Page 13 of Under My Skin

Chapter Thirteen

LUCY

I fold the throw blanket and drape it over the back of my brother’s brown leather couch as I take in the apartment around me. I’ve only ever been here for short visits. Usually, I stay at my parents’ house a few minutes away, and Simon would go there to visit with me while I’m in town.

It’s a nice apartment. A little bare, but he certainly takes better care of it than Jasmine is probably taking care of mine. Walking over to the kitchen nook, I open the blinds for the three bay windows and let the morning light shine in, passing through the cracks of multicolor trees.

Simon still hasn’t come out of his room, but I haven’t been able to go back to sleep since seeing Everett this morning.

I’m not taking his room. It feels wrong to put him out when I’m not his guest. I’m not sure I’d even call myself Simon’s guest. He’s just doing me a favor, so I don’t have to be around my parents more than I’d like.

I check the time on my phone again. It’s just after nine. Still plenty of time to see my parents, but late enough to feel the pressure of getting ready and putting things into motion. I wish Simon were awake. If he were out here, I’d at least have a better reason to stall.

I can’t even pinpoint why I’m dreading seeing them so much. Under normal circumstances, I have a good relationship with my parents. Or at least I thought I did. Coming home always felt like a needed break, but now I’m afraid of what I’m walking into.

The front door opens, jolting me from my thoughts.

Everett looks almost foreboding with his dark jeans and jacket, motorcycle helmet held by his side.

It’s his eyes and face that soften him. Nothing about his dark brown eyes feels intimidating.

If anything, they’re sweet. Especially when he tilts his head and points toward the laundry closet. “Did you dry your sheets?”

I shake my head. “They’re not my sheets.”

He makes a sound between a laugh and a scoff as he walks into the kitchen and sets down his helmet. He eyes me with a playful smirk. “Oh, so you’re expecting some type of turn-down service?” He rests his elbows on the counter like he’s pondering the thought. “That’ll cost you extra.”

“No,” I answer deliberately, like speaking slowly might help him understand. “They’re not my sheets because I’m not taking your room.” Without another word, I walk toward the refrigerator next to him and pull it open. Suddenly, getting my day started isn’t such a burden.

Scanning the shelves for something to eat, I’m keenly aware of how close we are. He’s shifted his body in this direction now, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel his eyes locked on me.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, still not looking.

“No,” he answers happily as he gives a light shrug. “I’m just trying to figure out how we’ll both fit on that couch.”

I shut the fridge and turn to face him. “We’re not sharing the couch.”

“Oh, right.” He nods as he stands to his full height.

Since when did Everett Meyers get so tall?

I have to lift my chin just to keep eye contact with him.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Because after you confront your parents about their divorce and potentially get your first tattoo, you’re going to sleep in an actual bed. ”

Is that why he’s doing this? Because he knows today will be a big day? My eyes narrow, searching for his real motive.

He nods with a slight scrunch to his nose like he can read my thoughts. “Trust me, you’ve never gotten a tattoo before. You’re going to want the bed.”

The word why is on the tip of my tongue, but the thought of getting this tattoo later is already making me nauseous.

The last thing I need is to learn something that will scare me out of it.

Will my skin burn all night? Will I bleed?

I guess it would be easier to just wash his sheets again instead of getting blood on the couch. And the same goes for ink. Maybe?

“Only tonight,” I say in a clipped tone.

He grins and then kicks off from the cabinet. “Perfect.” Walking out of the kitchen, he doesn’t look back when he says, “I’m taking a shower. Put your sheets in the dryer.”

But I can’t stop watching him. What the hell just happened? I think I got swindled into taking his room, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

With a scoff only I can hear, I turn on my heels and head toward the laundry closet. If I’m going to sleep in his room tonight, I guess the last thing I need is for the sheets to be damp.

As the dryer runs, I make myself a quick breakfast of Cap’n Crunch because it’s probably the most nutritional thing in my brother’s pantry. Well, either this or a box of Wild Berry Pop-Tarts.

Grabbing my phone off the counter, I send Allison a quick text even though she’s probably getting ready for work.

Lucy:

May the bride have no unrealistic last-minute requests today !

Surprisingly, the three dots come in right away.

Allison:

Ugh too late. All the food she picked for her bridal suite’s breakfast buffet is apparently making her nauseous, so I’m standing in line at Cracker Barrel in Northglenn to pick up her comfort food.

Lucy:

Get yourself an extra coffee while you’re there.

