It's Not Your Fault
Chapter 5
Evan’s apartment was enormous. His family owned about half of the top floor. They were absolutely loaded. The apartment was stocked with only the most expensive furniture, from a huge plasma TV in the family room, to the sparkly, chrome counters in the kitchen, to the fancy, vintage beds in Mr. and Mrs. Rivers’s bedroom. Evan’s parents were in the diamond business and just happened to have a knack for investing in all the right companies. They weren’t afraid to show their wealth.
Evan couldn’t stand his parents’ behavior. He hated anyone who flaunted their money and was always self-conscious when a conversation headed in that direction.
As I walked into his room, I noticed, as I did every time I went over, how much it stuck out. The carpet was a simple black and the walls were pale blue. The most expensive item in the room was his stereo. His bed and floor were littered with all sorts of unidentifiable items, making it a little difficult to navigate around the room.
Of course, I was used to all of this.
I pushed aside some old math homework to make room for myself on the bed, and then flopped onto the squishy and inviting mattress.
“Hey, sorry about ditching after school,” Evan said, running his fingers through his messy, chocolate brown hair. “I just really didn’t feel like making plans with everyone else, y’know?”
“It’s cool,” I said, nodding. “Everyone was busy, anyway.”
“Cool. Hey, put on some music, would ya?” he said, opening one of his dresser drawers to look for a t-shirt. At the moment, he was still wearing his school uniform. With his tall, lean, athletic body, he could easily pull off the prep school look. I noticed his eyes were gray today—he was worried about something. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
While Evan went to look for pants, I scrambled over to the other side of the bed, to where his stereo was. Well, the actual CD player part of it, for that matter. The speakers were built into the upper corners of the walls, made for surround-sound. I flipped through a stack of burned CDs lying on the bedside table until I found one labeled “Best Mixx.” I popped the disc into the player and turned the volume up.
“Aha!” Evan yelled. He stood up, brandishing a pair of crumpled jeans. I sniggered. He disappeared under the bed to look for socks. I relaxed against a pillow, opened my book, and started reading. Within minutes, I lost track of my surroundings and was completely absorbed in the book. In fact, I didn’t even notice it when Evan started changing. Not that I would’ve noticed anyway. It was part of our normal routine: I come over, we turn on the music, he changes his clothes, and I read. It gave me a sense of comfort to know that he didn’t care if he was shirtless around me. Not like I’d ever complain about it. Heh.
“Sprite?” Evan asked, heading towards the door while trying to pull an Abercrombie shirt over his head. I jumped and looked up. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Of course,” I said, glaring briefly at his shirt. He smiled and went into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
Instead of burying myself in my book again, I let my eyes wander over everything in the room.
God, I love that room—from its littered floor, to its fantastic music system, to its poster-covered walls. I remembered putting up half of those posters. I was responsible for Evan’s wide music taste. When we first started to really get along, I had asked him what kind of music he listened to. His response appalled me. “Anything that’s popular and on the radio” didn’t exactly constitute as good music taste. That same night, I burned him at least a dozen CDs. I told him not to talk to me until he had listened to every last song on those CDs.
He called me the next night to tell me he loved them, and to ask me if I could give him more music.
We kind of bonded from there.
The door flew open, bringing me back from my reminiscing. I only saw Evan’s face for a second before my vision was obscured by a blue and green object hurtling at my face.
Evan couldn’t stand his parents’ behavior. He hated anyone who flaunted their money and was always self-conscious when a conversation headed in that direction.
As I walked into his room, I noticed, as I did every time I went over, how much it stuck out. The carpet was a simple black and the walls were pale blue. The most expensive item in the room was his stereo. His bed and floor were littered with all sorts of unidentifiable items, making it a little difficult to navigate around the room.
Of course, I was used to all of this.
I pushed aside some old math homework to make room for myself on the bed, and then flopped onto the squishy and inviting mattress.
“Hey, sorry about ditching after school,” Evan said, running his fingers through his messy, chocolate brown hair. “I just really didn’t feel like making plans with everyone else, y’know?”
“It’s cool,” I said, nodding. “Everyone was busy, anyway.”
“Cool. Hey, put on some music, would ya?” he said, opening one of his dresser drawers to look for a t-shirt. At the moment, he was still wearing his school uniform. With his tall, lean, athletic body, he could easily pull off the prep school look. I noticed his eyes were gray today—he was worried about something. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
While Evan went to look for pants, I scrambled over to the other side of the bed, to where his stereo was. Well, the actual CD player part of it, for that matter. The speakers were built into the upper corners of the walls, made for surround-sound. I flipped through a stack of burned CDs lying on the bedside table until I found one labeled “Best Mixx.” I popped the disc into the player and turned the volume up.
“Aha!” Evan yelled. He stood up, brandishing a pair of crumpled jeans. I sniggered. He disappeared under the bed to look for socks. I relaxed against a pillow, opened my book, and started reading. Within minutes, I lost track of my surroundings and was completely absorbed in the book. In fact, I didn’t even notice it when Evan started changing. Not that I would’ve noticed anyway. It was part of our normal routine: I come over, we turn on the music, he changes his clothes, and I read. It gave me a sense of comfort to know that he didn’t care if he was shirtless around me. Not like I’d ever complain about it. Heh.
“Sprite?” Evan asked, heading towards the door while trying to pull an Abercrombie shirt over his head. I jumped and looked up. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Of course,” I said, glaring briefly at his shirt. He smiled and went into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
Instead of burying myself in my book again, I let my eyes wander over everything in the room.
God, I love that room—from its littered floor, to its fantastic music system, to its poster-covered walls. I remembered putting up half of those posters. I was responsible for Evan’s wide music taste. When we first started to really get along, I had asked him what kind of music he listened to. His response appalled me. “Anything that’s popular and on the radio” didn’t exactly constitute as good music taste. That same night, I burned him at least a dozen CDs. I told him not to talk to me until he had listened to every last song on those CDs.
He called me the next night to tell me he loved them, and to ask me if I could give him more music.
We kind of bonded from there.
The door flew open, bringing me back from my reminiscing. I only saw Evan’s face for a second before my vision was obscured by a blue and green object hurtling at my face.