Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (18 page)

Nope, not gonna ask…keep walking, Evan.

Chapter 21

Crazy

~Evan~

“
D
ude, give it up, you’re never gonna be as
big as me.” Sawyer grins and kisses his bicep.

“I’m pretty sure only the football team’s allowed in
here.” I put down the weights and move to the leg machine. He’s right, my arms
will never be as big as his, even though I work out non-stop these days, but I
know I’ve got him in leg strength, so I’m gonna work those while he’s here;
kinda an ego thing.

“Nobody else will be down here at ten o’clock on a
Friday, Evan. They have lives. Pretty sure it’s safe.”

“I have a life.”

“No man, you don’t. Your first year of college is gonna
be over before you know it and what do you have to show for it?”

“A 3.6?”

He whistles. “And what else?”

“A football jersey.”

“You know what I mean. You don’t go out, you don’t
hang with the Crew, and you even quit coming to the softball games. You don’t
date, no one ever sees you. What gives?”

“Nothing.” I press out twenty-five reps before going
on, trying to quell some of the aggression his accusatory words are building up
in me. “I go home on the weekends to help Parker, class during the week, football
stuff; just been busy.”

“So how about tomorrow night? I got a double date
lined up for us.”

“No.”

“Wait a second, hear me out.”

“No.”

“Come on, you’ll have fun, I swear!”

“Sawyer,” I stand and wipe my face with a towel, “I’ve
decided there are no normal girls on this campus. I can’t even imagine what
would be wrong with the next one. I have had my fortune told by the crypt
keeper, fed another man’s fetus and I’m pretty sure I went out with a dude! I
said no!”

“I’m sorry.” He covers his face and turns his head,
trying to hide his laughter.

“You done?”

“Sorry,” he turns, under control now, “one more try,
come on. You let Zach and Avery set you up, give me a chance. Listen, if
there’s anything super wrong with this girl, I’ll let you kick my ass.”

“Have you met the girl?”

He nods. “Many times.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Have you slept with
her?”

“Not even close.”

“Do you know anything you’re not telling me? Like
she’s transsexual, pregnant, into voodoo, drinks blood, is married, has three
nipples or
anything
else that
might
strike you as odd?”

“Nothing like that.” He clutches his side as he
loses the fight to keep a straight face. “Seriously though, totally normal. And
hot.”

“You had me at normal. I’m not kidding though,
Sawyer, one weird thing and I’ll stand up and walk out, then take you up on
kicking your ass.”

“Deal.” He sticks out his hand for a shake.
“Allister’s at seven, cool?”

“I’m not picking her up?”

“Nah, they’ll meet us there.”

D
ate #4

Conspirator—Sawyer

Girl—Jenee

Stats—Sawyer and details? All he can positively
attest to is that “she’s normal” and he hasn’t slept with her.

Problems- Nothing will phase me

“Why do you keep checking your phone for the time?
Sawyer, I swear to God, if these are by the hour girls—”

“Relax, man, I don’t have to pay for hookers.
Neither do you, fool.”

“So
are
they hookers?”

I think my paranoia is totally justified,
considering.

“No, and shut up, mine just walked in.” He stands
and pushes his chair back, walking over to greet a voluptuous bottled-blonde.
Everything about her and her cheetah print pants screams “Sawyer.” He pulls out
her chair, then something catches his eye briefly before he looks at me and
smiles. “You’re welcome. Turn around.”

On pins and needles, I slowly stand and turn, ready to
greet my next tragic date and grip the back of my chair to steady myself.  My
date is beautiful—long brown hair, dark, catlike eyes and a sexy but subtle
outfit.

“Hi, I’m Evan.” I offer my hand.

“Jenee,” she
says
, just says. She doesn’t
giggle it, or say it with invitation dripping off it, and her handshake is just
firm enough to let me know she’s there.

I pull out her chair and awkwardly say, “You know
Sawyer,” because I don’t know if he told me his date’s name or not, and I
absolutely don’t want to chance a guess.

