On the Outside Looking In (Wrong Reasons) (15 page)

“Okay,” I said, even though I really didn’t want him to leave my side.  I did recognize a few people from campus, but they weren’t what I’d call ‘friends’, or maybe even acquaintances.  I wasn’t comfortable hanging out by myself.

As Evan cut through the crowd, I turned toward the kitchen.  The diet soda wasn’t cutting it tonight.  A drink sounded a bit appropriate at the moment.

The cluttered kitchen was littered with pizza boxes - some empty, some with a few slices – beer cans and booze bottles.  I considered my choices, studying each label, until I found a half-empty bottle of vodka.  Another search – this time of the refrigerator – yielded no cranberry juice.  Frustrated but not deterred, I snatched a carton of orange juice, dumping the contents into a glass.  I added some vodka – a brand I wasn’t familiar with – and swirled the glass to mix it.  I wasn’t about to dig through drawers to find a spoon.  Lifting it to my lips, I winced as the juice burned my throat with the unmistakable taste of vodka.  It was stronger than what I was used to but I didn’t want to dump it out.

Nursing my drink, I wandered back to the living room where the music was loud and thumping, several drunken bodies grinding and
twerking and doing other things to the beat.  I scanned the crowd and located Evan talking to a guy I didn’t know.  They were surrounded by intoxicated girls, twirling their hair and batting their eyelashes.  One girl, a petite brunette with rather large breasts, had the audacity to stroke Evan’s arm.  He ignored her at first until, to my utter joy; he shrugged her away, shifting his body out of her reach.

“Having fun, beautiful?”

Startled at the voice so close to my ear, I turned to find a guy I didn’t know leering in my face.  His brilliant blue eyes were somewhat mesmerizing, but his breath was sour and rather pungent.

“Yes, thank you,” I said as I inched away.  To my dismay, he followed.

“Do you want to dance?”

“No,” I said, quickly, glancing in Evan’s direction.  “Thanks, but I don’t like this music.”

Placing a hand on my arm, he clutched me, tugging me toward the kitchen.  “We can go to the basement.  They’re playing better music down there.  Come on.”

“No,” I said, firmly, as I tried to dislodge his hand.  “I’m here with someone.”

“But you’re standing here alone.”

“So,” I said, shaking my arm.  “He’s talking to someone.  Now let go of me.”

“Fine,” he said, releasing me.  He held up his hands, the contents of his plastic cup sloping over his fingers.  “Shit, don’t be such a bitch.”

“Don’t be such a jerk
,” I said.  “When a girl says no, she means it.”

“Get the fuck away from her.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was alarmed at the black hatred smearing Evan’s face.

“Dude,” the guy said, a snarky grin on his face.  “I was just talking to her.”

“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Evan said, stepping forward, his chest puffed out like some sort of beast attempting to intimidate its prey.  “Move it, buddy, or I’ll beat your ass.”

“Whatever,” the guy mumbled as he brushed past Evan, his drunken eyes already searching for his next victim.

“Are you all right?” Evan asked as he touched my cheek.

Instead of relief, anger scorched the back of my throat.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” he said, astounded that I’d ask such a thing.  “The guy was bugging you.  I made him back off.”

“I was handling it just fine,” I said.

“Morgan,” he said with a sigh.  “You don’t know how guys like that work…”

“Yes, I do,” I said.  “I’m not some vulnerable little woman that you need to rescue.  I can take care of myself.”

With another sigh, he ran his hands through his hair.  “Fine.  Fine.  Are you ready to go?”

Setting my glass on a little table, I nodded.  I was more than ready to go.
 

Chapter Fifteen

The ride home was quiet. Neither of us knew what to say.  The scene at the party wouldn’t leave my head and I felt horrible.  I understood that he was just trying to help me out, but I didn’t need it.  What I couldn’t understand was this uncontrollable male urge to fight off other males when they encroach his territory.  And by territory, I mean females. 

I refused to be some man’s ‘territory’.

Evan parked behind Beans but before I could get out of the truck, he grabbed my hand.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued.  “But see, I grew up seeing girls get used, manipulated – stuff like that.  It pissed me off then and it pisses me off now.”

“Okay, I get that,” I said.  “But that’s not how I grew up.  I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you do,” he said, patronizing me.  “But what if this guy would have done something, huh?  Put something in your drink or forced you somewhere?”

“First of all,” I said, my back growing rigid.  “I know better than to let someone I don’t know – or in some cases that I do know – make my drink.  I take care of my own drinks.”

He nodded, his lips pursed.

“And if the guy would have tried something with me, I would have fought him off, screamed, kicked, whatever.  And that’s when you can come to my rescue.”

Turning his head toward his window, he released a long breath.  “Okay, fine.”

I sat in my seat, wanting to run upstairs, yet wanting to stay with him.

He turned back quickly, still holding my hand.  “But you need to understand something.  I know we haven’t been seeing each other long, but I really like you.  I care about you.  And I guess I get a little jealous.  I don’t like seeing guys pawing all over you.”

