Devastate Page 7

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions about Elliot, and I’ve already told you I think he’s in love with you.”

  I cringe when she says the word love. It seems impossible, and it’s also something I could never reciprocate.

  “But, Lior made some good points when it came up in conversation,” she continues.

  “You spoke to Lior about this?” I shout in disbelief. Covering my face with my hands, I try and hide the embarrassment of knowing everybody is talking about me and my business.

  “Relax, and hear me out before you get your tits in a twist.”

  Where does she even come up with this stuff? I bite my bottom lip in anticipation, nervous about whatever it is she has to tell me.

  “Lior, asked if I was into Elliot and I told him I could be but Elliot was into you,” she explains.

  “Hold up. Are you into Elliot? Did I miss something?”

  “Would I fuck him? Sure. He’s broody and sexy.”

  “Uggghhhh,” I groan loudly. “Just forget I asked.”

  “Even if I was into him, I’m not into chasing someone who only has eyes for someone else.” Her voice wavers, and I know my observation skills are rusty, but it sounds like she could be upset about Elliot not being interested in her. She’s a bombshell. Long, wavy blonde hair, legs that go on for days, and underneath all that sass is a heart of gold. Any guy would be lucky to have her.

  “So where does Lior fit into all of this?” I ask.

  “Oh, right. He said he had been trying to ask Elliot if he was into you so he could know whether to pursue you or not.”

  “Stop,” I demand. “I don’t want to know anymore.”

  She looks at me strangely and walks off finding something to do within the store. Knowing her and Lior were talking about me sets me back a hundred steps. I can’t deal with the pressure. The expectation to just slip into everyday life with no hiccups, regrets or concerns; is more than I can handle. I’ve already hurt so many people with my selfish ways in the last two years, the last thing I want to do is hurt anyone. The damn phone beeps again, and I remember how this all started. The words pursue and love roll around in my head over and over. After James, there’s no way I could ever consider being with someone again. The scars are still so fresh. So deep, and so undeniably painful.

  * * *

  We’ve just finished closing up the shop after the busiest afternoon, leaving us with no opportunity to finish off our earlier conversation. I don’t know where we stand, but I decide to see if she still wants to come to the apartment.

  “Elliot is probably going to be here soon, are you going to walk with us and come over for dinner?”

  I hear her footsteps echo mine, as we both walk toward the door. “No, I think I’m just going to go home.”

  I turn to apologize when voices from outside catch my attention. There waiting on the sidewalk next to Elliot is Lior. My breath hitches and knots form in the pit of my stomach. I quickly turn back to Courtney. If he’s coming to dinner, I need her to run interference. I can’t be alone with him and Elliot, especially not after today.

  “Please come to dinner.” My eyes beg her. I need her.

  She sees the two men outside and then brings her gaze back to mine. “What are you cooking?” she asks with a smile. My eyes close and my shoulders sag in relief. “I’ll cook anything your heart desires.”

  I count to ten before making my way outside, putting on my mask, and preparing myself for the unexpected, yet addictive feelings being around Lior brings. I feel Court’s hand squeeze mine. “Come on, you’ve got this,” she reassures me. I squeeze her hand back, so grateful she’s forced herself into my life.

  Elliot and Lior look immersed in a serious conversation as we walk up to them it takes a few minutes before either of them notices we’ve approached them. I try to even out my attention between all three people around me, but my eyes have trouble focusing on anything but Lior. The biggest smile spreads across his face, and I can’t remember the last time someone looked that way when looking at me. Frowns, narrowed eyebrows, and looks of pity are what I’m used to. The feeling of wanting to smile back shocks me, it’s foreign and unfamiliar. I purse my lips together and look to the ground, not ready to show him how he affects me. I want to keep all my cards close to me for as long as I can.

  “Elliot, I was invited over for dinner; on a scale of one to ten how bad is this girl’s cooking?” Courtney’s smart mouth saves the day, again. She knows very well I can cook.

