Somewhere in the Middle

Don't

Evie left her books and papers behind, laid out across her bed, and tiptoed to the door despite the fact that she was the only person in the room.

But it felt strange to be sneaking out of her hotel room in the dead of night, when they had such an early call in the morning to get into Manhattan with time to spare. So when the door clicked closed behind her, leaving her alone in the empty hallway, it felt downright wrong.

She should've been sleeping. But when she couldn't fall asleep, she'd tried to get some work done. But when she couldn't focus on her work, she found herself there—tiptoeing out of her bedroom and down the hall at nearly two in the morning, hoping that this might be able to quiet her brain enough for sleep.

Because her mind had gone into overdrive since Luke had left her at her door. Since he'd smiled at her and told her what a great time he'd had with her today. Since he'd joked that it didn't have to end there. Since he'd stolen another kiss after she'd told him that yes, it did have to end there. Since she watched him back down the hallway, his eyes on hers the entire time. Since she'd closed her door even though he hadn't looked away.

She didn't mind any of that—especially the extra kiss, which was just short enough that she couldn't get too upset with him, but just long enough to leave her wanting more.

No. What she couldn't seem to stop replaying was the scene with Pete and Jamie from earlier in the day, right smack dab in the middle of Allentown, Pennsylvania.

Evie knocked twice—two quick taps of her knuckles in the hopes that he might still be awake. She could've sworn she'd heard something just before she'd rapped at the door, but all was quiet for several moments. So quiet, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.

She knocked again, a little louder this time. And when silence still echoed around her, she contemplated just forgetting the whole thing and going back to her room, maybe taking a Benadryl or something to fall asleep.

But then the door opened.

And Jamie looked at her with furrowed brows, a bare chest, and a guitar held aloft directly adjacent to his boxer shorts.

"Evie?" he asked, too calm. Too, too calm. "What's, uh..." he seemed to realize he was in nothing but his boxers, but after a quick glance down at himself, didn't seem to mind. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, too quickly, nervous now that he was standing in front of her. And that he was half naked. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," he said, pulling the door closer to himself as he leaned toward her in the hallway. So that she couldn't see inside his room. He smiled a little then, and the sight that normally made her smile, too did nothing for her now. "To what, uh - what do I owe the pleasure?"

Evie felt her brow crinkle in confusion, but pressed on, a little too nervous and too weighted down by her thoughts to wonder what that might mean or imply. "Uh... well... could I come in for a sec?"

Jamie's eyes flashed up to hers, and she was surprised to see a hardness in them that she hadn't seen there in weeks. "Why?"

She tried to ignore the anger that colored just the one word, but it proved to be a difficult task. "Are you busy? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt if you were -"

"I'm writing," he said then. Short. Curt. To the point.

"Oh," Evie said, tangling her fingers round and round each other. "Well, uh... I - I'll leave you to it then."

She didn't even have time to turn before Jamie sighed and grabbed her arm.

"Come on," he said, almost sounding annoyed with her—like she was a child asking to stay with him after she'd awoken from a nightmare.