’re going the wrong way,” I said.  “The garage is downtown.”

“I meant the garage at my aunt and uncle’s place.  I moved. We’ve been working on this apartment for a while now and finally finished over the weekend.”

Burrowing further into my jacket, I watched the road as he drove, wondering how far out he lived.  That wasn’t the only thing going through my head, though.  I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he’d just said at the diner.  How could they could be his aunt and uncle … was the sister in Washington his mother?  Maybe his father was an ex-husband of the sister in Washington or something.  Whatever it was, I hoped he’d explain it all to me once we were warmly settled in his apartment.

He finally pulled into a long drive lined with barren trees.  The house was dark – only one light in a living room window – and it loomed before us.  It was a two story – or maybe a Cape Cod – with an attached garage.  Above the garage was an apartment with a large window facing the drive.

He parked off to the side of the garage and killed the engine.  I gratefully climbed out of the truck and waited for him to show me to a set of stairs similar to the one that led to my own apartment.

“It’s small and probably messy,” he said as he unlocked the door and flipped a switch. “I’m not totally organized yet.”

It was small – a studio-type place – with a kitchenette, living room, and bath.

“The sofa pulls out,” he explained as he turned on a table lamp and indicated that I should sit.  “It’s far more comfortable than you would think.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said.

In the corner was a wobbly stand holding a large, flat screen, tangled cords and a video gaming system on the bottom shelf.  The kitchenette had no table, just a stove, fridge, microwave and sink.  There were only four cabinets but it didn’t look like he used the area much.

“It’s cozy,” I said, my eyes falling to the empty beer bottles on the chipped coffee table.

“It’s okay for now,” he said.

“Where did you live before?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “I was in Chicago for a while until my uncle called me, asking if I’d come back to work in the garage.  He was in need of help and couldn’t find a qualified mechanic.  I came back.”

“Okay, explain to me how he is your uncle,” I said as I
unwrapped my scarf and removed my coat.  “I’m so confused.”

“Yeah, I imagine you are,” he said as he opened the refrigerator and removed two bottles of beer.  He opened them, tossing both caps into the overflowing trash can, and brought them to the sofa, handing one to me before sitting down.  “They’re not my blood relatives.”

Nodding, I sipped the beer.  I wasn’t much of a beer drinker but this brand wasn’t so bad.  Maybe I was just eager to hear the story and didn’t much care what it tasted like.

“My mom was an addict and a dealer.  She ran around with a wild crowd and got mixed up in a prostitute’s death.  She didn’t kill her – but she was there.  The details aren’t exactly clear.  Anyway, she went to prison when I was a kid,” he said.  “I never knew my dad – don’t even
know if my mom knew who he was. I didn’t have any family that anyone could find so I was taken to a children’s home.”

My eyes grew but I kept my mouth shut.  I didn’t want to distract him from his story.

“I was in and out of foster homes for a long time,” he continued.  “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.  Some of them were better than others, of course, but I was never abused or anything.”

He lifted his beer to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a long drink.

“Susan and Greg took me in when I was ten.  They were living in Chicago at the time, but when I turned thirteen, we moved here when Greg bought the garage off of an old family friend.”

“You’ve been with them for a long time,” I said, my voice slightly scratchy from not being used.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling as he leaned back and stretched an arm on the back of the couch behind me.  “They were good to me.  They loved me like I was their own.”

Many questions swirled in my mind but I only managed to pluck out two. 
“Why do you call them aunt and uncle?  Why didn’t they adopt you?”

“We talked about adoption a few times,” he said with a wistful smile.  “I was still a kid and naïve as hell.  I loved them, don’t get me wrong, but I kept thinking that my mom wouldn’t be able to find me when she got out if I was adopted. My dad, either, even though he probably didn’t even know I existed.”

“But, you didn’t know your dad,” I said.

“No, never.
  I didn’t even know his name,” he said.  “But, like I said, I was a kid.  I was just a little boy.  For as long as I could remember, I fantasized about my dad, imagining him strolling into my life, ready to play catch or teach me about football.”

I smiled at that image while inside, my heart was breaking.

“It never happened, of course, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about it,” he said.  “So, when Susan and Greg asked me if I’d like to be adopted, I told them how I felt.  It wasn’t just about my parents not being able to find me – it had a little to do with not wanting to betray my mother.  She’d never been great parenting material, but I loved her desperately. Greg and Susan knew that. Not once did they ever discourage me.  I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it worked for us.  That’s when Susan suggested that I call them Aunt and Uncle.  I liked that.  It felt like a real family and I was able to hang on to the dreams of my parents.  As I grew older, I gave up on all of that and sort of ‘adopted’ Susan and Greg as my real family.”

I inched closer and he dropped his arm around my shoulders.  “That’s a nice story.”

He snorted.  “It’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”

I looked into his beautiful dark eyes. 
“Not at all.”

His eyes remained on mine as he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.  My lids fluttered shut as he increased pressure, his tongue prying my lips open.  Gasping, I clenched his shirt in my fist, wanting him closer.  He obliged as his kisses heated up and my heart tumbled around my stomach.

“Morgan,” he groaned into my mouth, his hand working its way under my sweater, his fingers caressing my stomach.  Things were moving fast – faster than I could have imagined – but I didn’t want it to stop.  Never before had I experienced something so pleasant and so…exhilarating.

