Page 57 of Over the Edge

1. I love you. Bye.

21

Garrett

I’m thirsty!: Friday, 9 p.m. - 11 p.m. @ The Gas Station

Iwish Evelyn didn’t look so good bent over a table. The stars on the ass of her tight jeans are the first thing I see when I walk into The Gas Station, and it’s damn hard to look away from how the denim hugs her hips.

I’m not surprised she beat me here. I ended up getting a call from Wes, then Alina wanted me to run through a new arrangement for the festival with her.

“I’ll have to kick you out for being a creep if you keep staring at her. I suggest you stop looking and grab the beer I have waiting for you,” Pat says. I turn to meet her sly smile. She pushes the opened bottle in my direction and I reach for it.

Evelyn and I have only been at this for a week and if my timer hadn’t gone off, I would have kissed her. Hell, might have evenwith the timer if she hadn’t jumped away from me. At least one of us seems to have some sense of self preservation. But I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last, especially after tonight.

“What? Not going to deny you were staring?” Pat says, prying for more information.

“No denying something plain as day.” I walk away before Pat can tell me off. Anyway, there’s someone else I’d rather be talking to.

She’s breathtaking. But that’s not why; it’s never been why. Making music with her has only allowed me to wrangle my thoughts and understand them. I feel like myself around her.

Not the boy who did his best to be useful enough to keep around.

Not the bassist for Fool’s Gambit.

Not a man itching to work.

Just me.

The crack of billiard balls colliding welcomes me as Evelyn hits them with the intentionality of a sniper. Her lips curl with satisfaction as a red ball neatly falls into a corner pocket.

“Impressive,” I say.

She whirls and her gaze trips over me, cataloging my sweater and jeans before it reaches my eyes. “Damn. I was hoping to catch you when you came in so I could scam you.”

“You already have my time; you want my money too?”

“I want everything I can get out of you,” she says, ignorant of what that would entail. If she had all of me, everything I want to give her, it would scare her off in a heartbeat. Then I’d lose her, and that’s exactly why what almost happened earlier can’t happen.

“I doubt that,” I mutter under my breath.

Evelyn puts up the pool cue then shuffles to reset the table. “I do have a gift for you. I was going to wait until tomorrow to give it to you, but I thought it would pair well with celebratorydrinks.” Anxiety and excitement battle for dominance in her tone. “Come on.”

Before I know it, she’s pulling me behind her to one of the red upholstered booths in the corner. A white bakery box rests on the table next to a mismatched set of festive paper plates and napkins I assume she’s gotten from Pat.

She releases my hand to fling open the box. “Tada!”

“You set your expectations really low,” I say, reading the overly ornate red icing script.

We didn’t kill each other!

“The trick with men is keeping the bar in hell so you’ll never be disappointed,” she explains as she grabs a knife and moves to cut us slices. “You know, I checked three bakeries and none of them had pre-made options. I had to get it special ordered.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I know, right?” she says, acting appalled. “It must be a regional thing. I can usually find them so easily.”

“It’s nice,” I tell her.

---