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Stephen took a slow sip of his coffee, making me regret my decision to wait. “And you’ve held the grudge for two years?”
“Well, he made it easy by being a dick every time we came in contact.”
“Why didn’t you retaliate?”
I pursed my lips. “Kayleigh asked me not to. She told me later it was the best thing that could have happened to her—forcing her to get help. I still think I could have gotten her there without making her crash and burn.”
He shook his head. “Eva, I love you, but you can’t fix everyone.”
“I can try,” I muttered.
Stephen scrubbed a hand down his face in a familiar gesture of frustration. “How did you end up living with your nemesis?”
“He offered me a room at a low moment. Henry needs stability, and I need my pillowtop mattress.” I wasn’t going to share the details of the deal Gavin and I had made. We hadn’t discussed keeping it secret, but I wasn’t eager to explain how he’d one upped me in negotiations. Or how I’d started the encounter by throwing myself at him.
Stephen eyed me as if he knew I was holding something back—he probably did—but he let it go in favor of teasing me mercilessly. “Does that mean you have the potential to see him naked?”
“No. We’re sharing a house not a bedroom.” I added the events from last night to my list of things to never speak of again.
“Too bad,” he muttered. “Well, then the potential to see him coming fresh out of the shower in maybe just a towel? Lots of chest showing. All those muscles glistening with?—”
“Stephen.”
“Right. I got distracted there.” He squinted at me. “Are you happy with the situation?”
“It's fine. It's great. Life is great. Henry's great. Everything's great.”
“Sounds great,” he deadpanned. Then he waited for me to spit out the truth.
I groaned and dropped my head in my hands. “Am I insane? Is this what crazy feels like? I mean, I could just ask my parents and they would buy me a house or a yacht or something that I could live in. Would it really be so bad to let them know I'm homeless?”
“Yes. Yes, it would. After their come to Jesus talk at the end of the summer, you made that stupid dating agreement with your dad to get him to back off. He was only worried about your lack of appropriate prospects for a future Mr. Evangeline Adams. What do you think Daddy is going to demand if he knew you were flirting with the hobo life? Play the game, girl. Sidenote: definitely don’t mention the four very male roommates.”
I’d managed to avoid thinking about the dating agreement while I focused on the housing problem, but Dad wouldn’t wait much longer before calling it in. Now that he’d decided he wanted to be a senator, he needed his family to fall in line with the right optics, which meant his wild cheerleading daughter needed to be paired off with a stable partner who could control her.
Good luck to him. No one controlled me except me.
I ignored Stephen’s advice because of course I wasn’t going to tell my parents I was living with half a hockey team. “I have a prospect for the future Mr. Evangeline Adams. I have you.”
“You don't have me.”
“Yes, I do. You promised me in the eleventh grade you would marry me if we both hit thirty and hadn’t married anyone else. Or if my parents forced me into something.”
He finished his coffee and set the mug out of sight behind him. “Your parents can't force you into anything unless you let them. Dating young, rich,acceptablemen—and your parents and I disagree heavily on the definition of that term—shouldn’t be too much of a hardship for you. Get the suitors out of the way and enjoy your time with the hockey hotties, even the one you claim to hate. Nothing is too hard if you’re willing to accept help from other people.”
“I know that.” I chewed on my lower lip and stared out at the azaleas, nonplussed at the idea of things getting so bad I’d let someone else have a say in my life. “I’m not doing a fantastic job of taking care of myself lately. What if I graduate and find out I’m not a badass outside of TU?”
Stephen sighed. “Look at me.”
I shifted my unhappy gaze to his, and he shook his head.
“No, not like that. You look sad and depressed. Pretend you're giving someone a pep-talk, like when you do that jersey thing with all your athlete friends.”
I huffed out a breath and straightened my shoulders, resigned to Stephen's help.
He gave a sharp nod. “Better. You are going to crush the shit out of your assistantship and your dating life and your new housing situation. You're going to graduate with honors, and you're going to go out into the business world and make everyone your bitch.”
I raised a brow. “You have no idea what my goals actually are, do you?”