“Morgan,” he said as he withdrew his hand and, leaning back, placed it on my cheek.  “We need to slow down a little.”

Blinking, I stared at him, the spinning top in my head slowing, slowing, slowing.  When it stopped, the fog in my brain began to lift.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, my breath still a little harsh.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“Not that I want to,” he said, leaning into me to kiss my cheek.  “But, you’re the type of girl that guys don’t rush.  I don’t want to screw this up.  I’m notorious for that sort of thing.”

I smiled, not entirely sure what he was saying.  My mind was replaying our short make out session for my viewing pleasure.

“Why don’t I take you home?” he said as he stood and helped me to my feet.  “You have class tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

He pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.  “Call me when you’re done.  We can grab some dinner or something.”

“Okay,” I said as put on my coat.  He laced his fingers through mine and led me to the door.

***

Life became more colorful for me.  Everywhere I looked, I found beauty and vibrancy, no matter the subject. A smile became fixed upon my face and a spring bounced my every step.  I was happy – really happy.

Dante was the first to notice the change.  He didn’t comment on it but the grins, smirks, and knowing glances gave him away.  I’d always liked my job well enough but after my revealing evening with Evan, I began to love it.

Classes were better, too.  My concentration wasn’t what it should have been as I often found myself thinking about Evan, but I participated more and even chatted with classmates.

Each night, after classes or shifts at Beans, found Evan and I curled together on my sofa, watching movies or mindless TV, as we shared kisses and conversation.

“You know all about my family,” he said one night, a few days after the evening at his apartment.  “Tell me about yours.”

“Not much to tell,” I said.  “My dad works nonstop and my mom stays home, playing the good housewife, attending charity functions and serving on Boards for different clubs.”

“That’s not telling me much,” he said as he held me close to his side.  “What are they like?”

I scoffed at the question.  “My dad believes that I should focus on my future – he wants me to be an academic at a prestigious university.  He thinks any career in art or photography is a waste.  He believes that photography should be a hobby.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh.  “My mother, on the other hand, thinks I waste too much time worrying about a career.  She believes that I should be learning how to cook and entertain while searching for a suitable man to marry.”

“You’re joking,” he laughed.  “I mean, who thinks that way anymore?”

“I kid you not,” I said.  “My grandmother is the same way.  My mother came from money and married into money just like my grandmother and her grandmother.”

“Wow,” he said.  “Just…wow.  I mean, I’ve heard of that before, but I thought that sort of thinking died out in the sixties.”

“For most people,” I said.

“Are you an only child?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “That’s what makes it so hard.  They argue all the time about what my role in life should be.  When I moved out of the dorms, my father was thrilled.  He pays my rent and utilities, but he insisted that I get a job for other things.  He wants me to learn about life, but not worry about it yet.”

“Ah, I get it,” he said.  “He wants you to focus on school but still manage your household.  But, he doesn’t want you working too much so he sends a little cash your way.”

“Something like that, yeah,” I said.  “I do have a Trust Fund, but I can’t access it for a few months yet – not until I’m twenty-one.”

“Cool,” he said, squeezing my shoulders.  “I got a sugar mama. 
A Trust Fund baby!”

“Please,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “I’m not loaded or anything.”

He shrugged.  “Not like it matters to me, but I sort of figured your family was doing well.  Most people who attend Dunne-Browling come from that sort of family.”

“There are scholarships,” I said.  “Some students are here on scholarships or grants.”

“I know,” he said.  “My uncle wanted me to apply for a scholarship but I wasn’t interested.  I chose the technical route.  I wasn’t meant for academia.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said.  “A good mechanic is hard to find – that’s what my father says, anyway.”

Laughing, he tugged me to his chest, his lips on mine.  I melted into him, twining my fingers in his lush hair.  Moments like these made me forget my name and where I was. I loved it.

Sliding down, I tugged him with me until he was lying on top.  I felt his grin on my lips as he continued to kiss me senseless.

I’d always prided myself on being a virgin – I’d never wanted to have sex just to have sex – but in moments such as these, I longed to be a bit more experienced.

“Morgan,” he
whispered, his lips still on mine.  “One of these days we’re going to take this too far.”

“I know,” I said, sighing.

His lips moved to my check, trailing down to the spot behind my ear.  I shuddered as I clung to him, wishing to stay the way we were forever.

“I’m not sure if you’re ready for that,” he mumbled against my skin as his lips continued their trek down my neck.

Shivering, I arched into him.  “I’ll be ready.”

He chuckled as he pulled slightly away from me.  “I’m in no hurry.”

“Maybe I am,” I said as I yanked him back down.

His laughter brushed against my cheek.  He kissed me once more – a quick peck to the lips, and sat up, leaving me cold and wanting.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

Running his hands through his hair, he gave me a pained smile.  “We keep getting all caught up in the moment.”

“So?”

“So,” he said.  “I don’t want to get going and not be able to stop.”

As the fugue left my brain, his words began to make sense.  “You’re absolutely right.  I really like you, Evan, but I think you’re right about not rushing it.”

“See?” he said, running the back of his hand across my cheek.  “We’re on the same page.  That’s good.”