  “She's actually really good,” he tells her. “I’ve only ever gotten food poisoning once.”

  “Hey,” I interject. “Don’t believe a word he says.” They all laugh in unison, as we start the walk home. I move a little bit faster and tune out their banter while thinking of what to cook. Visualizing my pantry, I take inventory of everything we have and decide homemade pizzas will be a quick, easy and tasty meal.

  With four of us in the apartment, it feels more crowded than it’s ever been. Courtney and Lior both sit on the couch, making themselves at home.

  “I’m just going to change and I’ll start on dinner,” I announce. I walk to my room, set my bag down and rummage around for clothes to wear. Finding black sweats and a long sleeve shirt, I bring them to my nose and make sure they smell clean. I quickly change and try to remember where the last place I left a hair tie was. I open my bag and tip it upside down hoping there’s one there. Everything falls out including what I need. I tip my head down and tie my hair up in a messy bun. Before I step back outside, I go to throw everything back in my bag but notice my phone. I remember I didn’t end up checking the message from earlier. Swiping the screen, I touch the message icon and wait for it to open. Sitting there is a message from Lior. Like everyday.

  Lior: Hope you’re having a great day.

  I chuck the phone on the bed and take the deepest breath. You’ve got pizzas to make, Evie. Don’t overthink this.

  11

  Lior

  She steps out of the room, and there’s no hiding how desperate she is to avoid me. Granted, texting her hasn’t been as smooth sailing as I hoped. If I don’t ask open ended questions she doesn’t respond. I’ve set up a ritual of three texts a day, which she responds to every time. Except for this afternoon. It’s stupid, but in my mind I think if she sees my name on that screen everyday she won’t forget about me, and she’ll also know how persistent I am. The rational part of my brain knows with Evie, baby steps are the answer, but the impatient man in me is running ahead and letting my mind conjure up images I have no business entertaining. She’s a combination of shy and secretive, luring me in with her eyes; a corridor to her soul that I will gladly wait in for as long as it takes.

  I watch her make her way to the kitchen, and I notice Courtney about to get up and help her. I shake my head at her and follow Evie. There’s no way I’m letting anyone get in the way of spending some time with her. Relaxed, in her own space; I can't help but be captivated by her effortless beauty.

  I watch her pull things out of the fridge and pantry, setting them up along the counter ready to prep for dinner.

  “What you making?” I ask.

  “Homemade pizzas. I figured everybody loves pizza, right?”

  Her eyes remain focused on the task at hand, giving her an extremely plausible excuse for not looking my way. She begins throwing ingredients in a bowl and organizing the toppings in groups.

  “Can I help?” I offer.

  “Sure,” she murmurs. “Can you cut up vegetables?”

  I chuckle. “Yes, much to everyone's surprise, I’m not too bad in the kitchen.”

  Adamant to keep her eyes off me, she shuffles over giving me room beside her and slides the knife over. “You can cut the peppers and mushrooms.”

  “Yes chef,” I call out animatedly.

  She shakes her head, and I catch a slight lift in her lips. I store the way she looks right now in my memory. A reminder that she’s a little bruised and not at all broken. I continue slicing up the vegetables
until I notice her begin to knead the dough on the counter.

  “Do you want me to do that?”

  “I got it,” she responds. “You can cut chop the chorizo and half the pepperoni slices, if you like?”

  I gladly take her orders and get to work. Constantly glancing at her from the corner of my eye, I see that she too can’t help but occasionally look in my direction. Minutes pass and our silence is overshadowed by the murmurs between Elliott and Courtney.

  I decide to bring up today’s unanswered message, sharing something familiar between us and combining the people that text everyday with the two people side by side in this kitchen.

  “So, how was your day?”

  The lull stretches between us. I almost think she is going to ignore the question but then she stops kneading and squeezes the dough between her fingers.

  “I’m sorry for not responding to your message today,” she says quietly. “I’m still getting used to having a phone, and we had a busy day. You can ask Court,” she adds defensively.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal. Life happens,” I reassure her. “Now what do you want me to do next?”

