Page 25 of Under My Skin

Chapter Twenty-Five

LUCY

I want to hug him. And maybe recommend grief therapy, but mostly I just want to hug him.

I can practically see the weight he bears on his shoulders, making everything just a little harder to lift than it should be.

It’s hard to remember what he was like before his dad passed, but I know he was lighter.

They were close. Simon would often hang out in Everett’s garage, and Everett’s dad would teach them everything they needed to know about how to take a bike apart and put it back together—even before either of them could legally ride.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Everett’s voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I look up to find his warm, brown eyes studying me. I wonder how long he’s been watching my brain at work.

My cheeks warm. He’s asking if I’m okay?

I want to ask if he’s okay. Especially after what I did tonight.

I almost grimace at the thought. I don’t know what I was thinking.

I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling a little too empowered by booze and fueled by the adrenaline of sitting on the back of a motorcycle without my anxiety making me hold my breath the entire way home.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice coming out a little rough from the conflicting thoughts.

His eyes fall to my mouth, and I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.

We’re not even sitting face to face, but just having his stare linger on my lips is enough to make me wonder if I’m the only delusional one here, or if he’s feeling something, too.

Is it possible I’ve crossed his mind—even a little bit—in the same way he’s taken over mine?

Then I remember the complete mess I’ve been since getting here, so that’s probably not the case. I doubt Everett has trouble with girls. There’s no way he’d want anything to do with his best friend’s anxious and overly-emotional sister.

His stare lingers a beat longer before he nods and gets to his feet. “Good.” Looking around the room, he adds, “Need anything? Water?”

“Definitely water,” I say with a laugh. “But I can get it myself.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, his thumb already pointing over his shoulder as he takes a step back. Then changing his mind, he rubs the back of his neck and takes another few steps backward toward the door. “Right. Well, good night.”

“Good night.” The smile still lingers on my lips. It’s amazing how he can be adorable one minute and a total sex pot the next.

He gives me a tight-lipped smile before heading out of the room, and my smile fades as soon as he’s out of sight.

Was he nervous? It was cute, sure. But why would he be nervous?

He probably thinks I might try to jump him again if given the chance.

My head falls into my hands, and I let out a quiet groan.

I wish I could ask him about it without dying from embarrassment. Even though he stopped my hands, he didn’t stop them immediately. Was it because he was in shock? Or was part of him enjoying it?

Replaying the ride home in my mind doesn’t do much to help settle my thoughts.

All I end up thinking about are all the alternate endings to that story.

If he hadn’t moved my hands away, what would have happened?

Would I have felt the bulk of him through his jeans?

Would he have kissed me? Pushed me up against the wall?

Had his way with me in this very bed? I wonder what having his way must look like for Everett.

There’s a soft knock on the doorframe, and my head snaps up, guilt warming my cheeks like he might be able to read my filthy thoughts.

“I brought you water.”

Taking the cool glass from his hand, I look up at him and feel like he’s more of a puzzle than ever. “Thanks.”

“I figured the last thing you need is to wake up with a headache tomorrow. You’re going back to your parents’ house, right?” He appraises me with a tilt of his head.

The reminder feels like a splash of cold water. I make a point to smile and lighten my tone. Anything to hide the fact that I was definitely picturing him having his way with me for far too long. “Yeah, I still have to go through my room.” Another sobering reminder.

He nods. “And when are you leaving again? Monday?”

That was the plan originally, but something in my gut wants me to say no.

What would I be rushing back to? My apartment is probably a disaster, and everything here with my parents still feels unfinished.

I doubt I’ll be able to tie up all the loose ends tomorrow alone.

I should have spent more time there today, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I force a small smile. “Why? Already counting down the days until you’ll get your bed back?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “No. I like that you’re in my bed.” I arch my eyebrows, and my reaction makes him hold up a hand before rubbing it over his face. “I just meant I like that you’re here. And you can use my bed as long as you want.”

Laughter bubbles in my throat as I say, “Thanks.” Then remembering to actually answer, I add, “I don’t know how long I’ll stay. I thought I’d visit only for the weekend, but I’m not sure it will be enough time. We’ll see. Maybe a few more days.”

“Your boss won’t mind? ”

I take a sip of water before answering. “I run my own business.”

His eyebrow kicks up in surprise. “No shit?”

