Page 162 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

“That’s exactly what it was, though,” I said, “an accident. I think Noah didn’t have the chance to grieve properly, so it was probably more convenient to blame it all on you.”

Evan stayed quiet and studied me. It made me feel self-conscious. I kept thinking he was looking for flaws in my face.

“I never thought about it that way before,” he said after a while. “You’re awfully wise beyond your years, which I’m sure you hear a lot.”

I nodded with a smile, then withdrew my hand away.

“I want to share a secret with you,” he said.

“Tell me.”

Evan wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it on his tray. “I have a God-given gift.”

“Oh? What’s that?” I was genuinely curious.

“Well, I have this ability to read people—and not just read their personalities. I can tap in so deep into their minds that I’m able to connect a chain of events that have actually occurred in their lives.”

“I knew it.” I laughed. “Youarepsychic.”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head and took another sip of Coke through his straw. “The eyes can say and betray so much. You just have to be able to read them. They have a language of their own. A person could walk into a room with the biggest smile on their face, fake all the happiness in the world, and still manage to fool everybody around them. But they wouldn’t be able to fool me, because I know the truth. It’s all in the eyes, Aria.”

“Then try it on me.” I’d lost interest in my salad and shoved it aside before I folded my arms over the table and widened my eyes. He stared at me and I started giggling because I couldn’t keep a straight face.

“No, you don’t need to widen them like that.” Evan laughed. “Relax your expression and stare at me.”

It was hard to stay serious. But eventually, I took a deep breath and stared back at him. I wasn’t sure if he was deliberately hypnotizing me or if that was what naturally occurred while gazing into those dark pools of mystery.

“All your life,” he began, “you grew up feeling misunderstood and alone, like it was you against the world. You have two grandparents who were there for you and practically raised you in your infancy, since your mom was still trying to get her shit together.” He paused for a moment and navigated through me.

“Your mother got married, and your stepdad hasn’t exactly been a good role model for you. You wanted him to be the type of dad who would come to all your plays and dance recitals. But instead, he spent his free time getting drunk in front of the TV with a beer in his hand.”

Okay, the first part he could’ve already known. Maybe he overheard that tidbit of information during family discussions regarding me. However, the part he mentioned about my stepdad … how could he possibly have known that?

“He would beat you and your mom after a drinking binge too, huh?”

This wasn’t fun anymore.

“All you ever wanted was to be loved, accepted, and respected. But you never really felt that from anyone. You love your half-siblings, yet you’re not very close. You resent them because you feel they are more valuable than you. You resent them because that bastard kept impregnating your mom while she popped them out, one after another, and dumped the responsibilities on you. Why? Because she had to work full-time to make ends meet. You missed out on some crucial stages in your childhood.”

I was almost on the verge of tears. Evan didn’t know about the twins, though. Mom went through only one pregnancy with Rob.

“And then Noah suddenly comes to the rescue, and you hate him. You hold a grudge against him for abandoning you. I bet you wanted nothing to do with him, but he won custody in court and forced you to come here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. He wasn’t psychic or telepathic after all. “I didn’t hate Noah when I first met him. I didn’t even hate him when I was a kid. It just hurt not having him there. I decided to come to California of my own free will. He never forced me.”

“I see.” Evan smiled and finished the rest of his sandwich.

“I think you’re just good at psychology.”

“And yet I never managed to get straight A’s in school.”

We both laughed and made lighter conversation. He told me all about his charity housing projects, and what it was like to give back to communities in Haiti. He planned on building his own house one day, but he wasn’t sure of the location yet. I asked him if he had anyone special in his life, and he openly talked about his relationship with his ex-girlfriend—how she’d emotionally crippled him. This Ashley woman basically screwed him over. She was the reason he had such a hard time trusting women. My heart went out to him. I knew what it was like to feel dead inside and afraid to trust. I couldn’t understand why Noah hated him so much. Yes, Evan had made his fair share of mistakes (which he briefly discussed), but he didn’t deserve to be burned at the stake.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but Noah mentioned that you were, um”—I hesitated—“a bit of a pyromaniac.”

“Did he now?” Evan laughed out loud, shaking his head. “I had a fascination with fire when I was eight years old. I used to light matches constantly and toss them anywhere and everywhere. One time, I accidentally set the east wing of our house on fire because I wanted to see if the match would burn the drapes. Well, sure enough, it did. Fortunately for me, no one got hurt. Dad had to renovate that entire side of the property.”

“Wow …” I was at a loss for words.

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