Page 58 of Over the Edge

“You’re only saying that because I have a weapon,” she says.

The cake has a strawberry filling that, in addition to the red icing, makes the blade look menacing. She continues to cut pieces and put them on plates. Instead of keeping the cake to ourselves, we hand out pieces to Pat and the handful of other bargoers before sliding into the booth.

As we adjust, our legs brush against each other. I expect her to pull away again, but her calf presses against mine. Like if we can’t see it we don’t have to acknowledge that it’s happening.

“You really made it feel like a party in here,” I say, cocking my head toward the room full of people.

“If this is the type of party you’ve been going to recently, I need to get you out more. When we’re back in the city I’ll take you with me,” Evelyn offers then takes a bite.

Back in the city.It’s been just under a week since Holt told me I had to stay and I’ve barely thought of work, barely thought of what this dynamic will look like when we return.

“You’re the expert, so if you invite me I won’t miss it.”

“The other day, why did you bring up that party, I mean, when we were talking to the Barlowes?”

“It’s a version of the truth, I thought it would be better than lying,” I say, my mouth goes dry, so I take a sip of my beer. “Why?”

“I don’t ever really know how to feel about that night. Somehow hearing your version made me like it more.” Her eyes dip down to her plate where she’s started to absentmindedly push around frosting. “We were celebrating my third album that night. Well, Avery wanted to and I showed up because I’m terrible at saying no, even though I didn’t really want to be there. I was supposed to be happy that night. I was supposed to pour champagne to the brim of the plastic flutes we bought to be practical yet celebratory. I was supposed to dance and smile and be on top of the world. I tried but I just really didn’t want to. Not that night.” She heaves a breath and wriggles her shoulders, as if to simply shake off her discomfort. “It was so weird. All these people didn’t even know why they were there. I was so relieved when someone spilled their drink on me because then I could take a break.”

“Sorry I brought it up,” I say, but I’m not sure I am.

“It’s not like you knew.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I usually like parties.”

“I’m glad, or I would have gone my entire life without celebrating not murdering you.”

“Despite the cake industry's best efforts to dissuade me.” Her lips curl into a half-hearted shadow of a smile. “But parties celebrating me? I can’t do it. I’ve always had a hard time with birthdays, especially. I hate it when the attention is on me, Ifeel like I’m being watched and then will inevitably screw up, like when people are singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and you’re just standing there trying to look thankful while not being sure what to do with your hands.”

“I promise not to sing happy birthday to you,” I say, then make sure to add, “Assuming I’d be invited.”

“After what we pulled off with the Barlowes? I can’t not invite my partner in crime.”

“I’m not sure if pretending to be in a relationship to fool local farmers counts as a crime.”

“We have to carry the secret forever or we might ruin the Love Letter Festival’s chances of getting donated wine.”

“Very high stakes.”

“Oh yes. We’re permanently bonded.” Her features soften, spring-green eyes glimmering. “Seriously, though, after this, if you see me on a street corner, will you look the other way?”

“Never,” I say, knowing that if I saw her, a glimpse alone would disrupt my every thought for the rest of the day.

She looks down and a deep flush colors her tan skin. “Good to know.” Her eyes dart to the bar and she says, “I’m going to grab water. I’ll be right back.”

I give in and watch her as she goes up to Pat and they talk cheerily as Pat finishes using a bottle opener to pop off two bottle caps in quick succession. Because I already have my eyes on her, I see Evelyn turn to stone as the door chimes and two frazzled tourists walk in. Their eyes turn to saucers when they spot her. A second later, I’m on my feet closing the distance between us.

22

Evelyn

Ineed to stop asking for what I want. Or at the very least, I should keep it to myself.

When I said I wished Quinn was here, I meant it. But not in the way that I ever expected her and Oliver to push through the door to The Gas Station.

The moment I make eye contact with Quinn, the world rocks. She is dressed in the same matching olive green sweatshirt and leggings she's worn every time we used to travel. Her black hair is tossed up in a precarious bun. I almost expect her to look at me and say, “I think ten pairs of underwear is enough for the weekend,”the way she would whenever I packed the hour before we left.

There must be some part of me that’s operating out of habit because I’m taking steps toward them. Before I know it, the three of us crowd the entryway. I don’t know where to look. My throat tightens, making me regret abandoning my water on the bartop.

“Hey, Ev,” Oliver says, and it shouldn’t shake me but it does. It’s so casual, so him, that I feel like I’ve been thrust back in time. What’s worse is his easy grin that causes a single dimple to pop on the right side of his mouth. His blue eyes are bright in the way that I used to love, the way that made everything feel like an adventure. But these are the first words he’s spoken to me in months.

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