back home. thank you for tonight.
Sounds similar to what you had me text Donny.
shut up, kingston.
Glad I could help. :)
seriously think you should sleep, though.
Will do, Doc.
Sleep well, Everleigh Meadowlark.
good night, kingston maverick.
Despite Everleigh saying good night, she spent the time she should've been sleeping studying her ass off and bent over her toilet with her fingers down her throat. (Somehow, studying ended up being the lesser of two evils but she still chose the greater over it.) Her mother was an easy person to blame for eating problems—you look so thin, she would say, scooping more roasted sweet potatoes onto Everleigh's plate, you need to eat more—but Everleigh's brain still blamed herself more.
You still ate a whole plate, her brain would say as she gagged. You didn't have to eat a piece of cake and ice cream.
Everleigh lost her train of terrible thoughts with her dinner in the bottom of the toilet bowl. Purging made Everleigh feel weak but thinking about her conversation with Maverick made her feel weaker. What the fuck was she thinking telling him all of that? He didn't need to know nor did he care enough to remember it in the morning.
Everleigh needed to find a way to see him if nothing else to get his phone back to him and crawl back into herself, never to feel another fucking thing again. She swallowed hard, nearly gagging on the taste of her vomit. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and dribbled down her neck.
When she regained enough energy to get up, Everleigh leaned against the counter as she brushed her teeth again. Part of her wanted to call Juno or Maverick or Florence or, God, even Esmé to try and get someone to block out the shitstorm flying around in her brain with casually stupid conversation, and the other part of her wanted to crawl into a ball and never bother anyone with her presence ever again.
She spat out a mouthful of toothpaste in her sink. Gargled water until she had the thought to drown herself and promptly spat the mouthful of that out, too. Fuck, Everleigh needed some sleep. Travelling shouldn't have taken that much out of her given her career, but it always did.
Maybe she'd make up and magically be okay in the morning. Maybe she simply wouldn't wake up.
Christ, Everleigh needed to get done with med school. She couldn't handle being this beat anymore.
*
It had been a couple days since Everleigh's last purge. Which meant she was probably due back at her mother's considering:
One. She'd come to London to spend time with her family even though they pissed her off to no end.
Two. If she didn't, her mother would have a whole new slew of complaints about her life choices and that wasn't something she ever needed. Mainly because it was her birthday and her mother just had to give her a day all about her—whether Everleigh wanted it or not.
Everleigh hadn't meant to stay up until midnight. The anxiety of her impending exam had her wide awake almost nightly. Nights where she couldn't focus on studying and then panicked because she wasn't studying were the worst. That was one of those nights. And the main reason she'd invited an ex-boyfriend-turned-friend-with-benefits over earlier that night to alleviate and forget about some of the stress she was putting herself through. That had been okay while it lasted, but she sent him home right after.
Maverick's phone buzzed on her nightstand, Everleigh picked it up and unlocked it.
Happy birthday, Everleigh Meadowlark.
do you ever sleep?
thank you.
Sometimes.
Positives of travelling.
You probably knew that already.
Sorry.
i get it for sure.
thought tours were exhausting.
midnight is non-plausible for rockstars.
Rockstars? LOL
That's the difference.
I'm a DJ. :)
dumbass, Everleigh nearly typed. But the laugh it caused was enough to keep her nastiness to herself. For once in her life. Is that what it meant to be twenty-seven? God, grow Everleigh back down.
should probably get to sleep.
kingston maverick's need sleep too.
You're like my mother.
Doesn't even tell me her birthday plans.
Kicks me away from talking to her.
Come on, Everleigh Meadowlark.
(Do Everleigh Meadowlark's not need sleep?)
i thought you hated texting.
(no, we don't. we're nocturnal.)
I do. But you seem to prefer it and it's your day.
colour me chuffed.
Any plans for the day?
write an exam today and pop champagne after it's over.
survive afterwards until i go to vegas by myself.
