Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(77)

"It's not a problem," Evan assured warmly. "I learned a lot about your mother's concert going experiences while I waited." He let out a quick laugh, but I could only nod―not finding her adventurous life all that amusing, especially when it took place after she'd abandoned me.

The server returned with our drinks and we placed our order. The harmonious notes of a quartet swirled through the air, enveloping the hum of conversation. I could've easily been convinced that we were the only two in the restaurant. The candles' glow softened the angles of Evan's face and reflected in his eyes. He reached over the table and took my hand, giving it a small squeeze that I felt in my chest.

"You know, I don't know that much about the guys in California," I said, after I was able to form sentences again. "Will you tell me about them?"

Evan smiled at the request. "Sure." He paused for a moment then started with, "Well, there's Brent. He's very... easy to get along with. He thinks he's better with the girls than he is, and always wants the best outcome in every situation.

"Ren is the most laid back guy I've ever met. He lives and breathes surfing, and I'm convinced he'd sleep on the beach on top of his board if he could. He would do anything for anyone, doesn't matter if he knows them or not―if he can help out, he will. I'm lucky to know him.

"Then there's TJ," Evan paused with a smirk, deliberating how to describe him. "He's a lot to take, but he's always entertaining, and some of the things he gets away with make us laugh for days. But he's still a good friend, regardless of how many times we'd like to throw him in the ocean.

"And that leaves Nate. Nate's my best friend. I trust him with... well, everything. I'd trust him with you if we ever needed to." His eyes connected with mine, and a pang shot through my chest, suddenly realizing what he meant. "That's where we were to going to go. Where we should have gone. His family has a summer place in Santa Barbara that they hardly ever go to, even in the summer. The guys basically take it over after school's out. I'm hoping we can spend at least a week there before you need to be on campus for soccer."

"I'd like that," I replied just as the server set the entrees in front of us. "I wish―"



       
         
       
        

My words were cut off by, "I will not lower my voice."

We followed the outburst across the room to find a man in a dark suit arguing with the maître d', who was bent over and speaking lowly to him. The woman across from him darted her eyes around the room in embarrassed apology. She handed the server the check and gathered her purse.

"Come, Roger. It's time to take me home," she implored. All movement and conversation ceased, to watch the spectacle.

I turned my back to the couple, empathizing with the woman, who looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. "I guess I'll never understand it," I mused under my breath with a shake of my head.

"What's that?" Evan encouraged.

I lifted my eyes, realizing he'd heard me. "Why people drink, I guess. It just seems to make them stupid. They end up saying something they regret or acting like an idiot. I just don't get it."

"Well, there is such a thing as moderation," Evan offered.

I nodded, recalling seeing Evan drink without acting out of control. "Have you ever been drunk?"

Evan laughed. "Yes. I have. And it's not pretty either. I'm sure I've qualified as the idiot a few too many times."

"Really?" I was surprised by his answer. I couldn't even imagine it.

"It doesn't happen very often. I actually haven't been drunk in a while. I don't really like how it makes me feel, especially the next day. Have you ever had a drink?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to recount the sips I'd taken at the parties my mother threw. I was too young to know better, so as far as I was concerned, they didn't count. "Don't think I ever will. Besides I have no desire to have my face splattered across Facebook doing something humiliating. I already get too much attention."

Evan let out a short laugh.

"What do you want to do on Sunday?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Want to go hiking?" he offered. "It's not supposed to be cold, and it's better to go now while there's still snow, before it gets muddy."

"Sure," I responded. Fresh air and the calm of the woods were the perfect escape from everything and everyone in Weslyn. I just needed to survive the next night's basketball game, alongside my mother, before I could get there. "I'd like that."