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He seems confused for a second, probably trying to understand if I'm serious. I chuckle at his confusion, and he relaxes.
“Elijah,” he finally says, holding out his hand for a shake.
I shake his hand. “Evangeline.”
“Evangeline,” he repeats my name. The way his voice tests every syllable sends a strange shiver down my spine.
Clearing my throat, I focus on the glass in my hand instead of staring at him, but my eyes turn to him when he holds a lighter in front of me while the flame dances softly.
“You don’t have a candle, so this will have to do,” he explains. “Make a wish, Evangeline.”
I wish to love and be loved, I think to myself and blow out the flame.
“And now, please eat the damn cupcake,” he commands, and I giggle, taking a bite from the cupcake.
He smiles at me sweetly, and it warms my heart. As strange as it may sound, I feel close to him like we’ve known each other more than just a few minutes. I guess that’s why I offer him some of my cupcake, but I don’t know why I suddenly feel flustered when he actually bites down from exactly where my mouth was a few seconds ago. And I don’t know why I’m now thinking of licking the cream from his lips.
Shaking myself from the thought, I ask him, “Are you new in Madison Grove?”
“Yes. This bar is my first stop in the town actually.”
“Oh, you’ve just arrived?”
&nb
sp; “Yeah.”
“From where?”
"Seattle. I'll start a job here tomorrow. I should've come a few days ago, but my dick of a boss didn't let me leave the Diner early," he complains.
Bumping my shoulder to his, I say, “To new beginnings here, then.”
He turns his head slightly. His lips caress my cheek, and I shiver when his breath hits my ear as he repeats. “To new beginnings.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. My eyes dart from his mouth to his captivating eyes. I feel my cheeks heat up. Clearing my throat, I lean back so I can put some distance between us. I’m afraid he’ll hear my racing heartbeat. He gives me a knowing smile, like what I’m feeling is written all over my face. Turning on my bar stool, I try to focus on the people dancing, but my traitorous eyes keep darting back to him. And to my delightful surprise, his eyes lock with mine every time while he gives me his sexy smile.
My body is buzzing with sweet excitement I’ve never felt with anyone before. My lips curl into a shy smile with his attention locked on me.
Finally, he breaks the silence filled with awkward tension, and exciting anticipation. "Would you like to dance with me, Birthday Girl?"
I only nod. At that moment, there’s nothing else I’d rather do.
1
Eva
Home versus a house.
There’s a difference between the two words. One represents warmth and love while the other is nothing but a cold building with four walls. After what happened years ago, I learned how quickly a home can turn into just another house. And the truth of this is the first thing that punches me in the face every morning.
But this morning it's so much stronger. I felt like Cinderella in that bar for a few hours last night, and now, I'm back to my miserable life. I sit on my bed for longer than usual, my eyes fixed on the bare wall in front of me and replay the night before. It was the best birthday I've had in a long time. I don't know how to explain it, but that stranger, Elijah, somehow filled a void inside me even if it was only for a few hours. We danced, drank, and danced again. I saw the desire in his eyes, and I wanted to bring him home last night, but I didn't want to give myself to someone just because I was sad on my birthday… again. The last time didn't play out well, and I didn't want to put a stain on last night's sweet memory.
With a sigh, I lock the memory inside my mind along with a handful of other happy memories and head for the shower.
After putting on my school uniform, I walk along hallways of the Faye Mansion. If you walk every room, every hallway in this old beast, you wouldn't need to worry about doing your morning workout. But it's not the reason why I'm walking through the empty rooms, I'm trying to find something to make this house feel like a home again. The way it once was. Now, caressing the vanity table in the master bedroom, the only sign of someone's existence in the room is the faint citrus scent from my mother's perfume.
Grabbing the bottle of the perfume, I spray a wisp under my ears. I’ve heard about the scent of a mother and how it reminds people of home; for me, this perfume is the only thing that links me to my mother and the house I live in.