“What about the girls pawing all over you?” I asked.

He snorted.  “That’s different.”

“How?” I asked.  “Because you’re the big, tough man?”

“Yeah,” he said, the humor gone from his eyes.  “Yes, because I can tell the chicks to stop and they do.  If they don’t, it’s not like they’re going to overpower me.”

Shaking my head, I removed my hand from his grip.  “I’m going inside.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said with a shrug.

I hopped out of the truck before either of us could utter another word.

***

The next morning, I couldn’t call Evan.  I wasn’t sure how I felt.  It wasn’t just the little scene at the party – I was pretty much over that.  It was a combination of a few other things.  Maybe I just needed a day for myself.

Having decided to do just that, I texted him, telling him that I wanted to spend the day studying and catching up on coursework.
  His reply was short and to the point – a simple okay.

But no amount of studying could take my mind off of the gray, despondent cloud that had settled over my heart.  What was wrong with me?

Sometime during the night, snow had fallen, leaving a light, white blanket over the ground.  Grabbing my camera, I jumped in my car and drove out to rural roads, stopping every once in a while to snap a photo of an old barn, its dilapidated roof covered with snow, or a small herd of does, trudging through a barren corn field.

Climbing through the muck and pausing to focus my lens on something beautiful brought some much needed peace to my heart and my mind.  It’s what I loved and even if the pictures turned out like crap, it didn’t matter.

Shortly after lunchtime, I returned home and jumped in the shower, warming up my cold limbs.  I dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt before opening a can of soup and heating it on the stove.  I stirred listlessly as my mind wandered, plucking through ideas of what to do with the rest of my day.  I just wished that Irelyn or Bailey would call…

Snapping off the stove, I hurried to the living room where my cellphone sat on the coffee table.  Why did I always think that I had to wait for someone to call me?

Irelyn answered right away, seemingly surprised to receive my call.

“Hi, Morgan,” she greeted. In the background, I could hear boisterous voices.  “How are you?”

“Oh, fine,” I said.  “Are you busy? I can call back.”

“No,” she laughed.  “We’re at Lucas’s parents’ house.  We usually do dinner on Sundays but his mom wanted to do brunch today.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I said.  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not, trust me,” she said.  “We’re about done here, anyway.  So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, really,” I said.  “I just called to see if you wanted to do something later.  Maybe some Christmas shopping or dinner…”

“Yes,” she said.  “That sounds great!  Bailey’s here, too.  Should I ask her?”

“Absolutely,” I said.  “It’ll be fun.”

“Great,” she said. 
“How about if we meet at Dalefield Mall at two?”

“I’ll see you there.”

***

“I don’t know how many more Sunday get-togethers I can take,” Bailey moaned once we met up at the food court of the mall. 

“Well, seeing as you’re about to give birth to Collin’s baby, I think you’re going to have to endure a whole lot more,” I said, my tone light and playful.  This was what I needed.

“Shut up, Morg,” Bailey muttered as she walked up to the taco stand and ordered three large sodas.

“She complains about Sundays at the Newton house,” Irelyn whispered while Bailey paid for our drinks.  “But she secretly likes them.  You know she never has any sort of huge family gatherings at home.  Usually just her father and her stepmother.”

“Yeah,” I said, plastering a smile on my face as Bailey returned juggling the drinks.  “Thanks.”

“Sure,” she said as she jabbed a straw in her drink.  “So, what gives?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Bailey shrugged.  “Irelyn and I were talking about it on the way over – the sudden call from you to get together.”

“Oh,” I said as a frown pulled at my lips.  “I don’t know – I guess I wanted some girl time.”

“Is there a problem with you and Evan?” Irelyn asked.

I shook my head. 
“No, not really.”

“Something’s up,” Bailey said as we began to stroll through the mall.  We passed the t-shirt shop and I fought a smile.

“We went to a party last night and a guy was sort of hitting on me,” I started, recounting the entire story.

“So?” Bailey said.  “He likes you.  It’s not a big deal.  All guys are like that in one way or another.  They don’t like guys moving in on their women.”

Nodding, I sipped my soda as Bailey stopped in front of a motherhood store, frowning at the display of maternity jeans.

“Man, I don’t want to wear shit like that,” Bailey said, jabbing her finger at a pair of jeans with a stretchy front panel.  “Ugh.”

“It’s either that or sweats,” Irelyn said, standing next to her.  We all stared at the display for a few more seconds before Irelyn turned to me with a sympathetic smile.  “Don’t let it upset you, Morgan.  I know you feel like it’s…male chauvinistic, but actually it’s sort of sweet.  He’s just looking out for you.”

“I suppose,” I said with a sigh.  “I guess you’re right.  I’ve just never had a … a relationship, you know?”

Irelyn tossed an arm around my shoulders.  “Just relax and enjoy yourself.  Evan seems to be a great guy.  Collin and Lucas seem to like him.”

