She nodded, throat closing on all her words, heart racing. He was right. It wasn’t nothing. It was everything she’d never wanted to feel, and she wanted it more than anything.
Despite all her desire to disappear, to not exist, not feel, not let anything get too close or too real, there was Ré, sitting sideways on the driver’s side of a shitty blue Buick, laying his heavy eyes on her and making her want it all.
R
Réal eyed the car in Evie’s drive as they pulled up outside her house. “Your mom’s still home?” he asked, trying to sound relaxed.
Evie said, “She’ll leave for work soon.”
“Does she ever get days off?”
“Yeah, every two weeks she gets four days,” Evie told him. “But almost never on weekends.”
“You don’t get to see her that much, huh?”
Evie shrugged. “Not really.”
“That sucks,” he replied, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Family was important to Réal. But then, maybe a family as big as his swallowed you up, made you care, even if you didn’t really want to. But if your whole family was just one other person you never saw, maybe it was easy not to care so much about them.
“Come on,” she said, tilting her head. “She wants to meet you anyway.” When his eyes went round, she laughed and got out of the car.
Ré didn’t know why, but he was nervous as hell. Maybe it was the ten pounds of bear meat under his arm—just the cure for cannibal demons, no big deal. He was actually pretty good with parents when he wasn’t worried about eating their daughters.
A middle-aged woman stepped out of a room at the back of the small house. She wore light-green scrubs and a pair of running shoes, and she was pulling her long brown hair up into a high ponytail. “Hi, Evie,” she said, looking at him.
“Mom, this is Réal.” Evie nodded over her shoulder at him. “The guy I told you about.”
Câlisse. If he was nervous before those words, he was a catastrophe now. What, exactly, had she told her mother about him?
He shifted the package under his arm and stuck out his hand. The woman smiled, taking it. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hawley,” he said, as politely as he could. He didn’t even know where to look. He felt his cheeks flush red. Yeah, he was good with parents—you didn’t half raise four brothers without meeting a lot of moms—but this was different. This was a girl’s mom. He’d never done that before.
Catching the hint of his accent, Evie’s mom said, “So you really are French, huh?” like she’d thought it was a hoax before he’d opened his mouth.
His eyes flicked to Evie’s. “Ah…oui,” he said stupidly. And then, like a dancing dog, “Mais j’parle surtout l’anglais de toute façon” But he could see she was impressed, and it made him feel slightly less idiotic.
“Ré’s grad party is tonight,” Evie told her mom. “He asked me to go, if that’s okay?”
Mrs. Hawley stood back and looked him over. Ré stiffened nervously, wanting to clear his throat but afraid it would seem impolite.
“Okay,” she said, poking a finger at him. “But don’t stay out all night. And no booze if you’re driving.”
Ré was about to give her an answer she’d like when Evie rolled her eyes and said, “All right, Mom” and started pushing him through to the kitchen.
He glanced at Mrs. Hawley and could almost see her daughter in the wry smile she wore. “I’m trusting you, Réal,” she said as he went by. “She’s the only one I’ve got, so be careful with her.”
“I will,” he assured her. “I promise.”
The kitchen was only big enough for the appliances and a small table, but it opened onto a dining room that was pretty and comfortable.
“Can I leave this in here?” he asked, raising the bundle under his arm. She pointed at the fridge, nodding yes.
He bent and put the package on a shelf. This is weird, he thought, pushing back the leftovers and half empty jars of mayonnaise. Nice weird. Like we’re married or something.
He straightened from the fridge, not knowing where to look or what to touch. She stood at the sink, pouring a glass of water, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes fall down the backs of her legs. Their shape made his stomach tighten, made him want to stand closer.
“All right, you guys.” Evie’s mom appeared in the kitchen doorway, keys in hand. Ré nearly jumped out of his skin at her voice. He turned, blushing, hiding his eyes. “Have fun at your party. Don’t burn anyone’s house down. Evie, can I have a little chat with you, alone?”
Evie groaned and followed her mom to the front door. Ré just lifted his hand in a shy wave and pressed his lips into a smile. He heard their murmuring voices and imagined what they must be saying about him. Horny, pervert, sicko…When he heard the car pull out of the drive, he felt a small weight lift from his shoulders.
Evie didn’t return to the kitchen. She went straight up the attic stairs without a word, and it took him several minutes to realize she wasn’t coming back. After a while he heard the upstairs shower running in the pipes above his head.
“Ré?” Evie’s voice rose from a distance. “Are you all right?”
Then her hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back from the dream.
He sucked a breath, startled awake in an unfamiliar room. When his eyes found her, he relaxed. He put his hand down on hers, patting it like he was comforting her, not the other way around. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
He ran a palm over his face and felt a cold trail of drool. Jesus, he thought. Fucking embarrassing.
She plunked down on the other end of the couch, folding her legs under herself and looking at him with worried
