The Singles (82 page)

“I’m wearing a bathing suit. Please don’t tell me you’ve lost all your common sense since I left?”

Ignoring the rare display of what Lily had always called “Evie-esque sarcasm” from my soft-spoken and sweet sister, my next question stopped her in her tracks. “Will ... will you be back?”

She faced me slowly, a few strands of hair tumbling out of her hairband as she moved her head up and down in an effort to put my mind at ease. Her grin faded away to a sad smile that sent every feel imaginable tumbling through me. “You know I will,” she swore. Then, rolling her brown eyes, she’d shrugged her shoulders. “You know, as long as you get your lazy butt out of bed.”

Those words, and Lily’s promise to return, ripped me out of my sleep. I sat up in bed abruptly, dragging in a deep breath, my hands reaching out in the darkness as if I’d be able to touch my sister if I tried hard enough. It wasn’t possible, and I hugged my arms around myself and squeezed my eyes together because she was gone. Again. And no matter how much I dreamt about her, how much I thought about her, that would always be our reality.

I’d stayed like this for a long time, with my breathing pushing in and out slowly, until a strong hand touched the small of my back. It ran carefully up my spine before touching my shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

Forcing my eyes open, I glanced down at Rhys’ sleepy, confused smile. “I am,” I said.

“You don’t look alright, Evelyn.” He’d started to sit up beside me, but I stopped him, pressing my palm against the middle of his ripped chest. “What are you doing?” he yawned.

Glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand to see that it was only a few minutes before five and we had a few hours of rest left, I leaned in close to him. He feathered his fingers over my cheek before tucking a strand of long chestnut hair behind my ear. “I’m going back to sleep and so should you. I promise I’m fine.” Because even though dreaming about Lily tore me up inside, there would always be something so comforting, so beautiful, that came with those moments with her.

“I’m up,” I’d whispered to myself after Rhys quickly fell asleep. “And I promise I’m not going to mess everything up.”

Now, two and a half hours later, Rhys looks across his tiny kitchen at me as I walk into the room and take a seat at the small breakfast nook. “Good morning,” he drawls.

Though I didn’t actually go back to sleep after dreaming about Lily, I only climbed out of his bed ten minutes ago. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I took a few minutes to respond to an excited email from Kendra, who I’ll be seeing next week, before coming in here to join him. “I have finals today. There’s absolutely nothing good about it.”

Downing the rest of his energy drink, he leans back against the counter and lifts one of his off-black eyebrows. I know what’s coming—he’s going to ask me about this morning. Keeping my gaze down for a moment, I open my unrefrigerated bottle of water, which Mac swears up and down is more beneficial to my singing voice than my usual tea and honey, and take a sip.

Finally, I meet his sea blue eyes head on and work my lips into a reassuring smile. “Okay, let me start over since that was pretty bitchy.” I cross my bare legs, which draws Rhys' gaze down for just a second before he searches my eyes again. “Morning, Mr. Delane.”

“You were talking in your sleep, Evelyn.” He crumbles the energy drink can and sinks it into the trashcan a couple feet away from me with ease. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about today.”

I start to tell him about Lily, but then I think better of it. For starters, I’m selfish. That moment, even if it was all a dream, is something I want solely for myself. And then there’s the fact I have my voice final in an hour and a half. Somehow, I don’t think me showing up red-faced and flustered due to the tears I’ll be unable to stop will do anything to help my performance or grade. And I’ve discovered that those grades mean a lot to me. While I did okay on my final performance last semester—a very high “B,” as Professor Cameron loves to remind me—I want to ace it this time.

I 
need
 to do better.

Rhys rubs his thumb and forefinger over his chin, his eyes questioning. “I'm assuming that silence is a yes.”

“Cameron is scary as hell sometimes,” I reply, pausing for a second as he starts across the kitchen, striding directly toward me, “so of course I’m nervous. I told Nathan I’d switch advisors with him, but I’m pretty sure Ackerman is easy on him, so he’s not going for—” My breath rushes out of my body when Rhys’ hand closes around my wrist, and he jerks me out of my chair and up against his naked, muscular chest. He’s warm and hard, his incredible scent screwing with my senses, and I clear my throat. “If you make me late for my exam, I swear I’m moving back in with Corinne next year.”

“Bullshit, Evelyn.”

“I’m being serious,” I warn, pulling my brows together and pressing my lips into a thin line.

But his cocky grin, and the way his eyes seem to see right through me, tells me he doesn’t buy that for even a second. I’ve spent this entire semester splitting my nights between his place and the room I share with Corinne, and having my belongings all over the place is a nuisance. Last month, when Rhys asked if I’d move in with him next year since his roommate’s contract in Brazil was extended, I was apprehensive at first. The only thing I could think of was my parents, most specifically my mother’s reaction—although she likes Rhys and had even spent part of our spring break with us in Key West, I didn’t think she’d go for me living with him. When I pulled her aside to talk to her on the last day of the break, though, she surprised me. Instead of freaking out about me moving in with a guy I’ve known for nine months, she gave me her silent blessing.

And then she sent me a link of all the teen pregnancy movies on Netflix. It was typical of my mom, but I welcomed it. At least we’re getting our relationship on track, even if my dad has been hot and cold with me ever since Mom filed for divorce last year.

At the tiny smile that flits across my lips, Rhys frames my face with his hands and tilts my gaze up to his. His stare is intense as he studies my expression, looking for answers. “Since you’re not gonna tell me what’s wrong, let me ask you this: You won’t be this distracted while you’re singing today, will you?”

Heat tingles down my spine as his fingers massage against my temples, but I manage to shake my head. “Mmm, no.”

“There’s that 
mmm
 again.” Laughing, he lowers his forehead to mine, the tips of our noses together, our lips nearly touching, and our eyes locked. “You’ll do great.”

