other girls know we’re done. I wait until she’s
walked away to half-mumble my next question. “So you’re coaching the softball
team, huh?”
“Looks like it. Avery’s on the team, ya know, so…” He
waggles his eyebrows at me. “Coaching gets me brownie points.”
“Well, I know you’re off to a better start than me.
At least yours are athletes.” I hang my head in a combination of mocking and
honest shame. “Mine are singers .”
“Hey! I heard that!” Whitley’s back and just used
her very tiny fist to inflict some very large pain in my chest…right over my
fresh tattoo.
I wince despite my best effort not to, rubbing my
chest, so she feels bad and starts coddling me, going all out with her apology.
“Shoot, Evan I’m sorry, I forgot.” She covers my
hands with hers, essentially helping me rub.
It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, just a
little sting at first, but now…well, we’ve officially caused a scene.
“It’s okay, Whit,” I mumble, “forget about it, please. ”
Wishing the ground would open and swallow me whole,
I can feel her staring at me, and then…
“What’s wrong?” Laney rushes to me, her voice edged
with concern, her eyes worried. “Evan, are you actually hurt?” She went from
ignoring indifference to Florence Nightingale in milliseconds.
“I’m fine,” I bark, looking at the ground. Except
I’m not fine since you’re in my air space and now I can’t breathe. And I can
smell you from here; I can smell that lavender lotion and the shampoo you love
that comes in the green and white bottle.
“Bullshit, I saw you flinch. What is it?” Her face
wears a mask of anger, so focused on me I don’t know that she realizes she just
hedged Whitley out of the way with her shoulder and hip, grabbing at me now,
pushing my hands out of her way and pulling on my shirt, trying to get a peek.
The most interaction we’ve had in eons and this is
it? Her mauling me in front of everyone, thinking I’m hurt and need her to save
me? My body is happy she’s near, my heart so ready to soak up any attention she
offers and quit aching, but my mind…my mind is still pissed.
“I’m not hurt, all right?” I speak too loudly, too gruffly,
and even Whitley twitches at my tone.
But Laney? Laney holds strong, her mocha eyes
challenging me like they always have.
“It’s a tattoo, geez,” I grumble, pulling up my
shirt to show her.
Now it’s Laney’s turn to gasp. “What the hell is that ?”
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again quickly, as
though she was hallucinating and just needed to refresh her vision. She’s gonna
be disappointed, cause it’s still there. “Since when are you into tattoos?” she
bites out, one hand on a very angry cocked hip.
“Since now, I guess,” I offer with a gratifying
simper on my face. “Guess we’re both into new things these days, huh?”
The torment that flashes in her eyes is
unmistakable, even if fleeting, and like always, I feel bad. All I was trying
to do was stand up for myself, but I feel like shit. This isn’t how I wanted to
do things.
“Isn’t it cool?”
Oh Lord , here we go , is all I can
think as Whitley taunts Laney with her purring question, her hand now on my
shoulder.
“Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not all of a
sudden a sailor, or wilderness guide, Evan ,” she starts, her tone
scathing, “why’d you put a compass on your chest? Do your parents know?”
The inflection and glare she wears is probably the
only warning Whitley’s gonna get to butt the fuck out or get cold cocked, and
I’m nervous for a second that Laney’s gonna hit her.
“Whitley picked it, and no, they don’t know…yet.”
She no more heard the last six words of that
sentence than the man in the moon. Laney checked out, and Maleficent, her
favorite Disney witch, checked in right when I announced Whitley’s involvement.
I am a bad, bad man and my mama would test my ass if she knew my
walked away to half-mumble my next question. “So you’re coaching the softball
team, huh?”
“Looks like it. Avery’s on the team, ya know, so…” He
waggles his eyebrows at me. “Coaching gets me brownie points.”
“Well, I know you’re off to a better start than me.
At least yours are athletes.” I hang my head in a combination of mocking and
honest shame. “Mine are singers .”
“Hey! I heard that!” Whitley’s back and just used
her very tiny fist to inflict some very large pain in my chest…right over my
fresh tattoo.
I wince despite my best effort not to, rubbing my
chest, so she feels bad and starts coddling me, going all out with her apology.
“Shoot, Evan I’m sorry, I forgot.” She covers my
hands with hers, essentially helping me rub.
It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, just a
little sting at first, but now…well, we’ve officially caused a scene.
“It’s okay, Whit,” I mumble, “forget about it, please. ”
Wishing the ground would open and swallow me whole,
I can feel her staring at me, and then…
“What’s wrong?” Laney rushes to me, her voice edged
with concern, her eyes worried. “Evan, are you actually hurt?” She went from
ignoring indifference to Florence Nightingale in milliseconds.
“I’m fine,” I bark, looking at the ground. Except
I’m not fine since you’re in my air space and now I can’t breathe. And I can
smell you from here; I can smell that lavender lotion and the shampoo you love
that comes in the green and white bottle.
“Bullshit, I saw you flinch. What is it?” Her face
wears a mask of anger, so focused on me I don’t know that she realizes she just
hedged Whitley out of the way with her shoulder and hip, grabbing at me now,
pushing my hands out of her way and pulling on my shirt, trying to get a peek.
The most interaction we’ve had in eons and this is
it? Her mauling me in front of everyone, thinking I’m hurt and need her to save
me? My body is happy she’s near, my heart so ready to soak up any attention she
offers and quit aching, but my mind…my mind is still pissed.
“I’m not hurt, all right?” I speak too loudly, too gruffly,
and even Whitley twitches at my tone.
But Laney? Laney holds strong, her mocha eyes
challenging me like they always have.
“It’s a tattoo, geez,” I grumble, pulling up my
shirt to show her.
Now it’s Laney’s turn to gasp. “What the hell is that ?”
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again quickly, as
though she was hallucinating and just needed to refresh her vision. She’s gonna
be disappointed, cause it’s still there. “Since when are you into tattoos?” she
bites out, one hand on a very angry cocked hip.
“Since now, I guess,” I offer with a gratifying
simper on my face. “Guess we’re both into new things these days, huh?”
The torment that flashes in her eyes is
unmistakable, even if fleeting, and like always, I feel bad. All I was trying
to do was stand up for myself, but I feel like shit. This isn’t how I wanted to
do things.
“Isn’t it cool?”
Oh Lord , here we go , is all I can
think as Whitley taunts Laney with her purring question, her hand now on my
shoulder.
“Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not all of a
sudden a sailor, or wilderness guide, Evan ,” she starts, her tone
scathing, “why’d you put a compass on your chest? Do your parents know?”
The inflection and glare she wears is probably the
only warning Whitley’s gonna get to butt the fuck out or get cold cocked, and
I’m nervous for a second that Laney’s gonna hit her.
“Whitley picked it, and no, they don’t know…yet.”
She no more heard the last six words of that
sentence than the man in the moon. Laney checked out, and Maleficent, her
favorite Disney witch, checked in right when I announced Whitley’s involvement.
I am a bad, bad man and my mama would test my ass if she knew my
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