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“Sky...” He breathes out, his voice laced with an emotion I can’t pinpoint.
Even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel his gaze burning a hole right through me. When I don’t react, he says my name again, falling like a plea from his lips. The deep timber of his voice sends chill bumps shooting down my arms.
“Skylar, look at me.”
When I finally lock eyes with him, I’m met with a pained expression. His brows are pinched together, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine.
“Youare not an inconvenience. This situation is inconvenient, but not you. Not ever. Don’t you dare put words in my mouth, especially when they concern you.”
My breath hitches when he lifts his hand, almost like he wants to cup the side of my face. His eyes fall to my lips before a terrified expression flashes across his beautiful face. He pulls his hand away like lightning, wrapping it around the steering wheel.
“But you said—”
“I know what I said, Skylar,” he sighs. “I’m sorry if that’s how you interpreted it, but I didn’t mean it that way.” His throat bobs as he swallows, fixing a serious but tender gaze on me.
“This road trip is inconvenient. This weather is inconvenient. But you? You’re not an inconvenience. Not to me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding my head.
Everett’s eyes search mine, making sure that I fully understand his words. When traffic starts to move again, he slowly tears his gaze back to the road, so slowly that I think it physically pains him to look away and break our trance.
Everett’s fingers reach for the dashboard as he turns up the playlist we’ve been listening to. I actually enjoy his taste in music, a soothing mixture of indie and folk bands. Music is such a personal form of art, sweet melodies holding little pieces of your soul. It feels intensely intimate to be in the forced proximity of Everett’s truck, listening to all ofhisfavorite songs. It makes me feel closer to him somehow, like we’re making up for lost time.
When the current track ends, the next song starts flooding through the speakers, causing me to lose my breath. I think my heart stops beating. All the air escapes my lungs as I forget how to breathe.
Why does he have this song on his personal playlist? Has he forgotten?
Tongue Tiedby Grouplove. A song I haven’t been able to listen to in damn near three years. A song that holds way too much meaning. As I’m trying to understand why Everett would have this song on his playlist, he immediately punches his finger on the skip button, quickly changing the song.
Okay, so he definitely didn't forget. He knows how personal this song is to us, yet he willingly decided to put it on his playlist. But why?I feel like I could throw up.
“You still listen to Grouplove?” I ask weakly.
He clears his throat before responding. “Yeah, why wouldn't I?”
Don’t bullshit me, Everett.
“You know why.”
“Can we not do this right now?” He speaks so low that I can barely hear his words.
“Are we going to avoid it for the rest of our lives, Everett? Keep dancing around each other like nothing happened?”
He exhales a deep breath, clenching his jaw. “What good will that do us, Skylar? Do you think I want to relive one of the best nights of my life with the only other person who was there to witness it? Don't you think I’ve already had to relive it enough? Don’t you think it fuckingkillsme to see my brother’s ring on your finger?” My heart cracks with each word falling from his lips.
“Rett…” I whisper, reaching across to place my hand on his forearm, because fuck the no-touching rule.
As soon as he feels the heat of my skin, he pulls away as if he’s been burned.He has been burned,I think.
Burned by me.
“Don’t touch me,” he warns in a gravelly tone. “And don’t ask me to talk about the past. That’s all I ask of you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hope he knows that my apology is for so much more than just breaking his rules. If only I had the courage to tell him that I’ve dreamed about jumping in a time machine and making a different choice. I’ve lost countless nights of sleep wondering how different my life would be if I would have chosen him.
His hand freezes when he reaches to turn the volume back up. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he’s debating on if he should say what’s on his mind.
He lets his mind win.
