Eversea: A Love Story by Natasha Boyd

Author:Natasha Boyd [Boyd, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780989492508
Amazon: 0989492508
Publisher: Natasha Boyd
Published: 2013-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

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Three margaritas apiece, a finished chandelier, and much giggling later, we were both maneuvering down the stairs with a little less grace. I was balancing the speakers and my glass. Jazz had her glass and the pitcher and we were both singing All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers at the top of our lungs. Considering our recipe for margaritas was tequila, Cointreau, and fresh lime juice—no sweet and sour filler mix for us—three was ambitious.

I groaned when we got to the stairs leading to the second floor and saw all the bare wood waiting for me. Jack. What was I going to do about Jack?

“My heart hurts.” I plopped onto my backside halfway down the stairs. “And maaaan, that boy can kiss,” I added.

“I know,” Jazz concurred sliding down to sit beside me and setting the pitcher down. “I’ve seen it in the movies...” She giggled, slurring slightly. “Why can’t we have the boys we want?” she whined. “We’re pretty. We’re nice. We’re fun, right?”

“Joey?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

She groaned and dropped her head back to the stairs behind us.

I followed her down, and we both lay propped awkwardly side by side, risers digging into our spines as we stared up at the ceiling. A deep rumble of thunder pressed in on the house, causing the windows to rattle. Apparently, the storm had hit. It was raging outside.

“There’s a cute boy in my econ one class. Brandon. He is sooooo nice.” She giggled again. “He’s so hot, too. He has these deep puppy dog brown eyes ... like chocolate. Mmm. I looove chocolate. He’s asked me out about four times, and I always say no. Why, oh why, can’t I say yes?”

“You should,” I slurred, nudging her arm. “Joey’s an ass. Why on earth would you want to date him?”

She sighed dramatically. “Cause maaaaan, that boy can kiiisssss!”

“Ew!” I nudged her again. “TMFI!”

She cackled loudly. I thumped her. And we lay there for a bit longer, the music playing loudly, both of us lost in our thoughts.

“So did you see him?” I asked her eventually, feeling sober at the turn of my thoughts. I’d studiously avoided asking about my truck or whether she saw Jack when she went back to get it.

Jazz turned and looked at me. “The clothes you left are in the kitchen,” she said, indirectly answering my question, and then went on, “he said ... he said to say thank you and good luck with the house.” She winced at the last words.

My breath whooshed out of me. It was crushing. I stretched my feet down the last few steps to the floor and let my body slide, bumping down to meet them. When I got to the bottom, I curled over, hugging my knees to my chest and buried my face. Oh God, it hurt.

“I really should have let you drag me out and about these last few years,” I mumbled. “At the very least so I could get used to some rejection.

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