➳ 𝐇𝐄 '𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

⊰ 𝟙 ⊱

REWRITE ~

LYLE CARVER IS A JACKASS.

Arms covered in various shapes and forms of black ink, I lost track after a while of how many tattoos he had. His deep-set jade eyes were bottomless like a swimming pool, and I wondered what was lurking beneath the waters within them. Not only in his eyes but beneath his ink as well. What was skin deep. Who he was a person.

Lyle Carver wasn't an open book. I could never read him.

I didn't know much about the six-foot-five guy now standing in my kitchen greeting my parents as he would be spending the entire summer break here in Brooksville, which left me questioning why he was now informing my parents he couldn't wait to 'see me.'

When we met when I was around five, The total of the twelve years that I've known of him, we've not once spoken or even interacted with each other. Besides the casually awkward exchanged glances and snickers he made when my brother made fun of me. But that was about it. Lyle Carver was my brother's best friend, not mine.

"Oh my goodness, look at you!" My mother cheered, squeezing his cheeks.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Finley! He chuckles, dimples showcasing on both his cheeks.

My father puts a hand on his broad shoulder.

"Why don't you go ahead and get settled in, son. Evie will be here if you need anything. Marleen and I have reservations to attend to."

Lyle sends my father a head nod then reaches down, grabbing his luggage. The veins in his arms stand out, and I watch his chocolate brown curls as they fall elegantly over his eyebrows. Then he looks up, his eyes locking with mine.

"Hey, Evie," His voice is deep and stern, but his eyes are soft and welcoming.

I stand in silence for a few moments debating if he was actually speaking to me. I had never once heard my name leave Lyle Carver's full lips in the entire time I had known of him. The whole experience was very foreign.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Shock and confusion must be the culprit. So instead, I simply give Lyle an awkward wave. I watch as his eyebrows crease into a line of thought, as if he's thinking I'm some sort of mute.

"So, you wanna help me, or-" He begins, his eyes scanning over my face. "You just gonna stand there?" He's chuckling softly now.

He probably thinks I look absolutely ridiculous standing on the staircase, with my mouth slightly open like a fish out of water due to the sight of him.

I clear my throat, "Uhm, yes. sorry." I grab one of his suitcases.

Lyle gestures for me to walk up the stairs first. My eyes sail unintentionally over the tattoos on his arm, which he seems to notice because his lips curl into a smirk, and his famous dimples begin to show.

"Do you like it?" He says, holding his arm out for me to get a better look.

I nod. "Yeah, you're very prett- the tattoos are very pretty."

I turn on my heel quickly, the sensation of blood rushing to warm my cheeks out of embarrassment. Lyle seems oblivious to my almost mess up of words. Either that, or he's just simply being nice.

I lead Lyle up to the guest bedroom, which he'll be staying in for the next few months. Lyle doesn't seem to say anything to me as we make our way up the stairs to the bedroom, and for a second, I consider the thought that maybe he had gone back to disregarding my presence.

I was wrong.

He stops on the way past my room. His attention is completely fixated on it as he scans the inside.