I take it things are still going shitty?
i keep being told to talk to my sister's stomach.
and my sister keeps calling me auntie.
which i get that i AM. but still. it's weird.
Super weird. I'm sorry.
You're going to Vegas?
it's a long story.
but i was supposed to see MARS.
to make it short, i'm not.
so i'm just hanging out.
What days?
I know MARS is there for New Year's.
But how long are you there?
29-1.
Maverick didn't respond for a minute. Everleigh was half hoping he'd fallen asleep. He needed to with his show the next day. (That day?) (Everleigh lost track of what to call the days when it passed midnight.)
Maverick's phone started ringing and nearly made Everleigh leap out of her skin. Jesus Christ, she was glad she asked the man she'd slept with earlier that night to go home. She would've woken him up the way she jumped—probably would've woken him up when she snuck out of bed for a midnight bowl of cocoa puffs as well.
"A warning, Kingston." Everleigh turned the light on her nightstand and winced as her eyes adjusted to the light.
"You're really in Vegas on the thirty-first?" Maverick looked far too awake for potentially anywhere between eleven at night and one in the morning for wherever he was—Everleigh wanted to guess France.
"No, I made it up."
"I'm in Vegas on the thirty-first."
Everleigh sat up. "Really?"
"Really."
"I thought you were touring Europe. Thirty cities or some shit."
"Twenty. And they changed dates when we lost a couple venues. Only eighteen now, twenty-eight cities." Maverick grinned. "Thought I'd go bug Stevie as a New Year's gift to her."
"Best of luck. Tickets have been sold out for a year now."
"But I'm me."
"Someone thinks highly of himself."
"Stevie and I are good friends."
"Sure you are."
Maverick smiled but didn't say anything. He looked like he wanted to.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"'Cause there will be a time, maybe relatively soon, where I know you're going to eat your words," Maverick said, "and while I know you don't want to talk to me after you get your phone back, I can't wait to know you'll be sitting there stewing. It's great."
"I don't stew."
"Sure you don't."
Everleigh stared at him for a moment. "You're eating whatever the fuck this is up, aren't you?"
"I really am." Maverick's smile cracked into a full-faced grin. "It's going to be sweet."
"And you can't tell me now?"
Maverick shook his head.
Everleigh pursed her lips. "I'll bite. Can I guess?"
"I'm not allowed to say anything, Everleigh Meadowlark." Maverick laughed. "Whether you guess right or not. It's an NDA thing."
"Fine."
"Believe me, if I could, I would. Just to see your reaction."
Everleigh rolled her eyes. "Sorry you'll never get to see that."
"I am too."
"How was the concert?"
"It was good. Really good." Maverick adjusted his hearing aid. "Still feels like falling in love."
"Where are you?"
Maverick smiled. "Portugal."
"I love Portugal. It's gorgeous."
"Yeah, it is," Maverick said. He pulled his lips to the side for a moment, then pressed them together. Opened, closed. Opened again as he asked, "Do you want to talk about your newfound auntiehood?"
Everleigh groaned. "I can't believe she's done this to me. As if me not bringing someone home for Christmas wasn't bad enough."
"You didn't want to bring Donny Brisbane?" Maverick laughed.
"I know you're kidding," Everleigh said, "but I almost did one year. It was ridiculous."
Maverick laughed. "No fucking way."
"Let's say I'm not the kind of person to bring people to Christmas," Everleigh said. "Both because I hate people and that they hate me."
"Who could hate Everleigh Meadowlark?"
Everleigh laughed. "You haven't known me long enough to know that that answer is a lot of people."
"Seriously?"
"I'm not exactly warm and cuddly, Kingston."
"And here I was thinking that you cared about me when you told me you were happy I wasn't trying to have kids."
Everleigh choked on her own spit at that one, causing Maverick to break out into a fit of laughter. She put a hand to her chest when she finally caught her breath. "I forgot about that."
