"Hey, I don't need your damn charity."
I left my door open and guided Evan toward an oversized beanbag chair where a gentle push caused him to flop down on his back. "I knew you wanted to do more than talk," he laughed, patting the chair.
"Cut the shit, please," I said, sinking down on the edge of my bed. "I can't believe your dad sent you down here with a hurricane brewing."
"Please, you think he gives one rat's ass about me? Hell no." He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a long swig until he choked.
"You really should take it easy. Besides, I'm sure your dad cares about you," I argued.
He shot me an incredulous look while he attempted to dry the alcohol that had splattered all over his shirt. "You've never met my father. Nothing I do will ever live up to his expectations. He fucking hates me. He always has."
I couldn't fathom the idea of a parent hating their own kid. Even after all the trouble I'd caused in Huntsville, I never believed Butch and Buttercup would feel that way. "What about your mom? Doesn't she care that your dad sent you here when a hurricane is getting ready to hit?" I asked as a sudden gust of wind rattled my windows.
Evan took another swig from his flask, draining the contents. "Your room is sweet," he answered, avoiding my question. "All private and stuff. You sure you don't want to fool around?" His voice was starting to slur.
"Oh lord. Please stop."
His shield dropped and I could see the vulnerability etched deeply on his features. "Hey, you asked about my mom. She's too busy screwing her yoga instructor to care where I am."
"God, Evan, that sucks. At least you have your friends."
He lifted the flask to his lips to take another sip, obviously forgetting it was empty. He tossed it aside in disgust, staggering to his feet. "Friends, sure," he muttered, heading for my door.
"Evan, wait. You're in no condition to go out there," I said, jumping to my feet.
He turned to look at me. "I need more to drink."
I shook my head, grabbing his wrist with the intent to lead him back to the beanbag chair. "How about I go inside and get you some coffee instead?"
"I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me," he drawled, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
He leaned in with his mouth open, trying to kiss me. The alcohol wafted off him and his breath smelled stale and disgusting. Acting on instinct, my knee rose swiftly, thrusting to his nuts as he dropped like a sack of bricks at my feet. I stepped around him as he lay on the floor moaning with his hands between his legs. I knew I should have hated him even more, but I couldn't do it. Evan seemed like someone who needed a friend. It was probably the liquor controlling his actions. He was confused and distraught. Either that or I was a complete idiot.
I leaned over to make sure he was okay when he reacted by raising his head suddenly, connecting with the right side of my face. The impact made me see stars as a shot of pain radiated across my cheek. Evan jumped to his feet, the action seemingly shocking him into a mild sobriety. "Rain, are you okay? I swear I didn't mean to hurt you," he pleaded.
He tried grabbing my shoulders, but I shoved him away.
"It was a reflex move. I only wanted to kiss you. I wouldn't have done anything else. You have to believe me," he said.
The sound of the back door of my house opening distracted Evan, causing him to panic. "Fuck!" he said, scrambling in circles.
Butch called out my name as the light from the breezeway came on. "Out here," I replied just as he walked into my open doorway. He took one look at me holding my eye before turning to Evan who stood frozen like a deer in headlights.
"You son of a bitch!" Butch hollered as he launched toward Evan and tackled him to the ground.
"Butch, stop," I yelled as he reared back his fist to hit Evan. I pulled on his arm to hold him back even though my head was reeling and I could barely see.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Evan squirmed out of Butch's grasp and fled from my room. I ran to the door to stop him, but he had already faded into the darkness.
"What the hell is going on?" Butch asked, taking in my face that I could feel swelling with each passing second. "That punk attacked you and you let him go?"
Attempting to shake off my dizziness, I peered out into the darkness before turning back to Butch to explain. "He didn't attack me. Well, not like you think. We were just talking, but you spooked him when you showed up. He'd been drinking and I was trying to get him to chill enough to maybe get some coffee into him."
Butch shot me a look of disbelief. "You're telling me you know the guy?"
"Sort of, yeah." During the scramble, Butch didn't put together that Evan was the same guy he saw at the courthouse who had thrown the party that got me into trouble.
"Holy Christ, Rain. If he didn't hit you, then why is your face swelling up like a balloon?"