Anais
Slumped against the door of the town car, I’m in a daze, embarrassed and humiliated as the reality of what Evan just did hits me. True to form and like the coward Evan is, the moment real feelings become involved, he pushed me away. I knew it could happen. I just didn’t expect it. Not after everything.
From the moment, I woke up cocooned in his strong arms, I sensed the shift. The air felt different, charged. Evan had grown distant – indifferent, cold – nothing like the man who whispered soft words as he held me in the shower, just hours before. And then he made love to me. I might not be experienced but I knew the difference. And that wasnotour usual primal, intense, kinky sex, no. This was slow, tender, loving. Evan Maxwell made love to me, saying everything with his body he couldn’t say with words.
And now that I know what that felt like, he’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands before I willingly give him up.
I’ve known for years that what I feel for Evan is more than a silly crush. Love feels too small of a word. Whatever this thing is between us, it feels more. Something vast. Transcendent. Otherworldly. Bigger than either of us. Maybe even bigger than we’re capable of understanding.
As much as Evan likes to act indifferent, pretend nothing has changed, I knew better. Sure, he all but kicked me out of his penthouse, with some excuse about having things to do, but I saw the panic in his eyes. The look on his face said it all. Realization. He knew as well as I did. We were in deep. Something neither of us could come back from. Whereas I wasbrave enough to face our feelings. Evan thought he could run from them.
Despite doing everything to keep me at a distance, to keep me from seeing too much, Evan had let his guard down. And like a tenacious little brat, I walked straight in, relentless and as curious as ever. I saw everything he never wanted me to see. But instead of facing me like an adult, he defaulted to cold and indifference, kicking me out because he can’t handle his emotions.
If I hadn’t seen his turmoil in his eyes, the alarm, I might be more upset by his dismissal. But I know better now. I’m not that naïve anymore. And as tempting as it is to gaslight myself into believing I’m imagining this, I know I’m not.
Evan Maxwell feels something. And he’s running from it. I’ll let him for now. Let him process. But make no mistake, he will face this. He will talk to me about this.
The car comes to a stop. I glance up and see we’ve arrived at my building. Sighing, I grab my purse and dress, just as Philip opens the door. “Thank you, Philip,” I murmur, as I step out the vehicle.
“It was my pleasure, Miss Lauder. Have a good day.” He smiles warmly.
As I move past him, I catch my reflection in the glass doors and falter. I glance down. Heels, Evan’s sweatpants and white dress shirt. Along with the purse, and dress in hand, I’m the walking embodiment of a cliché. The walk of shame. I roll my eyes and step inside, needing to get off the street.
I greet the concierge and security with red cheeks and a quick nod, then as fast as I can in these pumps, I walk to the elevator. My muscles lock down as I step in, and I swallow down the rising panic. The moment the doors close, I lean against the mirrored wall and squeeze my eyes shut, imagining Evan’s beside me, his lips at the crook of my neck,whispering words of comfort into the space he’s quietly claimed. The elevator dings. I rush out as soon as the doors open, sucking in air as I hurry down the hall. Outside my unit, I punch in the code and step inside.
A strange sense of dread creeps over me as I scan my apartment. Everything looks fine, nothing out of place, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Like someone’s been here. I shake the thought away, letting out a long breath of air. There’s no way. The code. The security… And reception must obtain approval from residents before granting any unauthorized guests access to the elevators, let alone higher floors.
“Jesus, get it together, Anais. You’re being paranoid,” I mumble to myself. This stuff with Evan must be getting to me more than I realized. I snort. Actually, who am I kidding. I know exactly how much that asshole’s getting to me.
I head straight to my bedroom, dropping my purse down on the dresser, slipping off my shoes, and tossing the dress into the laundry bin. As I strip out of Evan’s clothes, his scent envelopes me and for a moment, I hesitate. Like a weirdo, I breathe in his familiar scent, letting it calm me.
Why do I feel so on edge?
Groaning, I toss his clothes onto my bed instead of the bin and head to the shower. I scrub every inch of my body clean and wash my hair. Then I step out, brush my teeth and towel off. Like a deviant, Evan’s sweatpants and shirt go back on, and within minutes I’m buried under the sheet and setting my alarm.
My head hits the pillow.
And it isn’t long before sleep pulls me under.
The blare of my alarm drags me from sleep. With a groan, I blindly reach for my phone on my nightstand, finally locating it and silencing the alarm. I could easily sleep for another couple of hours, but it’s already nearly five and my brother will be here at six to take me to our parents’.
Yawning, I wipe the sleep from my eyes and unlock my phone to check my notifications. Apart from a message from Lana, asking me how I’m doing, one from Mom excited about dinner, Harrison confirming he’ll be outside my building at six and an Instagram alert… with that nauseating photo of Evan and his ex-girlfriend, there’s nothing else to see.
My heart clenches as I stare at the photo. I scan every inch of it, seeing it in a completely different light than I did just last night. Though Valentina clings to Evan, the slight curl of his lips is one of disdain rather than affection.
With a weary sigh, I close the app, silently praying I never have to see that image again. I can admit, I’m jealous. More than jealous. My jealousy burns. But it’s more than that. It’s possessiveness. I’ve always felt it with Evan, and now that we’ve been intimate, it’s only intensified. If I’m being honest, I don’t see that changing. Not now. Not ever.
Pulling up my message thread with Lana, I shoot her a quick response.
Me: I’m good, just tired. Long night. You okay?
My best friend must’ve been holding her phone because the message bubble appears straight away.
Lana: Like you, tired. What the hell was that last night? Evan went full on caveman. I think he’s in love.
Rolling my eyes, I snort to myself.
Me: Not in love. Just being his usual asshole self. I’m just getting ready to have dinner with my parents. I’ll call you tomorrow.
