One Good Thing (19 page)

After Evan finished his coffee, he set the mug down reluctantly. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” And then I said something I never thought I’d say. Something that went totally against all of my rules. “You could stay.”

“I’d like that.”

“Unless … will Vader be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. He has food and water and a heated doghouse.”

“That’s fancy,” I said, smiling slightly. “Do you ever sleep in there with him? Like you get lonely at night so you crawl in there and cuddle?”

Evan laughed. “And you accused me of being creepy? I think you’re one of those people who tries so hard to be inconspicuous and normal because they think all kinds of weird thoughts.”

“Possibly. Except …”

“Except what?”

“I say what I think more when I’m with you than when I’m with anyone else,” I said, frowning at the realization.

He shrugged. “I have that effect on people,” he responded. “Everyone loves me.”

I froze at the sound of the L-word from his lips. I froze because my heart beat just a little bit faster when I heard it. “Just because you’re spending the night doesn’t mean anything’s changed. This is still temporary.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” he said, his voice soft.

I realized I’d snapped at him. He was talking to me like he might talk to a wounded creature, soothing and quiet. I clutched the coffee mug with a shaky hand, trying to get ahold of myself. “Are you sure Vader will be fine?”

“If you’re that worried about him, it’s a big doghouse. We could all fit.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I responded drily.

I drained a large gulp of coffee to avoid looking at him; the bitterness nearly choked me. I ended up pouring out the rest of it; the only reason I’d brewed coffee in the first place was to distract myself.

“You don’t have any contact lens cleaner, do you?”

“Alyssa has some; I don’t think she’d mind if you used it. I guess you won’t be able to brush your teeth,” I said, a bit apologetically, “but we have mouthwash.”

“That’ll be fine,” he said. “They don’t really go through the repercussions of an impromptu sleepover in the movies, do they? They just make it seem sudden and romantic.”

“Maybe you should start carrying an overnight bag with you.”

He looked at me intently. “I could. If I thought I’d be invited to stay.”

One shoulder lifted. I tried to act casual. “We’ll see how this one goes. But your house is better for it,” I pointed out. “Your bed is about ten times as comfortable as mine.”

“Yours can’t be that bad.”

A half hour later, after I’d made up the pull-out couch with sheets and a quilt and we’d climbed in together (which was a strange sensation; before when we’d spent the night together I’d fallen asleep because I was exhausted; nothing about it had been planned—this was a deliberate act, domestic and unfamiliar and a little bit terrifying), Evan shifted around on the mattress and said, in a tone of disgruntled surprise, “How do you sleep on this?”

“I told you your bed is way better.”

“It’s like I’m lying on a rock.”

“I usually just sleep on the couch instead of the pull-out. That’s more comfortable.”

“No more sleepovers here,” he stated. “
You
can pack an overnight bag.”

“I’m sorry your thirty-year-old muscles can’t take it.”

He swiveled his head toward me. “Twenty-eight. No rounding.” Then he squinted. “Are you laughing at me?”

“You can’t tell?” I asked. “My face is like three feet away from yours.”

“I have the eyesight of a bat,” he said. He scooted closer, until his nose was nearly touching mine. “That’s better.” His fingertips traced the curve of my lips. “You
are
laughing at me.”

“You’re just so easy to laugh at,” I said, but my voice was breathless. I could feel the heat from his skin. And since he didn’t have pajamas and was only wearing boxers, there was a lot of skin.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my mouth, the faintest caress, like a wisp of air. “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s a bad way to start a question,” I said, immediately wary. People only said that if they thought what they wanted to ask might be offensive.

“You can choose not to answer,” he pointed out, a lot more calmly than I was feeling. “I noticed here and at the office the only pictures you have are of your mom and sister. You don’t have any with your dad.”

The breath whooshed from my lungs. I could almost hear the thump of my pulse. “That’s not a question,” I said, trying to sound teasing, but there was an audible quaver in my voice.

Evan didn’t say anything; he simply waited. He made it very, very hard to refuse him, and sometimes I didn’t know if it was a trait I liked.

