Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (15 page)

Chapter 18

Man Hands

~Evan~

“
H
ey, roomie, glad you’re back!”

“Hey, Zach, good to be back.” I look around my new
room, which is small, clean and of normal smell—
bonus.
 “Did you unpack
all my stuff for me?”

“Yeah right,” he scoffs, “Avery did it for you.
Don’t worry,” he waggles his eyebrows, “I thanked her already.”

I collapse onto my bed, worn thin from the last two
weeks. Spring Break, Dale, Whitley, tons of driving… I need to re-center badly.

“So…” Zach hesitates, “I was real sorry to hear
about your loss. Are you okay? Laney okay?”

“Getting there; a little better every day. I just
hope my buddy Parker and his mom are all right. I think maybe I’ll go back and
help them with their farm this summer.”

He nods and starts lacing up his shoes. “Me and Ave
are gonna go grab some dinner. You wanna go?”

“Nah, thanks, though. I just wanna shower and go to
bed.” I’m already half asleep just talking about it.

“All right,” he slaps my leg, “I’ll hang in her room
‘til curfew then, let you get some rest. We’ll have to work out a schedule one
of these days, ya know. Socks on the door don’t work; jackasses think it’s
funny to grab them off. My old roommate had the whitest ass you’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t have to worry about that with me,” I
groan.

“Oh yeah?” His brows shoot up mockingly. “Your ass
is tan, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant.” I laugh, more
at my own sad state of affairs, of lack thereof, than the conversation. “Just
let me know, though. I can make myself scarce.”

“Evan, man, you gotta get back out there. This is
college.
You’re young, wild, and free. You want me to hook you up?”

Going to regret this, no doubt.

Jumping in like a blind, lonely fool anyway.

“Actually,” I sit up and let him see I’m serious, “I
do. I kinda already decided I was gonna start dating, so if you have somebody
cool in mind, I’m down.”

“Atta boy,” he offers his knuckles for a bump, “I’ll
see what I can do.”

“Yup,” I mutter, bumping him back weakly, “you do
that.”

D
ate #1—Friday night

Conspirator: Zach

Girl: Tiffany-blonde, Junior, Phi something
something, in Zach’s Anatomy class

Problem: Mannish

“Whitley?” I whisper, though I have no idea why. I’m
pretty sure She-Man didn’t follow me into the men’s bathroom. Then again…

“Evan? Where are you? I can barely hear you,” she whispers
back, not realizing she’s mimicking me.

“Listen, woman, I need your help.”

“I thought you were on a date?”

“That’s what I need your help with. What do you do
when you’re on a date that you really want to get out of…like five minutes
ago.”

“I have a friend call me and fake an emergency. But
that’s a girl trick, so she’ll know what you’re doing.”

“All right, then what else ya got?”

“Hmmm,” she mulls it over, “what do I get out of
it?”

“Extortion?” I choke out, shocked. “Whitley, I’m
appalled.” I used appalled, a word pretty foreign to me, to cut at her root; she
appreciates Whitley language.

She giggles in my ear, getting way too much
enjoyment out of this. “You have to tell me everything. Deal?”

“Yes, woman! Now help me!”

“Where are you?”

“The Red Door.”

“Go back out there with her and act normal. God, you
owe me.”

I walk nervously back to the table, apprehensive of
exactly what I’ve just put into play. “Sorry about that, there was a line,” I
mutter to my date.

There was a line?
I suck at covert ops. If I
manage to not blurt out a confession of “the plan” before Whitley gets here
it’ll be a miracle.

Her big, freakishly large man hand keeps inching
closer and closer to mine on the table, so I shove my hands in my lap. I don’t
see an Adam’s apple, but I’m still looking—it’s gotta be there somewhere. Then,
all at once, the heavens open and the angels scream.

“Evan Allen, how could you?”

Splash! Cold ice water to the face. What the hell?! I
don’t know that props were completely necessary, but who am I to complain? I
pick up my napkin and wipe my face, eyes clearing to see Whitley standing over
our table, glaring.

“Who is she?” she points at my date.

“Um—”

“Don’t even try it!” she screeches. “You promised! No
more cheating!”

Man, Bennett better look out, ‘cause Whitley could
easily steal her spot in the drama club. Look at those big, fake crocodile
tears. Note to self—Whitley can cue waterworks on a dime.

She pulls out a chair and throws herself down,
slamming her hands on top of the table. “Why, honey? Why? We just made love
before you left! Aren’t I enough?”

