Somewhere in the Middle

He Was Talking

All was quiet. For the most part, anyway.

Evie had her headphones in, and she was listening to Crossing Astor. She'd been doing that more often these days, listening to the words, wondering where they came from, what they meant, who they were for—but tonight, in the close quarters of the bus, she was also avoiding a certain someone.

Lucas had gone to bed about an hour ago, giving up on trying to get her to pay any amount of attention to him. What he didn't realize was that she was completely aware of him at all times, and it was a relief when he left the front lounge, to see the back of him head towards his bunk.

It had been two days since she'd kissed him. Since he'd kissed her and she hadn't stopped him. And she didn't want to regret it, but she did. And she didn't want to avoid him, but she had to. And she didn't want to feel like she no longer belonged on the bus, but she did. Because it felt like she'd gone behind everyone's backs, especially her own. Especially after the promise she'd made to herself after Eric, after he...

She hated that she'd even started thinking about it again. She'd gotten so strong. She'd hardened her heart—or thought she had. And then Lucas came along, and it was like he'd lit a fire somewhere in her chest, melting everything surrounding her heart until it was vulnerably beating again, too close to the flame.

She hated it. She wanted to hate him, but she knew she didn't. She didn't think she'd ever be able to. Lucas didn't try to talk to her. Not yet anyway. She knew he wouldn't be able to stay away too long.

Unless he didn't like kissing her, but she didn't want to even consider that.

Not only did embarrassment and shame have her hiding behind her books and headphones whenever they had a spare moment of togetherness. Fear also kept her from being too available. Fear that she'd already given in once, and if he tried to talk to her again, tried anything more again, she'd give in. She knew she would.

As much as she regretted the kiss and all that it meant—to him and to her—she also couldn't stop thinking about it. Remembering the way he'd held her, gently at first, when he wasn't sure she would reciprocate. But then she did, and his grip tightened, and he kissed her like he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance again. Desperation, want, and exhilaration were all in that kiss, in the touch of his tongue to hers, the warmth of his hands on her body, and the steady pressure of them, grasping and pressing to ensure she didn't go anywhere he didn't want her to.

Evie closed her eyes where she sat in the booth in the front lounge. She hadn't been able to focus on her work in who-knows-how-long anyway, but she didn't think she could sleep either. And now, thinking about kissing Lucas again, about maybe allowing herself to open up to him once more—but no—she was too wired to even consider it.

She startled when she opened her eyes again, because someone was standing in the doorway to the hall, watching her.

She pulled a headphone out. "Sorry," she said. "I was just -"

"You're fine," Jamie said, though he didn't meet her eye. He just walked over to the coffee pot.

In all the confusion of the last couple of days, she hadn't really had time to think about her last conversation with Jamie—the way he'd sought her out, made sure to say that he wanted to try, that he was ready to try to be agreeable. And ever since, she'd done her best to avoid all of them - Jamie, Greg, Pete, and even Henry - except when it was absolutely necessary, afraid they'd see in her eyes what she'd done, and the way she was sick with guilt over it.

Seeing him now, she couldn't help feeling some guilt over that, too. She'd been the one to push him into opening up after all, and she'd done her best to ignore him over the last couple of days.