“He died when I was fifteen,” I said. “A car accident. He ran a stop sign at an intersection and a pickup truck hit his car—the other driver was okay, but my dad was in critical condition; he died at the hospital a few days later.”

I recited it like I was reading out of a textbook. It wasn’t something that had really happened, something that I’d experienced. It was a set of facts that I told people when I was required to. That’s how I’d always looked at it.

A mental gate had been constructed in my mind, separating my everyday life from memories that I was sure would cause too much pain. When I felt myself too close to that gate, when I accidentally let a memory in, I quickly slipped back.

Evan didn’t tell me he was sorry. Instead, I felt his arm curling around my waist; he tucked my body into his, my back touching his chest, the backs of my legs pressed to the front of his, like he was sheltering me. But he didn’t say a word.

It caused a fierce longing in me. What would it be like to have him by me every night, protecting me with his warmth and his touch?

My breath strangled in my throat. I knew he felt the hitch. I closed my eyes and just focused on breathing, on dragging in a sufficient amount of oxygen no matter how difficult it was, until I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“I hate this game!” I exclaimed, hitting the buttons on the controller furiously. “Where do all these enemies come from? Do they drop them out of the sky?”

Evan took a swig of beer as he watched the screen. “You could set it on an easier level.”

“No!” I shrieked. Then I tilted my whole body as I tried to fight off another swarm of opponents. “Damn, damn, damn!” My life gauge was going down rapidly; there were too many of the nasty things. I winced as the screen went dark and the jaunty little tune played that indicated I’d been destroyed.

I threw the controller down on the other side of the couch. “That’s it.”

Evan lifted his eyebrows. “That’s what you said last time.”

I poked him. “It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have introduced me to video games. They’re stupid and
still
manage to be addicting.”

He grinned and kissed me with lips that were cold from his beer. “But you look so hot when you get frustrated.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling, too.

A subtle shift had occurred in our relationship after the night I’d told him about my dad. We were closer. Closer than I wanted to be. We spent more time together than we had before, and it wasn’t just more time in the bedroom. I would do things like this—play video games or cook dinner with him. We didn’t discuss anything that was too substantial; we didn’t talk about a future or commitments; we didn’t go on any dates. Hell, we didn’t even leave his house.

But in spite of all of those safeguards, it had almost started to feel like we had a relationship that went beyond sex. And I couldn’t let that happen. It was a mantra that went through my mind repeatedly. Soon, I would have to put more distance between us. Make it clear that all of this was temporary. Soon, I might be forced to break things off altogether.

But I didn’t want to think about that. The sex hadn’t gotten boring yet; if anything it was getting better the more familiar we became with each other. And I liked being with him, even if we were perilously close to a line I didn’t want to cross.

A little longer, I kept telling myself. Just a little longer before I let him go.

Evan pulled my legs over his lap so I had to lean my back against the armrest and began kneading my calves through my jeans.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’re tense. These games are bad for you,” he said, and
tsk
ed and shook his head. “But I know what’s good for you.”

His hands slid up to my thighs.

“Do you?” I asked, opening my legs a little wider.

“I am masseur Evan,” he said with a garbled French accent. “Today I give you full-body massage.”

“That sounds frisky.”

“Oh, it is, madam. I have a very frisky baguette.”

I laughed as he lifted my shirt and kissed my stomach, and then my laughter died off as he got serious about the full-body-massage business and started to undress me.

When the doorbell pierced the silenced, Evan’s head shot up and I jumped.

“Are you expecting someone?” I pushed myself up, hurriedly dragging my sweater over my head.

“I don’t think so. Maybe they’ll go away.”

We were silent for a few seconds.

Ding!

He swore and ran his hand through his hair, looking down at me regretfully as he stood.

I peeked over the back of the couch to see who it was when he walked over to answer. The door opened on a young guy, probably in his early twenties, with a mop of reddish hair and thick-framed glasses. He held a plastic case in his hand.

