Page 96 of Van Cort
“Okay, we need to drink. And talk.” She heads to retrieve the wine from the fridge. “Tell me everything.”
As if on cue, Everett’s messaged twice since I got home, and as much as I’ve said it’s a boy-free zone, I won’t ignore him. His timing couldn’t be worse, and the frustration that he’s decided now is the time to contact me aggravates me. He’s been in the same building as me for the past few days, and there’s only been silence.
While April is at the bar, I re-read and return his messages.
Dinner?
I’m sorry, I have plans. X
Doing what?
I’m out with a friend. Got to go. X
April comes back to our table and places my cocktail in front of me as she raises hers between us to toast. “No more messages. How can we talk about him while you’re texting him every chance you have?”
“Fine. No more phone.” I clink her glass with mine and slip my phone back into my bag.
“So, it was him then?”
“Maybe.” My voice springs up an octave.
“What side of him are we getting then?”
“Hey, don’t be like that,” I defend, but I know she’s only watching out for me, and she’s not wrong. There are two sides to him.
She smiles and shakes her head at me. “Oh girl, you’ve got it bad.”
“What?” I take a sip of the cocktail and feel the heat of the alcohol hit.
“Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but just be careful. Don’t let yourself be manipulated.”
“I’m not. I promise. He wants a more serious relationship. There’s no way he would have shared what he did if that wasn’t the case, trust me.”
“Bad?” Her eyes turn sad.
“His father was… an evil man by all accounts, and I can only imagine what he might have had to endure. I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“Given how much I know you love your parents, that is saying something.”
“It’s not my place to share. And, we’re here to have fun and celebrate, so let’s change the subject, deal?” There’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to share any of the details of our time away with anyone. Like what happened at the house belonged there, safe and secure from anyone picking over our actions and behaviour. “So, if we’re done with my love life, what about yours?”
April has always been popular, but she’s reluctant to settle down, or make a decision, so it’s no surprise that she’s been seeing a couple of different people. And we’re still young. We don’t need to be thinking of commitment and families yet. That was never our priority.
But as the thought intrudes, I’m back in the town, with Everett making that coded suggestion about a proposal. I washit away with the rest of my cocktail. Dragging April after me, we dance the next few songs away before refilling our glasses.
And repeat.
And repeat.
Until I can’t remember anything bad about Everett, or the situation we’re in, and all I know is that he can make me feel things I haven’t before.
***
The door. Someone’s at the door, and it’s not someone banging on the inside of my head. Maybe.
The thudding repeats, refusing me the option of falling back into the coma of sleep I need after last night. A woozy head is the least I deserve for mixing my drinks like that. It’s April’s fault. Actually, it might have been mine.
I pull myself from bed and wrap my robe around me before making my way to the door. Checking the peephole, I see who it is, and mentally school myself.