  “Can you get the tomato paste and the shredded cheese from the fridge? I’m flattening the dough now and we can construct the pizza.”

  I lean on the counter and wait patiently for the dough to be ready when her soft voice breaks through the quiet. “How was your day?”

  “The usual. Elliot and I sending each other memes through email,” I joke. She reaches for the sauce and begins pasting it on each pizza. She’s made one for each of us.

  “Sounds like a hard day at work then.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is finding the perfect meme? Each one I find has to be better than Elliot’s,” I explain.

  “Oh, I see how it is.” She begins slicing up some onions, while I begin throwing cheese all over the bases, and I take it as my cue to let the conversation fade out and continue helping. I meticulously place the different vegetables on the pizzas, purposefully standing a little too close, I let our shoulders brush.

  I turn my head and notice the tears falling from her face.

  “I could’ve done that for you,” I tell her.

  “That’s ok,” she says with a sniffle.

  “They say if you try breathing through your mouth-only, you won’t cry.” I hear the change in her breathing when an idea hits me. I finish garnishing the pizza and wipe my hands on a nearby tea towel. With a high possibility of backfiring in my face, I walk behind her. Leaving the smallest gap between us, I put my hands around her shoulders and move both hands toward her nose. Using each index finger, I apply light pressure to her nostrils.

  “Can you still cut?”

  She continues to chop them up, her actions answering my question. Her breathing quickens, but surprisingly she doesn’t move. I watch and wait till she’s finished and I grab her wrists and move them away from the knife and onions. She lets her arms hang to the sides, while I scatter the thinly sliced pieces across all pizzas.

  “Oh.” Elliot’s voice breaks through the moment, Evie’s body jumping at the interruption. I grab her shoulders to still her, his presence shifting the mood.

  Stepping back, I see the discomfort in his body and the turmoil in his eyes. I knew it would come to this.

  “Do you want me to put them in the oven?” I ask Evie.

  “Yes, please.”

  Unfortunately, we eat in silence. Evie’s meal underappreciated. Courtney and I glare at each other with frustration. I decide that Elliot and I need to have it out. He needs to hear in plain English where I stand, and know I’m not stepping back. Not now.

  “Elliot and I are going to buy dessert,” I announce.

  All eyes turn to me, but I keep focused on Elliot. “Come on, it’s the least we can do after Evie cooked for everybody.” I lay the guilt on thick, making sure he knows how serious I am. He gets up, and together we leave the apartment. As soon as we enter the elevator, we both lean against the back wall, side by side, refusing to look each other in the eye.

  “I’m just going to say what I have to say, and you can take it however you want, okay?”

  He doesn’t respond, but I take his silence as an invitation.

  “I’ve been trying to get you to tell me how you feel about Evie since I met her. Whether you haven’t noticed or are purposefully being obtuse, I don’t know.” I pause momentarily, trying to gather the right words. “You’ve been evasive and given me nothing concrete, but I haven’t hidden anything from you.” The elevator pings and the doors begin to open. I push off the wall and turn to face Elliot, blocking his path out. I make eye contact with him, showing him I’m not backing down. “Here’s your chance. Get it off your chest once and for all, because that woman up there, she’s someone I’m willing to fight my best friend for.”

  * * *

  Walking back from the cake shop, I wait for Elliot to say something. It’s been at least twenty minutes and while I expected him to stay in the elevator after my admission, It’s getting progressively awkward walking in silence.

  Just as the apartment block comes into view, I notice he’s stopped walking. I stop too. With his hands buried in his pockets and his eyes looking anywhere but me, he finally tells me what’s on his mind.

  “Maybe I thought Evie and I could be together,” he says. “When I first met her it wasn’t my first thought. I was too busy grieving a brother I’d never met and trying to find out as much information about him as I could.” He begins to walk toward me, and we continue to the apartment.