He didn’t wait to be let in, or even greeted. He just pushed past Evan. “Have you bought this yet? It is insane!”

“No, I haven’t,” Evan responded. “Go away.”

“Why? Do you—” The guy trailed off when he saw me watching him from the couch. “There’s a girl here!”

“I know you don’t encounter them much, but could you stop staring? Her name is Dani.” Evan sighed as he indicated the young man. “This is my cousin Christopher.”

He rushed forward, nearly tripping in his haste to reach me, and stuck out his hand. I shook it tentatively … his palm felt a little clammy. “Are you dating? Evan hasn’t dated anyone since his fiancée dumped him.”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Evan said it good-naturedly, even though his hands were tight on his crossed arms like he might be tempted to pick up his cousin and toss him outside if he didn’t keep them restrained.

I smiled. “We’re just friends.”

“Ha!” he said, turning toward Evan. “You’ve been put in the friend zone.”

“Are you leaving anytime soon?”

“But I just got this game,” he whined. “You know my TV is the size of a shoe box.” He looked longingly at the TV in the living room.

“We had plans,” Evan began.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“I need another beer,” he said, turning toward the kitchen. Christopher followed on his heels and they moved out of sight, their voices drifting back to me. “Can I have one?”

“You’re not twenty-one yet.”

“Can I have a soda?”

“Fine.”

“Geez, what has you in such a bad mood?” A few seconds of muffled sound ensued while they opened their drinks. And then Christopher said in a low, concerned voice. “Is Courtney doing all right?”

I frowned. Who was Courtney? Evan had never mentioned anyone with that name.

He didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “She’s okay, I guess. Given the circumstances. I wish I could do more.” His voice sounded different, tighter somehow.

What circumstances?

Were they talking about his ex-fiancée? I’d assumed they didn’t speak to each other anymore, but I didn’t have any evidence to support that assumption. It was just easier, somehow, to think the woman he’d loved was out of his life. And if she wasn’t, what did that mean? Why would he hold on to someone who’d left him, even by the thinnest thread, unless he wasn’t quite over her?

My fingernails bit into my palms. I didn’t like the idea of Evan pining away for someone who hadn’t appreciated him enough the first time. It was sympathy hollowing out my stomach, not jealousy, I told myself.

I never found out if that’s who they were talking about, and later I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

“Do you want anything, Dani?” Evan called from the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine,” I said.

They came back without discussing Courtney any further. Christopher sat down next to me and grinned, practically bouncing on the sofa. He reminded me of a puppy, eager and a little too energetic. Maybe he would settle down with age. “Do you want to play with me?”

“Sure,” I said, taking the controller he held out.

Evan took the space on my other side. “She’s competitive. You should watch out.” But I noticed his smile wasn’t the easy, contagious one I’d grown familiar with. It was forced, almost brittle.

Whatever they’d been talking about had affected him. I wanted to know why, but the game started, and I turned myself to the mindless task of shooting enemies. Whatever was going on was something Evan hadn’t revealed to me, and I wouldn’t pry into his personal life, no matter how much it gnawed at me.

*

The Thursday before the SLQ Christmas party, Evan didn’t come into work. I hadn’t seen him the night before either—he’d mentioned a family thing he had to make an appearance at.

I took out my cell phone when I saw that his office was dark, staring down at the blank screen for a long moment before I sent him a text. My phone buzzed a few minutes later.

Staying home today. Not feeling very well.

I responded,
Is it the flu?

Not sure. But I don’t want to go to work and spread germs around. I hate when people do that.

Me too. Hope you feel better.

He was on my mind most of the morning. I didn’t like to think about him being ill and staying at his house by himself.

During my lunch break, I decided to pick up soup to go from a café that was an easy walk from SLQ. And then I called a taxi to take me to his house. I thought I’d surprise him and we could eat lunch together, so he didn’t have to be alone the whole day.

A thin layer of glistening snow blanketed his lawn and driveway. It crunched under my feet as I walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. I heard the taxi drive away.