“So does Spence,” Bailey said, yanking my arm, dragging me and Irelyn into the motherhood store.  “He said something today about it. 
Said he had lunch with you yesterday, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” Irelyn said as Bailey stopped at a rack of cute, maternity tops.  “He did mention that.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I said, pretending to admire a shirt Bailey held up.  It was easier than meeting Irelyn’s eyes.  “He called me to tell me about Jessica and then invited me to lunch.”

Irelyn and Bailey shared a glance.

“What?” I asked.

Bailey shrugged as she shoved the shirt back onto the rack.  Irelyn sighed before taking my hand.

“We were just a little concerned that he was calling you again,” Irelyn said.  “You know, like last time.  Remember how he talked to you all the time when Bailey broke up with him?”

“I remember,” I said, my chest tightening.  “And it wasn’t like that.  He wanted to apologize to me for Jessica’s behavior.  That’s all.”

“I hope so,” Bailey said.  “I’d hate for him to lead you on or anything.”

“Yeah,” Irelyn chimed in.  “I mean, you and Evan are together and you seem truly happy.”

I seemed truly happy? Really?  That was a first for me seeing as I’d spent the morning ignoring conflicting feelings.

“I know Spencer thinks of me as only a friend,” I said, fixing an amused expression on my face.  “I think of him as a friend, too.  I’m really over that crush I had on him.  It was just that – a crush.”

Irelyn’s eyes scrutinized my face, searching for lies.  I could only hope there were no cracks in my façade.  Finally, her lips relaxed into a smile.  “Good. You’re better off with Evan.”

“This stuff is terrible,” Bailey said, moving toward the door.  “Maybe I’ll meet Steffi in Indy or something and shop on Daddy’s dime.”

Irelyn laughed.

I forced a laugh, too, but inside I was wondering – why did they both think that it was not a good idea for me to be with Spencer?

***

I watched the snow swirl outside the long windows after waiting on a fussy customer.  Time moved slowly – the hands on the clock creeping to each number.  I missed my bookstore days when I could spend slow evenings browsing new arrivals.  Instead, I was stuck either cleaning tables (again) or cleaning equipment (again).  Dante was in the back, banging dishes and singing loudly to whatever music was flowing through his ear buds.

I made a cup of hot chocolate and sat on a stool, watching the snow.  I had my backpack with me and could have studied or browsed the next chapter in my Calc book, but I wasn’t in the mood for academics.  I wasn’t in the mood for much of anything except maybe my most comfy pajamas and mindless TV.

The bell above the door jingled, garnering my attention.  I hopped off the stool and froze as Evan walked to the counter, cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey, Morgan,” he said, brushing the snow out of his hair.  “Can I get a cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” I said.  I poured him a cup and handed it to him, shaking my head as he reached for his wallet.  “It’s the bottom of the pot and probably pretty crappy.”

He lifted an indifferent shoulder and leaned against the counter.  “So, how was your day, yesterday?  Did you get shit done?  Watch some chick flicks?  Take a long, hot, bubbly bath?”

Furrowing my brow, I leaned closer to him.  “Who’s the girl here?”

Laughing, he pecked my cheek, his lips warm from the coffee.  “Gotcha.”

The tension that had hovered between us was gone, the easy bantering returning with ease.  “I took some pictures and then hung out with my friends.”

“Excellent,” he said as he hopped up on the counter, sipping his coffee.  “Really cool.”

“It was,” I said.  “And you probably shouldn’t be sitting up there.”

“Hm, probably not,” he said.  “But I am anyway.  It’s my way of sticking it to the man.”

“What man?” I asked.

“The man man,” he said.  “You know, the man people stick it to.”

“You make absolutely no sense sometimes,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I’m mysterious and charming that way,” he said.

“Or annoying,” I said.

“That, too,” he said with another shrug.  “What time do you close?”

“Soon,” I said as I retrieved a rag and a bottle of the blue cleaning stuff.  I walked around the counter and began spraying the tables.

Dante, who’d stopped singing for a while, suddenly belted out the chorus to a popular song, making Evan slop coffee down his jacket.

“What in the hell is that?” he asked.

“Dante,” I said, bending over a table, wiping it down.  “He likes music.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. 
“Sounds like he’s killing it to me.”

“He’s having fun,” I said as I moved on to a new table.

“Okay.”  He finished his coffee, crumpled his cup, and leaned over to toss it into the wastebasket behind the counter.  “Finish up and I’ll walk you home.”

“You do realize that I live just steps away,” I said, finishing the tables and returning to the counter.

“Yep. But I kinda thought that if I walked you home, you might invite me in for a beer or something.”

“I don’t have any beer,” I said.

“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to go with the or something.”

“You’re impossible,” I groaned as I walked around the counter and began cleaning the equipment.  As I washed, Evan supplied me with a constant stream of useless information, chattering away about stuff he’d read on the Internet that day.  I found myself hurrying just to make him stop, and then paused, realizing that that might just be his plan.