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“No, it’s not,” I agree, because I went to college there and had a couple of memorable nights.
Not so many because I was a scholarship student working twenty hours a week to pay for any extra necessities. But there were a few times that I let myself enjoy all the craziness the city had to offer twenty-something women.
“I could use a beer. You want one?” he asks, and I think it’s his way of breaking the tension even further.
If we both went to our separate rooms right now, the broken kiss would only simmer between us. The divide would grow wider, and it would become this thing between us. More than anything, I do not want that to happen.
“Sure.” I take the metaphorical white flag.
As much as I don’t want to be another notch in his bedpost, I still can’t help wanting to be around him. Not only is he gorgeous, but there is this magnetism about Evan that draws me to him.
As we walk into the kitchen, Evan shrugs out of his thin jacket, leaving him in only a T-shirt and cargo pants that hug his ass in a way that should be criminal. I went for cozy and comfortable in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and relaxing with a beer on the couch sounds like a good way to unwind tonight.
After he grabs an IPA from the fridge and hands me the same, we walk into the living room in a surprisingly comfortable silence. Evan takes the couch, so I cuddle up in the leather armchair on the other side of the end table. Sitting on the same cushions right now seems like a bad idea since we’re both trying to dissolve the awkwardness but not giving voice to it.
“You know, I feel like we don’t know much about each other.” He points the neck of his bottle at me.
I have to bite my tongue because I definitely know more about him than he does about me. “Oh, yeah?”
“And we’re roommates now, so we should fix that,” he proposes, and I can’t quite stop staring at the fleck of foam on the upper corner of his right lip. “Yes. So … what’s your favorite color?” He smirks.
I chuckle. “Ah, getting so deep already, are we? Hmm, red. But not the bright, obnoxious kind, and I’d never paint my walls that color. I love the deep kind, like Christmas. Or the color of pizza sauce. Or the tip of your nose when it’s snowing and cold outside. That color always reminds me of fond memories.”
Evan blinks at me like I’ve shocked him with my answer, and it suddenly makes me feel self-conscious.
“What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Christmas, of course.” He tips his head to me like I just supplied some of his answer for him when I said the color red. “The big tree, the family dinner, cozy by the fire with a spiked apple cider and holiday rom-com. Yeah, I’m a sucker for that.”
That’s the Christmas I’ve always dreamed of, and a spike of jealousy spears me, but I push it to the back burner.
He smiles, sipping out of the longneck. “How about yours?”
I don’t want to say none of them because I haven’t truly experienced any of them the right way, so I settle on something cheesy.
“Valentine’s Day. It’s a girl’s stupid fantasy, right?” I crack the joke.
A flit of a frown passes over his mouth, like he doesn’t buy what I’m selling, but he doesn’t say anything. “Okay, if you had to be eaten by a lion or stomped by an elephant, which would you choose?”
The absurd question makes me burst out in a loud laugh because it’s so out of right field. “Let me think. Hm, probably stomped by an elephant. Blunt force trauma would mean I’d probably be passed out by the time I died, and then at least I wouldn’t have to see the blood from lion’s teeth. Also, you never said I’d have to die, so the elephant stomp gives me the greatest odds of survival.”
“Morbid but good logic.” He nods sagely as if it was the most serious question he’d ever asked someone.
“Favorite meal to make someone?” I throw out, finishing my beer.
Evan notices and rises to grab two more, coming back and putting the same distance between us after he hands me the drink.
“Pizza. And if you ever tell my family that, I will deny it.”
“Surprising,” I remark. “I thought you personally hated that side of the family business.”
There is a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ll admit, it’s not the most culinary of masterpieces as far as the food I’ve cooked goes. Doesn’t even come close in most cases. But there is something about the comfort of pizza, the creativity to make it anything you want it to be. And my family … well, it’s in our blood. Watching someone take that delicious first bite and just close their eyes and sigh? It’s perfect.”
I grin. “It really is, seen it many times on the faces of the kids in the restaurant. It’s always special.”
“Special,” he muses, locking eyes with me.
Throughout the next hour and a half, we talk like friends. No one mentions the kiss. And it’s … pleasant. I realize that while I know a lot factually about Evan, I’ve never heard him talk about his likes and dislikes. He explains his journey and goals in a way that makes me able to see them, like a movie is playing in front of my eyes. He’s more sarcastic than goofy, and I feel myself blush every time I go on a tangent and find him hanging on every word.