"So I'm not special?" Maverick feigned a pout. "You tell that to all your DJs?"
"I tell that to anyone who sticks a condom in my face the moment I meet them, yes."
"Like Donny?"
Everleigh laughed. "Donny actually bought me a drink and openly admitted he wasn't looking for anything serious."
"Romantic."
"It was refreshing. I liked the honesty."
"Wow."
"That better not have been judgemental."
"It wasn't," Maverick said. "I promise."
"What about..." Everleigh trailed off, pretending to think of the name. Truth was, Rhylan came to her brain almost immediately. She just needed to remember what Maverick had called her in front of Everleigh. "Fucking... fuck... Rhy? Something like that? What about her?"
Maverick swallowed hard. "You really want to know?"
"I really want to know."
"See? How am I supposed to think you hate me when you say things like you really want to know about my... Rhylan."
"Maybe I'm just a nosey bitch."
"Are you?"
Everleigh shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Considering I haven't seen you release anything from my phone, I'll trust you with this."
"You got nudes I'm supposed to be selling to Dante Juarez?"
"You know who Dante Juarez is but you don't have one of my songs on your phone—"
Everleigh laughed. "I will download the lyric one and Lost in Translation in Vegas. You can watch me do it."
"The lyric one, how dare you," Maverick teased. "Can't even remember the title of my song."
"That's because the song title was long—" Everleigh's eyes widened. "I Liked You Before The Lyrics Said So."
Maverick dropped her phone onto his bed and clapped his hands on the camera. "And she wins double jeopardy!"
"As a double jeopardy winner, I request that, if you're comfortable, you should stop avoiding talking about your Rhylan."
Maverick popped his head into the camera again. "I cannot believe you won't let me avoid my problems."
"Guilty."
Maverick took the phone in his hand again. "Rhylan is... was? I'm really not sure what tense to use her in, forgive me if I keep switching."
A sudden sinking feeling hit Everleigh in the stomach. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was kidding."
Maverick swallowed hard. "I'll tell you in Vegas. That okay?"
"Only if you want to."
"Rather do it in person."
"You mean video call isn't in person?"
Maverick smiled. "Can't hang up on me when it gets stupid."
"I wouldn't do that."
"Don't say things you don't mean."
Everleigh bit the inside of her cheek, held her phone up between her knees as she tapped on her chest with a flat palm. I.
"Everleigh—"
Everleigh tapped two fingers horizontally against her outstretched palm, then turned her wrist and tapped the two fingers vertically. Mean.
"Everleigh—"
Everleigh held her pinky up before sticking her thumb between her index and middle finger in a fist. I-T.
Maverick swallowed hard. "I don't know what you just said—signed. But I promise that no one, except maybe Esmé, has sat through the torture that is the story of Rhylan and I. And you'll probably think lesser of me once you hear it."
"Can't be any less stupid than me complaining about my sister's happiness."
"Guarantee it can."
"Kingston."
"Yes, Everleigh?"
"You don't have to tell me in Vegas either if you don't want to."
"I'm never going to talk to you again after, right?" Maverick shrugged. "Might as well."
Everleigh swallowed hard and ignored the terrible feeling in her stomach. She needed to sleep the panic off and wake up to more, proper panic. Exam panic.
Dear God, she had exam panic.
*
Happy birthday and happy last exam day.
Enjoy something less stressful on me. :)
Have a good one, Everleigh Meadowlark.
Everleigh didn't expect to get out of her exam with a text from Maverick with a screenshot of an electronic gift card for Greggs. Something in her brain tried calling out to her how many calories were in lattes and cappuccinos and, by God, flat whites. But Everleigh loved the sparkling raspberry lemonade and nothing would make her stop herself from grabbing one.
meal on me in vegas. promise.
thank you.
Greggs is the British one, right?
I remembered it was good but got nervous.