Everyone in this restaurant is staring at us now,
and my date, well she’s…she’s leaving! But not before her water lands in my
face. Small price to pay.

I finish wiping my face, again, and hesitantly peek
over my napkin, scared this isn’t over yet.

“She’s gone,” Whitley says, voice back to normal,
tears gone as quick as they’d appeared.

“Damn, Whit, that was something,” I say in shocked,
but tickled, gratitude. “Thanks, though.”

“You’re welcome. Now what’d she order? I’m eating
hers and you’re still paying.”

D
ate #2: the next Friday night

Conspirator: Avery

Girl: Rae

Stats: After my last date, Avery assures me the name
“Rae” was not because she was in any way now, or previously, a dude, and is in
fact a very nice girl from one of her study groups.

Problems: I almost don’t believe it myself.

Rae is pretty with a big smile and straight white
teeth. Her hands are proportioned perfectly to her body and gender, which is
also very attractive, more so than ever. We met up at the campus library, where
she aides, and had a nice, easy conversation from there to my truck.

I’m actually having a pretty good time and even
starting to relax while we wait for our food. Do I feel any five-alarm
chemistry? No, but she’s pleasant, and maybe I could see her again.

When our food arrives, I ask her if she wants to try
some of my lasagna, which she eagerly does, then offers me some of her Alfredo.
We don’t feed each other or anything, just scoot our plates toward one another,
but it’s still nice.

I still can’t believe I’m just starting to date. I’m
almost twenty years old and never dated? Well, she lived three houses
down…that’s exactly how that happened. She didn’t like to go to the theater,
our town didn’t have a bowling alley and…no other girl within miles compared to
her. This is crazy; I’m grown and need to snap the hell out of all these feely
schmeely BS thoughts, so I scoot my chair a little closer to Rae’s, leaning in,
smiling and laughing a bit more at things she says.

And then…she covers her mouth and tips her chair over
in her jump and run to the bathroom, calling a barely audible “I’ll be right
back!”

Shit. I hope the shrimp wasn’t bad. Do I go ahead
and eat? Do I go check on her? I really have no idea what the right answer is,
so I sit there until the waitress comes over to check on me. “My date’s not
feeling well. Can you bring the check?” I ask her.

“Certainly. I hope she feels better.”

She’s laying the tray with the slip on the table
when Rae comes back and sits down, her eyes watery and face chalky.

“Are you okay?” I know she’s not, I can smell the
hint of vomit from here, but you’re supposed to ask, right?

“Oh, I’ll be fine now. Is that the check? We don’t
have to leave. I won’t get sick again for a while.”

She knows when she’ll get sick? My money is on some
weird make yourself throw up thing. Oh, and I also wish she’d quit talking,
because her breath is not okay. There will be no goodnight kiss happening.

The waitress shoots me a questioning look and
shuffles away as Rae merrily starts eating again.

“Do you think it was the food? Maybe you shouldn’t
eat any more of it,” I suggest.

“The food’s fine,” she assures me, “finish yours.
It’s just morning sickness, except mine comes at night. It’ll go away in a few
more weeks.”

Come again?

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. This is
the kind of shit that happens to Deuce Bigalow or victims on those punking
shows, not real life schmucks like me. I’m tempted to look around for cameras.

“I’m sorry, what?” I choke out through a sweating
throat.

“Don’t worry,” she grins and pats my hand, “me and
the dad are broken up.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re so over.”

“You’re pregnant?” I’m not sure if I cough or laugh
really.

“Yeah, Avery didn’t tell you?”

That’d be a big hell no.

“No, no she didn’t mention it.”

“Huh, well I am, but that’s not gonna stop me from
finding Mr. Right.”

No, really, camera guys, go ahead and jump out.
Right now. Please.

D
ate #3- Kiss my ass, not happening.

No way, no how. I could stand some real good company
though.

Evan: Whatcha doing?

Whitley: Painting my toenails. You?

Evan: Nothing. Zach wants the room 2nite and I’m
done dating. Wanna hang out?

Whitley: Wish I could but I’ve actually got plans
later. Raincheck?

Evan: Sure, I’ll holler at you later. Have a fun
night.

Whitley: U2, night.

Evan: night.

What’s she doing later? Does she have a date? Nope—this
is none of my business. I’m the one who declared we wouldn’t go
there
. We’re
just friends. I have her rescuing me from dates…time to sleep in the bed I
made.

Or the bed my mom made. I’m packed and on the road
in 15 minutes, headed home for the weekend.

“
S
hit, man, stop talking or I’m gonna piss
myself.”