“You have to say that. You’re my voice instructor,” I say, and he releases a little growl before turning us around. Lifting me up, he sits me on the nearest countertop, almost knocking over a carousel of coffee pods in the process. “You have to be in the music department soon to help Cameron with finals,” I remind him, a pang of regret crawling through my chest. It settles in the pit of my stomach, causing me to heave a tiny sigh. “Rhys, I—”

But he cuts me off. His lips skim mine, soft and warm, turning that regret into a wave of longing that crashes through me. When he starts to draw away, I shake my head fiercely, digging my fingers into his black hair and pulling him closer to me. His tongue spreads my lips, plunging roughly into my mouth. He tastes like the energy drink he just finished, and as we wrap ourselves around each other, I decide it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Period.

At last, he drags himself away from me, backing up a few steps to put a safe amount of distance between our bodies. “Damn, I’m not gonna be able to focus on anything but you today,” he murmurs, running his hand over his face. I respond by touching my own lips, and his eyes darken. “I need to shower and get the hell out of here, but you’re mine tonight, Evelyn.”

Scooting off the counter, I adjust the oversized t-shirt of his that I’m wearing, pulling it over my ass as I start to walk past him. A frustrated groan ripping from the back of his throat, he yanks me to him yet again. “You know I love you, and—”

“I love you, too,” I whisper a little breathlessly, and a full grin spreads across his gorgeous features.

“Good, because I have no patience this morning,” he informs me, pressing my hand to the front of his boxers so I can feel his erection. “I need you in my shower in the next three minutes or I’ll end up taking my time, and Cameron will have both our asses when we're late.”

“I’ll be there in two,” I promise.

I can hear the sound of the shower running as I race to Rhys' bedroom to grab my body wash from the bag I brought over the night before. Just before I leave to join him, I catch a glimpse of my laptop, which is still open on his dresser from emailing Kendra earlier.

My latest background image, the one of Lily and me at prom three years ago, stares back at me and though I can’t remember anything we talked about that particular night, I can vividly hear my sister telling me many, many times how I’d thank her when I graduated.

“I haven’t screwed anything up in a long time,” I start in a low whisper, my voice heavy from all the emotion suddenly weighing my chest down. “I haven't gone out of my way to see what I can wreck. Let’s see how long I can keep this up. If you catch me trying to fuck everything up—well, knock some sense into me, please?”

Before I close the screen, I brush my thumb over my sister’s smiling face and give the image of her an appreciative nod. “And thank you. For everything.”

Then, I leave the room and head for the one thing I’ve wrecked that turned out right.

-The End of
Wrecked
-

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T
hank you so much to my readers for being so amazing. Your enthusiasm and support for my books amaze me on a daily basis, and I feel so blessed to have you. Thank you for all the emails, reviews, and Facebook messages. You rock my world!

To Michelle Valentine and Kristen Proby— Thank you ladies for putting up with my randomness and making me laugh. I love you two.

To Holly Malgieri and Jenn Foor: YOU TWO ROCK. Thanks for making me grin all the time!

Christine Bezdenejnih Estevez, you are one amazing chick! Thank you for keeping me organized and for loving my books. BIG HUGS for everything you do (and it’s a lot)!

Thanks to Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs for creating such a beautiful book cover. And to Stacy Kestwick for her wonderful beta-reading skills and Jenny Sims with Editing4Indies for her unbelievingly quick proofreading—you two rock!

To Cris Hadarly, Becca Manuel, and Abbie Dauenheimer—Thank you ladies a million times for being so effing creative. I love the trailers and collages, and I smile like an idiot every time I look at them.

To all my amazing author friends—you guys kick ass. I’m so blessed to be a part of such a great, caring community. Lots of love to you all.

To the bloggers in the romance community—THANK YOU! Your support and love for my books mean so much to me. I appreciate you all more than you could ever imagine. Thank you for taking such good care of me and all the other indie authors.

T
urn the page for an exclusive sneak peek at
BAD ADVICE
—a romantic comedy coming in 2015 from
Avonlea Cole
and Emily Snow!

D
ear Avery,

First of all, I’m a huge fan of your column. I’ve been reading it from the start, and your advice seriously ROCKS! Now for the hard part ...  I have been dating this guy for several months. We can call him “Ed.” So, “Ed” and I have been spending the night with each other a few nights a week. He is ALWAYS happy and in a good mood when we’re together, BUT he hasn’t introduced me to any of his friends. He hasn’t changed his Facebook status, and we NEVER go out in public.

What’s going on? Does he even like me? Do I embarrass him? Please help; any advice would be appreciated.

Sincerely,

Confused in Richmond

––––––––

D
ear
Confused
Denial in Richmond,

This is your conscience saying you need to wake the hell up. Is the truth that unclear that you need to write to a stranger for advice? The dude is cheating on you. You are his sidepiece—his mashed potatoes. His steak has already met his friends and, hell, probably even eats Sunday brunch at the country club with his parents.

He doesn't want to know your feelings, doesn’t care about them
,
and he sure as hell ain't gonna tell you how he feels. Chalk it up to a booty call and move along. There are plenty of other douchebags in the sea that will actually tell you how they feel.

Keeping It Real In Raleigh,

Amanda Truthslayer

*

F
or the third time since sitting down on the other side of my boss’s desk, I read through the post she’d taken the liberty to print off for me, screaming out thoughts as they popped into my head.

“Mashed Potatoes? She called my reader mashed-freakin’-potatoes! How in the hell could
any
woman have so little class or courtesy? Doesn’t she know this is someone’s
life
she’s talking about? Someone’s dreams she’s crushing?” I crumble the print-off and slam it into the wastebasket by my editor’s desk. “Of course, she doesn’t because she’s a mega-witch!”