Too many places in the world in my head.
yes, greggs is the british one.
please tell me you've had the raspberry lemonade.
Will have to try when I'm in London.
it's a 10/10.
You would know.
That was stupid.
Ignore me.
I haven't slept yet.
Good night, Everleigh Meadowlark.
Enjoy your Greggs.
Everleigh wanted to ignore how weird every part of that text from Maverick was. It was too early to begin to comprehend anything she could read into for that. Far too early. Everleigh needed raspberry lemonade and potentially some tomato soup for breakfast. (Shut up.) (Judging her was moot when she threw up most of her meals.) (She needed to flatten the panic in her chest over the fact she'd offered to eat a meal with Maverick without thinking about the repercussions of that.)
Everleigh dragged herself out of bed and showered quickly. Water hot enough to fog her mirrors and not stare at herself in the reflection. Towel drying and throwing on a pair of jeans—sans tears in the thighs, it was snowing still—and a sweater, Everleigh pulled boots and a jacket on and headed out. The closet Greggs was a short walk away and the thought of sparkling raspberry lemonade would be the death of her if she didn't get a bottle soon.
Snow crunching under her boots, Everleigh began her walk. She appreciated it wasn't presently snowing, but her breath still fogged in front of her as she strolled down the street. Hands in her pockets, Everleigh felt her phone ring as she rounded the first corner.
"You know, you really do need to sleep."
"When did ya change your phone number?"
Everleigh stopped walking. "Florence?"
"Yeah, it's Florence, you plonker." Florence never had grown out of talking to Everleigh like she was her mother and not her sister. "How'm I supposed ta get a hold of you if you're changin' your bloody number and not telling anyone?"
"It's not a permanent change." She carried on with her walk, but kept her voice down. Nothing worse than being in public having a conversation people could hear as she walked past. (She would never live down the look she got while in the drugstore looking for Plan B for Florence with her sister on the phone convinced she'd gotten chlamydia the night before. Christ, the old woman behind the counter looked like she was about to have a heart attack.)
"Should hope not. Lad on the other line sounded nice, but not what I was fuckin' expecting."
"Flo, we talked about this, no swearing—" Roman's voice was easy to hear in the background, no matter how hard he'd tried to keep it down. "We have a baby on the way."
"Sorry," Florence said. "You got a boyfriend and haven't... fudgin' told anyone?"
"No, I don't."
"Who was that then?"
Everleigh sighed. "Are you doing anything today?"
"That's not an answer—"
"For fuck's sake, Flo, I'm asking if you want to come to brekky with me and I can explain."
"Oh." Florence stayed quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I'd love to. Where?"
"Greggs. Near my flat."
"Still at the same flat, yeah? Not moved and haven't told anyone?"
"You're disinvited—"
"Hang on a mo', I'm kidding." Florence laughed. "Yeah, I'll be there in twenty. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Leigh?"
"What?"
"You can tell me anything you want," Florence said. "I am your sister."
Everleigh looked down for a moment. Bit her tongue to keep from saying something nasty about Florence's pregnancy to her. She'd promised she'd be nice and intended to do her best. "I'll keep that in mind."
"See you there, Leigh. Love you."
"Love you too."
"Oh! Leigh!"
"What?"
"Happy birthday."
Everleigh hated that. She hated it so much.
"See you soon, Florence." Everleigh hung up the phone.
She despised that she was an afterthought. That Florence had chosen bickering with her and mothering her rather than say it first thing. Everleigh spent her entire life being second best and there was a motherfucking reason she didn't care all that much about her birthday. Why she spent it alone and by herself on a day that wasn't even the same as when she was expelled from a uterus.
Everleigh continued to walk toward the Greggs as she fought every urge to turn around and cancel on Florence. She would treat today like any other day, like she always did, and in a couple days she would be back to work like nothing had happened. Then there was Vegas. And Maverick. And getting her phone back, which would bring her back to her normal life of doing nothing and talking to no one, spare a couple random men in different continents that she only used for nights. That was fair. That was Everleigh. She just needed to get there. And twenty-seven would be spectacularly not any different than twenty-six was. Perfect.
