Seven Days in June(27)

“Cece made me wear that dress last night. And straight hair.” Nervously, she fluffed her bangs. “This is what I really look like.”

“I know what you really look like,” he said simply.

Eva shifted slightly in her seat and picked up the laminated menu on her plate.

“You look different, too,” she started.

“How?”

“Your eyes are open.”

“I’m sober.”

“I’m…stunned.”

“Me too.”

“How long?”

“Two years and two months.”

“Is it sticking?”

“I’ll let you know in another couple years.”

“No, you got this.”

A hot flush radiated across his chest, but he ignored it. “So. You had to make me evil, huh? A vampire?”

“If the fangs fit,” she shot back. “Did you have to make me an adorable runaway with a heart of gold?”

“I didn’t make you that. You were that.”

Eva grabbed a half-moon of seven-grain bread from the basket and began anxiously tearing at it. Whatever she was feeling, he didn’t want her to be alone in it. In a sign of solidarity, he grabbed a roll, too.

Just in time, a waitress appeared to take their drink orders. She was a sixty-something minx with a fuchsia lace headband and an eastern-European accent.

“Just water,” said Eva primly. “No, I’ll have a chocolate milkshake.”

“Two ztrawz?” said the waitress. She winked at Eva and then looked Shane up and down. “Well, aren’t you a chocolate doughnut?”

“One straw,” said Eva.

Shane scanned the menu, stopping on the natural juices, ever mindful of his new healthy lifestyle. “I guess I’ll have the Mint-Kale Clean Green Mean juice?”

“You zound like you don’t really vant that,” the waitress remarked, and bounced.

“So,” began Eva. “You’ve read my whole series.”

“Every line.” He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. “You’ve read mine, too.”

“With a highlighter.”

“I meant what I said in there,” he said. “I’m your biggest fan. I’m an English teacher now, and while my students are reading Hawthorne in class, I read you.”

“You teach?” Eva’s skepticism was palpable. “What school would allow you anywhere near their student population?”

“I’ve changed.” His confident smile made it believable. “I think this is what writers call a character arc.”

“I see.” Eva cocked her head. “Speaking of writers. Your little speech about Cursed? It was…like…What were you…”

Shane cringed. He never would’ve thought that there’d be a time when they didn’t know how to talk to each other. Years ago, they’d had a purely instinctual rhythm. A wordless connection so raw that minutes after meeting, they pounced. But rational-minded adults didn’t take such liberties.

Of course, Shane was, historically, not great at being an adult.

“Just talk to me,” he said. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”

“Fine.” She shoved her glasses up her nose, inelegantly and irresistibly. “Your speech about Cursed? It was a lot. You can’t just jump from 2004 to 2019, shock me to death, and then hit me with a…rapturous, doctorate-level thesis of my supernatural erotica. Those books are my babies, and even I know they’re not that good. Hearing you talk like that? You? After fifteen years? I couldn’t breathe.” She huffed, exasperated. “Why’d you come on stage last night?”

“Cece made me.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“True. And you could’ve worn jeans.”

“Okay, fair point. Cece owns us all.”

“Honestly? I was shook.” Shane reached for more bread. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Next thing I know, we’re up there together, and you bring up Eight, and I just…blacked out and said too much.”

“We weren’t really talking about our books, Shane. Everyone knew.”

“I know. Fuck. I got a certificate for best communicator in AA. How’d I get here?”

“Good question,” she said pointedly.

With impressive timing, the waitress swept by the table with Shane’s radioactive-green mint-kale juice and Eva’s milkshake.

Shane took a gulp and instantly regretted it. The mint was awful. It tasted like a Listerine smoothie. He swallowed, cheeks puffed out, miserable. Generously, Eva slid her milkshake toward him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a swig. He hated being healthy. “I’m here to present at the Littie Awards on Sunday.”

“Nope. You don’t do awards ceremonies. Or panels. And you’re never in Brooklyn. You’ve been very careful to avoid me.”

“I’ve been avoiding life in general.”

Eva rolled her eyes extravagantly.

“It’s true!” insisted Shane. “Meanwhile, you mastered it. You made it to Princeton. Got married, had a beautiful girl.”

“How do you know anything about me? You’re not on social media.”