Second Down (Moving the Chains Book 2) (16 page)

“I’ll get my shit together, then. I don’t want anyone blaming you.”

He can’t change what other people think. “I lied before.”

“You want me to hold you?” He sounds surprised.

“No. My head’s killing me.”

The mattress shifts again. I can tell he’s on his feet. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, he nudges me. It’s a struggle to lift my heavy eyelids, but when I do, I find him holding a bottle of water. He thrusts his other hand at me, revealing three ibuprofen.

“Mom said you’re probably stressed out, and it’s not helping your concussion any. She said to take these.”

I follow the nurse’s directions and swallow the pills with the water.

“Evie?”

I roll onto my side on the bed, making sure my back is to Rob. I couldn’t get up if I wanted to right now. “Yeah?”

“Remember how you selfishly requested the all-healing powers of my magical hands?”

If I didn’t know it would cause excruciating pain, I might laugh. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”

The mattress dips with his weight behind me. “I’m not gonna stop worrying about you, so stop telling me to. Can I…could I hold you anyway? It might help your head.”

“Whatever.”

His touch is tentative at first, but eventually we’re spooning in the middle of his bed. His bicep acts as a pillow beneath my head, his chest pressed to my back. Using the arm that isn’t beneath me, his hand sifts through my hair gently. I notice he always avoids the area where the staples used to be.

“Let’s talk about something else. Mom said to keep you calm.”

Oh, so he’s just following orders. Nice. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Was I in your room before? I still don’t remember.”

“Let’s talk about anything except what you don’t remember.” He snuggles even closer, his breath flirting with my curls.

“Are you still going to get the tattoo you wanted?”

He yawns, but continues his ministrations through my strands. “I wasn’t sure at first, but yeah. I think I will.”

“You said it had nothing to do with sports. What will you get?” I can’t hold onto my anger with him wrapped around me like this. The meds are calming my head, and Rob fends off my fear.

“If I’m going to have something on my skin for the rest of my life, I think it should be something life-changing, don’t you?”

“Hmm.” I don’t have the energy to solve that puzzle. Moreover, I can’t imagine ever permanently etching something onto my skin. What if I change my mind later? Then what?

He doesn’t offer any other clues. After a short silence, he abandons my hair and wraps both arms around me. His chest moves in a steady breathing rhythm. He must have fallen asleep.

Or, at least that’s what I think until I feel him press a kiss against my head. His words are whisper-soft, yet the loudest things I’ve ever heard.

“I don’t blame you if you hate me. I’m so sorry for everything. How could you ever love me now?”

He must think I’m asleep too. He wouldn’t be softly crying otherwise. I’ll let him believe it…for now.

Does he need proof from me? Is that what’s holding him back? Guess I’ll never know if I never try.

Chapter 17

The Silence

Rob

I take a small step onto hallowed ground: Eva Papageorgiou’s bedroom. If I didn’t already have my shoes off, I definitely would be removing them at her doorway. My eyes drink in everything around me in slow motion. Though I’m not looking at her, I feel Evie at my side, watching.

It’s everything I’d ever imagined, and yet nothing like I expected. “Oh my God, you’re a girl.”

“Well...yeah.” She laughs, but there’s an unmistakable tone of embarrassment to it.

It’s no wonder. As much as she portrays herself as a self-assured badass at school, this is the environment of a sentimental, feminine girl. The large bed in the center of the wall opposite me boasts a lacy pink comforter with matching small, girly pillows. It’s perfectly made as I’d expect from a perfectionist like Evie, but that’s where it ends. The rest of the room is practically overflowing with...things.

Stepping fully into the room, I turn a three-sixty to take it all in. There’s virtually no space left uncluttered. The large dresser to the right of the door is littered with various makeup cases and brushes, some kind of iron looking-thingy, and the stuff she must use to make her hair smell so good. The big mirror has pictures taped all around the edges, and there’s a large jewelry box at the end of the space.

Beside her bed is a nightstand with some kind of glass, floral-patterned lamp on top, and a vase with the flowers that I’d given her yesterday before our fake date. It boggles my mind that she liked them and maybe wanted them close to her. I kinda thought she’d throw them away when I wasn’t looking.

On the wall opposite from her desk, a large cabinet sits full of knick-knacks, but it’s the bottom shelf that catches my eye. Six bouquets of dried flowers are arranged neatly, one for every fine arts concert since freshman year.

Beside this cabinet sits another dresser. Arranged in a row on its surface are three small stuffed bears, one for every birthday between then and now.

Of course, she doesn’t know any of these things are from me, so it’s no big deal. As far as she knows, they’re gifts from a secret admirer. One who was too chickenshit to give them to her in person.

Above the dresser, framed photos of Honor Society group pictures, band pictures, choir pictures, all things from her various activities, along with ribbons, awards, and dried corsages from different events.

There are several framed family photos hanging on this wall, but one smallish poster sticks out, because it’s neither from one of her activities nor of her family. It’s a picture of last year’s football team. The one that was circulated in the local newspaper at the start of the season just as it is every year. The one that names me captain of the varsity team and starting quarterback.

“Enjoying yourself?” Evie asks, amusement dancing in her voice. “You can come in all the way and look at whatever you want. I don’t actually have any secrets in here.”

I chance a quick glance at her to see if she’s joking, but it doesn’t seem like it. Her body language is relaxed, and she’s smiling at me.

Evie is smiling at me.

I can’t believe it.

Walking over to the wall for a closer inspection, I recall from being in Rachel’s room that she used to kiss various posters on her walls. I could tell by the red-stained, glossy lip prints over top of the mouths in the pictures. Those were all of some actors or boy bands, but still, I got the gist. I made fun of her to no end every time I was in there until she'd finally kick me out of her room. Even though I doubt it, I look to see if Evie ever engaged in the same behavior. Denied.

