Embrace (Evolve Series #2) by S.E. Hall Read Free Book Online Page B

that. She doesn’t need me to tell her “I’m sorry,” because
pity doesn’t solve anything, nor does she want me to make a joke and lighten
things up; our pain is not to be trivialized.
    “Do you have any of your Coke left?” she asks me out
of nowhere, clearly done with the intellectual portion of our buzz. “I have,”
she smacks her lips, making the face of someone who just licked the bottom of a
shoe, “like absolutely no moisture in my mouth right now.”
    I can barely pass her my drink I’m laughing so hard,
when she again spurts out the random.
    “Evan, look!” she squeals, latching onto my arm. “Look
over there!”
    My eyes follow the end of her pointed finger to a
red balloon bouncing aimlessly along the ground.
    “Go catch it for me, pleasssseeeee?!”
    Um yeah, I can do that. No problem.  I lumber
out of the car, my head a bit foggy but the fresh air instantly helping that. Luckily,
the balloon’s lost most of its oomph, so I catch it easily, handing it to her when
I notice she’s now standing behind me.
    “Going flat, but still hang on, just in case. We
don’t want it losing its way again.”
    “Thank you.” She smiles, her voice low and tender.
“I’ll go put it in my car.”
    I watch her as she walks there, tucking the balloon
in the backseat with great care, then makes her way back to stand in front of
me.
     “I don’t want to be an underdog anymore. Do you?” I
had no idea it was coming out of my mouth, but it just did.
    Her face slowly lights up and she shakes her head
back and forth. “Not at all. I’m too cute to be an underdog, right?”
    I laugh, jealous of her resiliency. “Definitely too
cute,” I agree with a wink. “That settles it. We are now the opposite of
underdogs. We are—”
    I’ve almost made the connection when she shout-giggles
it for me.
    “We’re overcats!”
    “Hell yes we are! Over, badass, sexy, freaking cats!
And I say we officially start our journey, with say…” Again I have to stop and
think, but my partner in crime has it all figured out.
    “Tattoos!” she squeals, giving me a vibrant smile.
“I’ve always wanted a tattoo! Something my mother would think is ghastly!”
    “Did you just say ghastly?” I fail at containing my
laughter.
    Whitley is exactly the prim Ms. Proper who says
things like ghastly, and ten bucks says she gets a tiny butterfly or heart on
her ankle.
    “Okay, so maybe tomorrow we can—” I start.
    “There’s a tattoo shop one street over! I so bet they’re open, come on!” She’s dragging me by the hand as she says it.
    “Whitley, we’re gonna get busted. We’re messed up,
wandering the streets, leaving your car…” I can’t even articulate all the
things wrong with this plan.
    She turns back to look at me, puckering out her
bottom lip. “Evan, this is downtown. We aren’t the only stoned college kids out
right now. Relax.”
    If the debutante thinks I need to relax, I must be
acting like a phenomenal pussy, and we certainly can’t have that. “Hop on,” I
turn and bend, letting her jump on for a piggyback ride.

    W hitley is trying so hard not to turn up
her nose right now it’s hilarious. Her big blue eyes are about three times
their normal size, taking in every nuance of the shop. There’s indents in her
lower lip from her teeth that just loosened their grip, and her once creamy
complexion is now simply pale. I’m tempted to tease her, but don’t really want
to draw attention to our current “condition,” because I know they’ll turn us
away.
    “Y-you’ll go first, right?” she asks with a shaking
stutter to her voice.
    I lay one hand on her shoulder, squeezing
reassuringly. “I seem to remember this being your plan,” I remind her, quirking
a brow, “but yes, I will go first.”
    She lets out a deep breath, her face and shoulders
relaxing with it, and gives me a grin. “What are you going to get?”
    I have no idea. A tattoo should mean something,
right? I wrack my brain, but