“Hey, J, this is Hailey,” Sawyer introduces his date
who either needs to sneeze or doesn’t return Jenee’s greeting very nicely. I don’t
try to guess that either, but when no sneeze comes, I think she might not like
Sawyer knowing Jenee.
Have fun with that one, buddy!

We settle in, just some light small talk and me
arranging my silverware nervously, giving Jenee a smile every so often when
good ol’ Hailey goes and breaks awkward all out of its case by pouring herself
into Sawyer’s lap. This restaurant seems too nice for lap sitting; I mean, they
provide high-backed, cushioned chairs, enough for everyone to have their own,
but she doesn’t seem to care. She
does
seem to think Sawyer needs his
tonsils checked, which she is currently doing a very good job of…you know, in a
restaurant.

“So…” I clear my throat loudly, trying to ignore the
spectacle across from me. “Jenee, do you go to Southern?”

“I did.” She tries to smile, her eyes flicking from me
to
them
on their accord.

I understand, really. It’s like a car wreck; you
don’t
like
looking at it, you know you’re probably gonna see something
gruesome, and yet…your eyes are drawn like bugs to a light.

“You go there, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, I transferred this semester from UGA.”

“I heard that too. And you play football?”

I nod, taking a sip of my water as our waitress
approaches.

“S-sir,” she stammers, but a quick glance confirms
she isn’t speaking to me. “Sir,” she insists, louder this time, tapping Sawyer
on the shoulder.

Jenee and I sit silently, watching the whole tacky-but-hilarious
scene unfold. Another sharp tap to the shoulder and Sawyer finally breaks free
to acknowledge the waitress.

“Oh, hey.” He throws her his best smile. “Take a
seat, darlin’,” he encourages Hailey, moving her to her own chair.

 “What are you guys having?” he asks us, just as
normal as can be.

“I’ll have a glass of house red please,” Jenee addresses
the waitress politely.

I wait for Hailey to order her drink, but she’s busy
with a mirror and replacing the lip gloss she’d lost to Sawyer’s face, so I go
ahead. “I’ll just have a Coke, please.”

Once she collects the other drink orders, a beer and
a Pink Squirrel, our waitress leaves.

Hailey is now sufficiently primped and ready to
participate in conversation. “So, Jenny, how do you know Sawyer?”

Here we go.

“It’s
Jenee
, and from work. You?”

“Me what?” Hailey pops her gum loudly.

I’m just shocked she came away with her gum.

“How do you know Sawyer?” Jenee’s voice is polite,
but screams “keep up.”

“Here and there.” She snickers, leaning over to bury
her face in his neck, one hand disappearing under the tablecloth.

By the grace of God, our drinks arrive and we place
our orders while Sawyer mauls the basket of bread just delivered. Jenee pushes
back her chair, excusing herself to the ladies’ room, so I stand to help her.
As I do, I see her.

Across the restaurant, looking like a vision in a
light pink (of course) top, her hair down around her shoulders, is Whitley.
Sitting across from her, looking like a goon, is some preppy little worm in a
suit.
A suit.

“I’ll be right back,” Jenee says, jerking my
attention back to her.

“R-right, okay,” I stammer, consumed by my thoughts.

When Jenee has turned the corner, I look to Sawyer.
“Hey, I see Whitley over there. I’m gonna go say hi real quick.”

I’m off before he can give me shit about it, which
he undoubtedly would. She looks up as I approach, quickly forcing her shocked
face into a grin. “Evan, hi, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug, “eating. I saw you, thought
I’d come say hi.”

“I’m glad you did. Evan, this is Thad Conner. Thad,
Evan Allen,” she introduces us.

Thad?
That’s not a real name.

He stands, placing his napkin that he had in his
lap, need I say more, on the table. He offers me his hand with a “Thad Conner.”

She just told me that, dumbass, I know your name.

“Evan Allen, still.” I raise one brow as I squeeze
the shit out of his hand. “Well,” I focus on Whitley, “I better let you two get
back to your date. See ya later, Whit.”