I fight a smile at his response and bring the glass to my lips again. “No shit,” I confirm before taking another sip.

“Good for you,” he says, and the thought of impressing him warms something inside me.

Before my cheeks turn a shade darker, I take another sip.

“No boyfriend to get back to?”

His tone was casual, but I almost choke on my water. “No,” I say coughing. “Definitely not.”

He huffs a laugh. “You answered that pretty fast.”

“Have you tried dating lately? Every date I’ve been on this year has just confirmed that there’s something better I could have done with my time.

” Realization hits, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

“Oh my god. Do you have a girlfriend?” The words come out muffled, but I can’t bring myself to move my hand away from my mouth and ask again more clearly.

What if he has a girlfriend? Of course he’d have a girlfriend.

Look at him. And here I am, trying to feel him up on the back of his motorcycle.

“No,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed like he had before. “No girlfriend. Not for a while now.”

Slowly lowering my hands, I remind myself to breathe. “How?” The word slips out without warning, and it takes everything in me not to clap my hands over my mouth again.

His lips lift in amusement. “How?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at opening up to people.”

My eyebrows pinch. I mean, it’s impossible for me to know how much he’s not sharing with me, but I wouldn’t call Everett overly guarded. “You seem pretty open.”

“Yeah. Well, you’re . . .” He frowns. “I don’t know why I tell you things, honestly.”

I pause at his admission. Maybe it’s that vague sense of familiarity. I feel it around him, too. It’s like, even though we haven’t known each other well, there’s still an element of trust.

“You had the same girlfriend for a while, didn’t you?

” I’m not sure why I bring it up. I don’t know anything about her—not even her name.

But Simon would often reference “Everett and his girlfriend.” I never even thought twice about Everett being with someone, but as I sit here with him now, I’m definitely thinking about it.

Did she break his heart? Did he break hers? Have they both moved on?

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighs. “Yeah. After my dad died, I had trouble prioritizing relationships. My dad was excited for me to open the shop, so that’s what I threw myself into.

It made me feel closer to him, and since he was the one I wished I could spend more time with, everyone else sort of fell to the wayside.

” His eyes flick to meet mine, and there’s a fresh vulnerability behind them.

“Makes sense,” I say quietly.

His shoulders relax. “Yeah? Some people didn’t think so.

” He shakes off the thought. “I don’t know.

The less they understood, the less I wanted to be around them.

I know no one wants to be around someone who’s down all the time, but I couldn’t be myself, and it was too exhausting to put up a front. ”

“You’re grieving. You’re allowed to be down.”

Everett opens his mouth to say something but seems to change his mind. Clamping his mouth shut, he just nods. I wonder if he was going to comment on my use of present tense. I know he’s talking about things that happened over a year ago, but he’s still grieving—and he probably will be for a while.

“Have you ever tried grief counseling?” I’m hesitant to ask, but I wonder if no one has suggested it to him this past year.

“No.” A smile teases at the corner of his mouth. “Why? Do you think I should?”

“I mean . . .” I let my words trail, my own smile mirroring his own. “It wouldn’t hurt,” I say with a shrug .

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I probably have no business trying to date anyone right now, anyway.”

A faint smile pulls at my lips. “But you know, putting yourself out there is the first step. Look at that girl who gave you her number tonight. Maybe she would have surprised you.” The thought of him going on a date with anyone has a vice clenching around my heart, but I don’t want him to be sad and alone.

Everyone deserves to find someone they feel whole with.

“I wasn’t interested,” he says firmly. “I’m rarely interested in anyone.

That’s another problem.” He lies back on the bed, and stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking over at me.

I have no idea what my face looks like, but he seems to read through the hurt and embarrassment because his face softens.

“I’m not talking about you. You’re Simon’s sister. ”

It’s not an insult, but it hits me like one. “That’s not all I am.”

He holds my stare, his brown eyes jumping back and forth between mine. I wish I knew what he was searching for, but all he says is, “I know.”

I nod, taking the hint. It’s for the best. I don’t even live here, but it never feels good to know someone doesn’t feel the same.

Everett sits up, and I can almost feel the imaginary door he’s just shut. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” I agree, even though I hate everything about him leaving.

He gets to his feet and scratches the side of his head in a way that makes his hair perfectly mussed. He lightly taps on the doorframe. “Good night, Luce.”

I force a smile for the last time tonight. “Good night.”