Between Octobers

October 19th

October 19th

I've met many people in my life, almost always followed by an awkward, second meeting when they had to remind me that we met once before and then repeat the introductions. But Sheri Barry—despite the funny rhyming sound of her name that she did not find humorous—was someone I could never forget.

She had a sweet face, slender and soft with high cheek bones. Her eyes were light brown like her bobbed hair. Her frame was petite, offsetting her demeanor, which was largely self-assured. There was probably much more under the surface, but it was not evident during our introduction. Maybe in time I'd differentiate personality from brimming confidence, but at the moment, that's all there was—confident silence. Because she seemed to always be thinking. When she spoke, it was voluble and with poise, in the manner of someone who knew what she was doing and had no trouble executing. Confident and articulate, a deep-thinker. She spoke about work—well, Evan's work, which was to be expected. His career was the focal point of her job—but I could not make out any more to her personality . . . maybe because she was working. Yet there was something about her, a bearing or vibe that held a rigid cynicism. I found it repellant and was glad she was ignoring me while spouting instructions to Evan, who just smirked and shook his head. 

She came by to drop off a few scripts she wanted Evan to look over, but those were sitting on the sofa when he softly kissed me before leaving with her. She was dropping him off at his hotel to get ready for tonight.

Ready for our first official date as a couple. I was ridiculously excited.

Lily said it was foolish to get attached, but that wasn't stopping me. That sudden onset of desire or infatuation, or maybe it was just the newness of it all—bottom line, I liked the way it felt to look forward to something and didn't want it to go away. There was nothing I could say to clearly express my connection without a reprimand from my surrogate protector. I was fully aware of how imprudent it seemed on my part. I barely knew him. The trouble was, I felt so sure of what I did know, it made the risks seem, oddly, inconsequential.  

We'd squawked back and forth a little—mostly because Lily was worried about me. Evan's personal relationships were news, which meant turbulence. And I was fragile. But so long as no one outside my house knew about us, everything would be fine. Still, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. Evan said I shouldn't worry; that it was the glare on him that would increase because I was not a public figure. He was willing to take it, too, even though he already lived in an intense spotlight with decoy cars and body guards. I supposed that I was bound to catch some glare, but hoped to blend into his shadow, just the same.

Lily didn't quite understand, because I'd always hated attention. And that kind of irritated me. She was pretty sacrificial herself when it came to love, but I had to cut her some slack. Evan wasn't her brother and that had to be weird for her. Still, she knew I needed all the support I could get to navigate the uncharted territory of a relationship. The crux of the matter was a simple difference of opinion. Lily didn't think Evan was worth the risk and I couldn't convince her that she was wrong.

I thought about all of this while stuffing myself into an old pair of leather pants. I'd had them so long they were back in style. I sucked in a deep breath and yanked up the zipper on the seam, then let out a huge sigh, thankful I could relax without busting anything. They were not the type of clothing I usually sported, but I loved them. They went nicely with the old band t-shirt I wanted to wear, too. I rolled up the sleeves and tucked in the hem, then turned, examining my reflection.

"That looks awful," Lily remarked from the doorway.

"What does?" I turned around again as she yanked the shirt out and twisted the bottom into a knot at my waist.