That really shouldn’t disappoint me as much as it does. Even though I have no right, I can’t resist that Evie’s given me full disclosure to look around her space. I’m not sure if it’s from lack of sleep or because I never imagined being here, but I’m in a trance. I can’t take it all in fast enough or in enough detail.

Evie sits at her desk and wakes up her computer, turning her back to me as if she really doesn’t care what I do in here. Either she trusts me, or she’s still mad about the way my dad treated her at my house.

I have never wanted to hit the man so badly in my eighteen years.

I walk over to the mirror to study all the photos framing it, and startle when I catch a glimpse of my own reflection. This brown hair is going to take some getting used to.

Most of the pictures are a combination of Evie, Jess, Alyssa, Chase, Jeremy, and Ashton. There’s one of her and Mike as kids that brings a smile to my face even as my chest heats with jealousy. One photo sticks out as being unlike the others because I’m also in it.

It was taken at the first bonfire of football season last year. A group of us stand around the junior fire: me, Evie, Mike, Chelsie, Jess, Ashton, Jeremy, Alyssa, Alex, and some girl he’d dated briefly last year whose name I can’t even recall. Rachel took this photo. I had myself completely psyched out that I was going to talk to Evie, finally ask her on a date, but putting my arm around her shoulders as we posed for this picture was all I’d been able to muster.

She looks so downright happy and gorgeous, frozen in this snapshot second of our lives. Before I chickened out again, and eventually pushed her into the arms of someone who treated her like a piece of meat.

All I do is hurt her. I’m such a screw up.

“Don’t you want to look through my drawers and closet for spirit week outfits?”

Her voice startles me and I look down to find her at my side. I was so lost in the picture of happier times I didn’t even notice her get up from her desk.

“You…you seriously don’t mind me going through your stuff?”

She shrugs, then turns her gaze to the picture I can’t stop staring at. “I like this picture.”

“I like it too. Where did you get it?” Rachel and Evie aren’t friends, so it’s not like Rach gave her a copy.

A weirdly knowing grin slips across Evie’s lips. “Someone slid it in my locker last year.”

Of course Rachel did.

“Do you want me to make you a copy?”

“I, uh…” My throat twists with anxiety. “I already have one.”

Her brow furrows, and she chews on her delicious lip. “Really? I didn’t see it in your bedroom.”

That’s because it’s hidden in my nightstand along with a bottle of lotion that smells almost as good as you.
“I meant I used to have it. Guess I lost it.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say. Her expression changes from confusion to sadness. “Oh. Okay.”

Tension swirls between us, clawing at my exhausted muscles. I’m so fucking tired of this shit.

“Can I ask you something?
”
She gazes up at me curiously, but waits until I nod to continue
.
“I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but your mom said something that made me think about it.”

Shit. My mom said some completely inappropriate stuff today. Which thing is Evie referring to? I swallow down the sour taste of bile that climbs up my throat. I can’t believe Ma told Evie not to look under my bed or in my nightstand. How does my
mother
even know what’s hiding in there?

“So…um.” Evie’s cheeks flush a bright red, but she straightens her shoulders and maintains an even gaze with me. “Will you go to Homecoming with me?”

“What?”

“I mean, I guess I could ask you in Greek, but I don’t think you’ll understand me…” She shuffles her foot against the beige carpet for a bit, waiting.

On me.

What the hell? This is all wrong.

“No.”

Her brave expression slips, but only for a second. Just as quickly, she masks my rejection with a shy smile. “No, you don’t want to go with me, or no, you don’t want to go to the dance at all?”

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?

 “I understand if you don’t want to go to the dance. Large crowds aren’t really my thing anymore, and honestly, I’ve never been to a school dance before so I have no idea what to expect. But, um, you’ll probably be elected Homecoming King, so you might actually
have
to go.”

It takes me several blinks to process her rushed words. She’s never been to a dance before?
Ever
? And she wants to go with me to her first one?

Me? Her ex-boyfriend who let her down so badly?

I have no words for this moment.

For years, I’ve tried to work up the nerve to talk to Evie, let alone ask her on a date or to a dance. All this time, I thought she went with someone else. Or at least with a group of her friends. Every night that I sat home alone in my room, imagining who was touching her, maybe kissing her goodnight…and she was home alone too?

Just because I know now that she had a crush on me all this time doesn’t make this revelation any easier to swallow. If anything, I realize it’s all my fault that she’s never been to a dance before.

“Rob?” She reaches a hand up to cup my cheek.

I blink again. She didn’t even shudder when our skin made contact.

“You didn’t sleep at all while I took a glorious nap at your house, did you?”

I shake my head. She pulls her cool, slender hand away.

“Why not?”

I didn’t want to have a nightmare and wake you up.

She sighs, but smiles up at me again. “That’s okay. Do you want to take a nap here, maybe? You look exhausted.”

My gaze volleys between Evie and her bed. First, she asks me to Homecoming, then offers to let me sleep in her bed?

I pinch my arm…hard. This has to be the weirdest dream I’ve ever had. I should be grateful it’s not a nightmare, but…

“What are you
doing
?” Her eyes widen as she stares at the red mark on my arm.

“Uh…” How do I explain that? “Trying to keep myself awake? I still have to pick out all your clothes for the week, and we have more homework to catch up on, so…”

She flattens me with a plainly disbelieving look. “I can make you some coffee if you want. I know you usually drink your protein shake things, but I don’t have any of that here.”

She knows what I usually drink? Has she been taking stock on my favorite things all these years like I did for her?

“So, coffee? Homecoming?” She clasps her hands in front of her, a hopeful smile lighting up her face.

She’s so damn cute. And she’s making it so fucking hard for me to say no.