Page 21 of A Smile in a Whisper

“You are! It’s like you’re waiting for something that’ll never happen.”

Evie shrank deeper into her scarf and pitched forward, evading Sunita’s disapproving wince by scrutinizing a water stain on her knockoff Uggs.

“It’s been a year and a half since music camp, and nothing—no Nikolai sightings, no conversations.” Sunita scoffed through her braces. “And I’m sorry, but a stupid Twirl wrapper is not a token of true love…” She trailed off, watching the boys jockey for position, the ba’ still concealed.

“It’s not stupid.” Evie punted the sandstone step with the rounded toe of her boot. “It reminds me of our time together.” Parting with the chocolate wrapper wasn’t up for discussion—not now, not ever, and as for the rest of Sunita’s rant, Evie couldn’t muster even a flimsy defense. Nick had vanished, at least around Orkney. Sam wasn’t forthcoming with any information—were they even still friends?—and all island gossip about him had dried up, too.

Until a few days ago.

A taxi driver eating in her mother’s café casually mentioned he’d driven the boys in from the airport for a Christmas celebration with their grandmother. Evie didn’t dare blab the exciting news to Sunita, knowing full well how she’d react.

“Listen, I know Nikolai’s like your ideal everything”—Sunita ducked her head, but Evie stubbornly refused to meet her beckoning brown eyes—“but what are you to Nikolai?”

Her words stung like a sharp, wet-handed cheek slap of reality, their blistering vibrations wrenching the remaining optimism from Evie’s heart. It was one thing asking herself that pathetic question (and Evie had—many times), but quite another hearing it in the Orcadian lilt of her oldest, most trusted friend.

I hate when Sun’s right.

Evie was fully committed…and not just emotionally.

Since meeting Nick, the musings in her journal had taken a one-way ticket to horny town, but her writing wasn’t the only safe haven where her X-rated daydreams drew breath. Under her duvet, Evie fantasized of deep, open-mouthed kisses, Nick’s hands on her breasts, and his hard length pressing hot and thick against her panties. Gasping, she’d slide in, pretending her touch was his, her inexperienced fingers exploring and teasing, making her delightfully dizzy and surprisingly wet until the most intense pleasure ripped through her, its breath-snatching waves slamming her deep into her pillows. The delicious, delirious haze of this once-secret release was unrivaled, the best EVER, until the next time, and the next.

Evie’s hormones were calling the shots. Untangling herself from everything Nick would involve more than removing a few posters from her bedroom walls.

A blur of tears prickled. She raised her chin and blinked furiously, staring ahead as the bundle of boys lurched toward St. Magnus Lane, the dark alley carved between the town hall and an appliances shop.

“Oh, Eves.” Looping her puffy parka sleeve around Evie’s shoulders, Sunita tugged her close. Her sudden shift sloshed the fizzy cola inside the large bottle. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Sunita offered a sad smile. “I’m just looking out for you, you know that, right? I hate seeing you disappointed.”

“I know,” Evie mumbled, swiping away a rogue tear. “And you’re right—I’m nothing more than a silly fan.”

“One of thousands, unfortunately.” Sunita agreed a little too enthusiastically.

“I feel so stupid thinking he’d like me.” Evie sniffed as an epiphany elbowed its way into her thoughts. Face it: Stuart is the best you’ll ever get. Her stomach sank.

“But at least you met him, right?” said Sunita. “How many fans can say that? No wonder you’re smitten like a kitten. And I get it. I do…” She hesitated.

“But…?”

“Celeb crushes aren’t real life. Eves, at some point you have to move on.”

Yep. Evie knew that was coming. “I am!”

Sunita’s brows arched. “Are you? ’Cause I swear the Dalston Grove Christmas special made you worse.”

“The way it ended, though…” Shaking her head mournfully, Evie let out a forceful exhale. “Jake and the baby moving to Wales…he’s gone. Forever.”

“Characters get written out of TV shows all the time.” Sunita dropped her arm from Evie’s shoulder, her tone beyond fed up.

“They have to bring him back,” said Evie. What would she do without her weekly fix of Nick?

“I guess there’s always a chance. Unlike whatserface—Amanda.” Sunita unscrewed the red cap from her cola. “She got on my tits most of the time, but even I think killing her off during childbirth was a tad harsh.”

Evie paled. “I’m never, ever having kids.”

“And on that bombshell, cheer up, would ya? Things aren’t so bad. It’s Chrimbo and you’ve got a REAL eighteen-year-old dying to snog your knickers off—”

“Ugh, don’t!” Evie recoiled as the older woman standing next to Sunita, a history teacher from their school, shot them some judgmental side-eye.

Unperturbed, Sunita foisted the open bottle into Evie’s mittens. “And I’ve got some holiday spirit!”