  “Then somewhere along the line, I thought our experiences could serve as a common ground. We could lean on each other, you know? But there were days when she didn’t even look at me.” His voice raises with frustration. “I’m not mad, but since you and Courtney have stepped on the scene, she’s changing.”

  We arrive at the entry of the apartment block, I don’t want to walk inside yet, not till he’s said everything he needs to. I lead us out of the walkway and lean on the cold bricks, and wait for him to continue.

  “If I step back and look at the bigger picture, she deserves to try and be happy again. But my ego took a hit. Not only has she never looked at me the way she does you, but I don’t think we’ve ever been friends.”

  He sounds deflated, and I feel like shit. There’s so much more to this than any of us know and Evie has all the answers.

  “I think it’s worth talking to Evie about. You said she’s changing, maybe you can get some stuff off your chest?” I explain.

  “Yeah, maybe.” He pushes off the wall and punches me in the arm. “Look at us talking about our feelings and shit.”

  “Are we ok?”

  “We will be.”

  12

  Evie

  As soon as Elliot walked into the kitchen I froze. I felt like a teenager getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Dinner was awkward and I could feel the anger radiating off Lior. I didn’t know whether he was angry at Elliot or himself. But when he forced Elliot to go buy dessert with him, the puzzle pieces started fitting together.

  “I hope they don’t kill each other, I really want dessert,” Court blurts out.

  “How can you even joke right now?”

  “Relax. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” she asks nonchalantly.

  “I don’t know. What did I miss? Why are they fighting?”

  “I tried to talk to you about this today, but you had a hissy fit and didn’t speak to me all day,” she explains. “I don’t feel like rehashing that with you, so you’re going to have to ask one of the guys. But you can tell me about what Elliot walked in on in the kitchen.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I can’t help but smile at how damn animated she is. It’s really hard to not be affected by her infectious enthusiasm.

  “I know you didn’t kiss him.”

  “Oh my God, just stop talking.” My face heats up, I quickly walk away before she notices. I start clearing the empty plates and glasses, distrac
ting myself from reminiscing on what happened between Lior and I in the kitchen. I have walls up. Strategic responses in conversations and physical boundaries that have been solid until him. He doesn’t care, and when he stood behind me and closed my body in with his arms; neither did I.

  The door slams and the guys walk in, looking much more relaxed than when they left. Elliot doesn't meet my gaze, but Lior’s eyes cling to me like a magnet; fixed on every inch of me. Goose bumps cover my body, my stomach fills with butterflies. I don’t dare move, even with dirty dishes in my hand; I stand still. Things with Lior have moved faster in one night then they did the whole two weeks of texting. He’s made it pretty obvious he’s not going anywhere, I’m just extremely uncertain of what it means if I want him to stay. In my peripheral vision, I see Court walking closer to Lior.

  “I’m going to fade away if I have to wait any longer for this dessert. What did you bring?” she asks.

  He turns and smiles. “It wouldn’t be a complete moment without your commentary, would it?”

  “Just let me have the dessert already.”

  He hands it over and she walks away without a second glance, straight to the kitchen.

  “You’re welcome,” he shouts across the room, Courtney continuing to ignore him. He begins to walk toward me. “Sit down, you cooked. I got this.”

  “It’s fine, you just got dessert,” I persist.

  “That’s right. I got it. From a store, I didn’t cook it.” He tugs at the plates in my hand and I eventually let them go.

  “Sit down, please. I’ve got to get to the kitchen anyway, and make sure Court leaves us some cheesecake.”

  “I heard that,” Court retorts.

  “I’ll be back,” he whispers.

  I watch him walk away, unable to do anything else but stare at him till he's out of sight. A cough pulls me out of my trance, and I notice Elliot by my side. He seems a little different; slightly changed.

  “I just wanted to thank you for dinner. The pizzas were great,” he tells me. Considering the circumstances, thanking me for dinner is the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth. To think of it, I'm never sure of what Elliot is about to say or do. The further back into our memories I go, I realize Elliot and I are still strangers.