Wait, didn’t she pick all the food for the buffet months ago?

Allison:

Of course she did. But that food followed her wedding diet, and now that she’s here, she wants carbs slathered in syrup. Specifically, from Cracker Barrel.

I huff a laugh, but before I can type my response, another message comes in from her that stops my laughter short.

Allison:

Are you going to see your parents today?

The words alone are enough to make me feel the pressure of getting out of here.

Lucy:

Yeah. I’m leaving Simon’s apartment soon.

I wait for her response. I know I’m stalling. Standing here and waiting for her to text me back feels like the perfect way to delay the inevitable. After a minute, her response comes in.

Allison:

My order is ready, but I love you. And they love you. Call me if you need anything .

She adds a heart emoji to the end of her message, and I close my fingers around my phone a little tighter.

I wish she were here. She and I could have gotten a hotel, drank a bottle of wine last night to help me ramp up my courage, and she’d drive me to my childhood home like a proud mom sending her kid off to school to conquer a bully.

“I don’t know how you and Simon eat that shit.”

I look up to find Everett drying his hair with a towel and leaving it messy.

His eyes are fixed on the bowl on the counter, and mine are locked onto his bare chest as he stands in front of me wearing nothing but dark gray sweatpants.

I desperately will my eyes not to follow the single droplet of water he missed as it slides further down.

It’s only when he tosses the towel in his hand over his shoulder, that I remember to look at his face, his muffled voice coming into focus. “. . . my mouth.”

At the mention, my eyes drop to his mouth, taking in the curve of his lips for a fraction of a second before I blink and shake my head. “Sorry, what?”

Oblivious to my staring, he points at the cereal bowl. “Doesn’t it destroy the roof of your mouth?”

“That’s part of its charm.” I shovel in another bite.

I’m dying to study the tattoos on his chest, but I don’t want to get caught.

There also aren’t as many as I thought there would be.

Something over his heart and another on his lower abdomen, but the rest of his chest is bare.

Swallowing my bite, I shrug in a desperate attempt to recover.

“Not everyone can handle the crunch, I guess.”

He shakes his head with a trace of a smile before he seems to remember why he walked out here with a towel in the first place. “Hey, I’m leaving for the shop in half an hour. Want me to drop you off at your parents’ house?”

I had assumed Simon would take me, so my eyes immediately jump toward his bedroom as I chew, like he might walk out here right when I need him .

Everett looks over his shoulder before pointing his thumb in the same direction. “Yeah . . . if he’s on call, he’ll probably sleep until the city needs him.”

I frown and swallow my bite before bringing my attention back to Everett and his perfect post-shower hair. “Do you still have a car?”

“I have a second helmet,” Everett offers carefully, like he knows exactly what my response will be.

I shake my head and go back to eating. “No.”

He leans his elbows on the counter across from me. “Scared?”

There’s a playfulness to him that I don’t appreciate right now. “No . . .” I answer slowly. “I don’t get on bikes with boys. That would be stupid.”

He grins at my response. Holding a hand to his bare chest, he says, “Is that all I am now? A boy?” Straightening, he shakes his head. “I’ve known you since before you started school, Luce.”

He’s the only one who’s ever called me that.

Even when we were younger, he’d walk in through our kitchen door, nod to me eating a snack, say, “Hey, Luce,” and then go straight to Simon’s room.

I never knew why he did it, but I liked it.

It made me feel like I belonged even though I never spent much time with them.

Now that I’m older, I might like it more. “You’re still of the boy variety,” I answer flatly before taking another bite. The bowl is getting low though, and I’m not sure what I’ll do once I can’t escape this conversation by stuffing my face.

He lets out a bemused laugh, and I bite the side of my cheek to avoid smiling at the sound. “Come on, I’m pushing thirty. At this point, I might as well have ‘safe driver’ stamped on my forehead.”

I eye him warily, taking longer to chew than I need to.

When I don’t respond right away, he pushes back from the counter. “Up to you, but I’m leaving in thirty if you want a ride.”

He holds my stare as he walks a few paces backward, and when my only response is to take another bite, he chuckles and turns back toward his room. I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the ink on his back, but all I can see is that it’s massive.

As soon as he’s gone, I breathe more easily.

I finish my cereal and wash the bowl before grabbing my clothes out of my bag and going into the bathroom to change.

I’m still not sure if I’ll take him up on his offer, but one thing’s for sure, I need to snap out of this haze and clear my head of Everett Meyers.