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“Good.”
“You know, I was a little worried you’d friend-zoned me.”
“Really?” he asks. And there’s something in his tone. Something not quite right.
Wait. Did that sound bad? I think that sounded bad. What if he thinks I only want him for sex? Like only his ridiculously hot body matters to me. Shit. “Not that being just your friend wouldn’t be wonderful and fulfilling. I just hoped maybe we’d become more than that, you know? But friendship with people is great too and we all need someone at our back. Especially during hard times like these. Attraction isn’t everything. That we can spend time together just chatting and getting to know one another is great. And we laugh a lot together, right? We enjoy each other’s company. Which is really important to me, I want you to know that.”
Nothing from him.
“Evan?”
“Are you finished freaking out there or did you want to reassure me some more?”
“I just didn’t want you to think that…you know. Don’t tease me, you brute. I’m stressed out enough as it is.”
He chuckles some more. “I live to tease you. And I don’t think that. Relax, sweetheart. We both have a strong desire to be intimate with each other and that’s a beautiful and natural thing. It’s what adults do to express a deep and abiding affection—they get naked and bang each other’s brains out.”
“Aw. More romance. Have you ever considered writing poetry? I think you have a gift.”
“You do? Let me see,” he says, making a noise in his throat. A thinking noise. “How about this? Roses are red, Sadie likes blue, you’re not going to walk straight for a week, once I get my hands on you.”
I almost fall off the sofa from laughing so hard. “Oh my God, Evan.”
“You like it?”
“That’s hilarious. And you wish, big boy. I have seen nothing yet to make me think you’re packing all that. I think someone’s been fawned over by one too many cheerleaders.”
And then there’s another one of those silences. Awkward and long. Either I’m the worst conversationalist in history or there’s something going on.
“Shit,” he finally mumbles. And he sounds so sad. Like all of the happiness and good times have been sucked straight out of his world. I’ve seen him happy and grumpy and several degrees between. But this is something entirely different. “Sadie, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“What?”
“You’re probably going to see things on social media once the test results get released, anyway. Better that you hear it from me.”
“Hear what from you?”
“I guess hearing about your dad getting sick and all, you haven’t gotten around to Googling me, huh?”
“No, I haven’t. I don’t know that I would have. It seems kind of invasive. I’ve had the occasional overzealous fan try to track me down and things like that. Respecting people’s privacy matters. Anything I need to know about, I’d rather hear it from you than read it online. Whatever it is. Evan, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Just…try and keep an open mind, okay?”
For the next hour Evan dumps a shit storm of epic proportions on me. It’s so heartbreaking I feel chewed up, spit on, and tossed out like yesterday’s garbage and it didn’t even happen to me.
Poor Evan.
We end the conversation with the promise to call one another tomorrow but I can tell he’s concerned with how I’m going to stew on the story he shared.
The reason he’s in hiding. The reputation-destroying image splashed across the media. Being roofied. The steroids found in his locker. Him being set up. It’s all so much. Far more than I ever anticipated he’d be managing alone, in complete silence, locked away in a home not of his own. Add the virus, the uncertainty hovering over everyone’s heads right now like a dark cloud, and you’ve got dire straits.
Evan has hit rock bottom and right now it seems I’m the only good thing in his life.
A heavy place to be.CHAPTER 8
QUARANTINE: DAY 8
SADIEZahra: He says the girl drugged him and someone placed steroids in his locker?
Me: Exactly. And this is top secret, Zahra. You cannot repeat a word of this to anyone. He’s trusting me not to sell him out to the press and loose lips sink ships. But I had to talk about it to someone and you’re my best friend.
Zahra: My lips are sealed. Don’t worry. The press is certainly skewering him. Some of these articles are damning as all hell. Goes to show how fast you can go from golden boy to the gutter.
Me: I know. I saw. I mean, how could I not after he told me everything? They’re so cruel the way they’re tearing his reputation apart.
Zahra: They’re just doing their job and trying to sell ad space.
Me: Yeah, I guess. Do they have to be so overzealous about it though? Kind of makes me wonder how some of them sleep at night. The way they jump to all of these conclusions and how willing they are to write off his whole career. Even releasing the results from the drug test hasn’t convinced all of them. God knows how it’ll blow up if they find out about the stuff in his locker.