She starts to say something but I walk away, not at
all happy, and not at all sure that my face won’t give away that fact if I stay
any longer. Here I am, on a pretty decent date, mad that Whitley’s on one too? Nothing
like painting yourself into a corner…forcing yourself to date everyone but the
girl who you don’t like seeing date anyone but you. The whole “having your cake
and eating it too” adage comes to mind, but that makes me think of cake;
shortcake, in particular, with strawberries, that Whitley made me.

Not helping.

Jenee’s already back in her seat when I arrive at
our table, so I apologize, explaining I saw a friend and wanted to say a quick
hello. I don’t mention the friend is a tiny blonde who hums and digs worms and
makes me cake and needs a real man who doesn’t own a fucking tie to swoop her
up…no, I just say friend. She dismisses it easily, not bothered, much to my relief.

For 2.3 seconds. Until Sawyer speaks.

He smirks. “Who’s Whitley here with?”

“Her date,” I grind out, offering Jenee an
apologetic smile, ready to kill Sawyer for having the biggest damn mouth in
Georgia. I grab a roll, amazed there’s one left with “Mouth of the South” sitting
across from me and all, and begin to butter it, welcoming anything else to
concentrate on.

Music blares out of nowhere, a song I’ve never heard,
thankfully, ‘cause it’s terrible, and Jenee scrambles to fish her phone from
her purse. “Sorry, I have to take this,” she barely offers before excusing
herself again.

Offended? Not a bit…this looks like a big ol’
opportunity to me. I whip out my own phone, firing off the first shot.

Evan: Do you need me to come rescue you? I owe
you one.

Answer, come on, time’s a wastin’.

Whitley: No, I’m fine. Are you on a date? Texting
me in front of her would not be okay.

Evan: She had a phone call.

Shit. See what she did there? Got me to admit I’m
on a date. Tricky female.

Evan: Thad is not a real name. I looked it up.

Whitley: Stop it.

Evan: You know what needs to stop? His ears
growing. WAY too big for his beanie head.

I hear her laughter across the restaurant, like a
siren’s call. Above the noise, dishes clanging in the back, all else, I hear
her laugh.

Evan: Funny AND true.

Whitley: Maybe a little.

“Here she comes, man, put that away. Work
with
me, dammit,” Sawyer warns in a low voice.

I shove my phone in my pocket and stand just as Jenee
approaches. I pull out her chair for her, leaning
way
back to catch a
peek at Whitley, who’s giving me a thumb’s up. I chuckle; Whitley’s being kind,
approving of Jenee when it’s
her
that’s clearly the most radiant girl in
the place.

“Everything all right?” I ask as I push her up to
the table.

“Oh yes, fine. My roommate had a bad night, needed a
little talking off the ledge. I’m sorry about that.”

“No worries, that’s nice she has you.”

And I text bombed the lovely lass across the way
the whole time you were gone.

“Thank God! My stomach was eating itself.” Sawyer’s
boisterous announcement earns an eye roll from our waitress as she settles the
stand and tray, serving our dinners.

Jenee and I barely speak through the meal, but talk
about the other side of the pendulum…Hailey is feeding Sawyer off her fork and
wiping his mouth after each bite. Oh, and let’s not forget the kiss after every
swipe of the napkin. It’s so nauseating I can barely choke down a mouthful and Jenee
is fidgeting so much she’s either as uncomfortable as I am or she has worms.

“Sawyer!” I finally bark. “Enough! You know how to
use a fork, I’ve seen you do it.”

“You testy fucker, you need to get laid,” he mocks
me with a snarky wink. “You heard him, sweet thang, eat your own dinner and I’ll
eat mine,” he directs his doting date.

“Thank you,” Jenee says under her breath.

Hailey takes turns between pouting and glaring at
me, Sawyer biting back a smirk at my obvious discomfort to her scrutiny. He and
I are gonna have to have a talk soon about the difference between a little PDA
and all out porno previews.