𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 is far from perfect. Before starting her senior year of college, she's already guaranteed her position as the black sheep of her once prestigious family. To make matters worse, she took up bedding the rival family's eldest...
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𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 later, Evelyn was seated in the front passenger side of a gorgeous baby blue Rolls Royce, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding and how viciously her body jerked as Michael drove with reckless abandon. Between asking for hints about their destination and fumbling with her appearance, she'd told him off for abusing the luxury vehicle. An inkling of annoyance sprang up as she did, but it didn't stay for long. After some sharp turns and aggressive gas-pedaling, she thought the situation almost comical. Finally, she found something that Michael Jackson wasn't good at.
"We should've picked up my car," Evelyn said after letting out a hiss, clutching the leather cushion beneath her thighs for dear life.
A grin split across Michael's face, his dark eyes dancing with amusement under the passing rays of golden sunlight that ducked behind the puffy clouds in view. "Just 'cause you're wearin' Toya's clothes, doesn't mean you have to act like her," he laughed as his large hands calmly wound the steering wheel through another impossibly wide left turn. "Besides, I don't think your car would've made it anyway. We got about 89 miles to go, miss."
She leaned forward slightly in her seat to direct her disbelieving stare to him. "Eighty-nine miles? That's gotta be like an hour and a half drive. Where the hell are we going, Michael?"
"You'll see soon, I promise. Just trust me. And relax," he told her, reaching over to pat her knee.
Evelyn knew she had done much of the first part already. But from the way her heart seemed to lunge against her rib cage from the simple touch, she doubted she could do the second part anytime soon. They were going on a date. Since they had left Hayvenhurst, her mind had taken the single word and ran miles with the definition of it, obsessing over the technicalities and possibilities. She had never been on a date. Not one worth all the fussing she had done over her appearance, anyway.
Because she had left all her belongings at the place she was reluctant to call home, she had to settle for borrowing something from his sister Latoya's pile of abandoned clothing. While she was grateful for being loaned the change of clothing, the frumpy pair of light wash jeans, white t-shirt and drab, thickly-stitched vest made her feel less than prepared for any romantic situation. The attire was better-suited for ushering at church despite Michael's insistence of otherwise. And his intense, irritating need for the destination to be a surprise made her insecurity all the more voracious.
As she stared out the passenger window and watched the line of houses, shops and road signs become more foreign with their distance from Hayvenhurst, her nerves ebbed to reveal a burning, fluttery-feeling sort of curiosity. More times than she could count on her hands, she had begged Jackie to take her out on a date, yet she didn't fully know why. She hated depending on Jackie, let alone any man, for anything. But every girl wanted to be wanted.
There were many times men would want her physically and use a date as a means to get her, but that wasn't the kind of desire she'd associated with romance or love. When she thought of romance, she thought of the black and white movies where a couple would hold each other, gazing longingly into each other's eyes because there was a connection that existed without the presence of lust.