Walking into the Greggs was like walking into a home. It smelled of espresso beans and pastries and sausage rolls. Everleigh waited in line and grabbed a bottle of sparkling raspberry lemonade when she passed the food case before the till. She scanned it when she walked up, looking at the cashier.
"Could I have a tomato soup as well, please? Small?"
The cashier punched it in and read Everleigh her total.
"I have this gift card," Everleigh said, pulling up the barcode on her phone and scanning it. "And I'll pay the rest on debit."
The cashier pressed a button on the till. "Looks like you actually did have enough. Did you want the receipt to know what's left on the card?"
"Um. Sure. Yeah. Thanks." Everleigh took her lemonade bottle off the counter as the receipt printed and was handed to her. She walked over to where her soup would be ready in a moment and stared down at the receipt. Everleigh had assumed Maverick had only loaded a couple quid on the card, enough for a coffee or something.
Her jaw damn near dislocated when she saw there was forty quid and some change still left. What the hell? It was Greggs. Cheap coffee and a pastry Greggs. Not the fuckin' underwater restaurant in Maldives. Bloody hell. Everleigh owed him a good dinner.
Everleigh started typing a scolding message to Maverick when her tomato soup cup was brought up to the handoff counter. She thanked the barista and grabbed it before scoring a table away from the door—and further, the snow.
She needed to think straight. There was a chance he'd meant to get her a five pound card and had pressed the zero by mistake, right? She'd simply send him the receipt, thank him for the soup, and let him use the rest of it while he was in London at the end of the European branch of his tour. That was reasonable, right? Christ.
It didn't take long for Florence to show up, Everleigh was finishing her soup when she walked in the door. Everleigh liked Roman but was thankful Florence hadn't brought him, this was going to be stupid enough explaining to her sister without him being there to offer commentary.
Florence had a decaf oat milk cappuccino—Everleigh didn't know how she stomached all the foam—and four hashbrowns that she'd drowned in ketchup. Breakfast of champions, really. (Everleigh shouldn't have judged.)
Florence sat down with a kind smile. The same one that greeted Everleigh when she was in grade school and Florence had since graduated. Everleigh almost liked the familiarity. "You're sure you want to get into this today? Right now? We could go to a film or something instead. I'm sure there's some horror on—"
"Might as well." Everleigh only cut her off because she knew it she didn't, her sister would talk forever. It was bad enough Everleigh had to admit the stupidity of the last few weeks of her life, she didn't need the constant interruption to stall her.
Florence nodded. "Okay. Go ahead. Wherever you want to start."
Everleigh hadn't felt lighter than when she told Florence the story and ended with, "So, really, I didn't change my phone number, I just have Kingston Maverick's phone for the next couple weeks before I get mine back." (She had left out the talk in the snow with Maverick when she was upset about being compared to Florence. That wouldn't have gotten her anywhere good.)
Florence sipped her cappuccino. "That's... interesting."
"And now this wanker has given me a fifty fucking quid Greggs gift card even though I specifically said I didn't want to talk to him after our phone exchange, but now I'm not sure if that's true."
"Really?"
Everleigh cracked open the sparkling lemonade bottle and downed too big of a gulp. She coughed into her fist for a moment as the carbonation flew up her nose. "I'm confused and he's annoying, but he's also great to talk to."
Florence laughed. "Is he annoying because he's actually annoying or is he annoying because he's not annoying when you had a preconceived notion he would be?"
Everleigh hadn't considered that. But it didn't fucking matter. Rhylan was still the centre of his phone with her ring that Everleigh was certain Maverick had given her, so she was doing herself a favour by not talking to him after the exchange. "I don't know."
Florence hummed. "That was a long pause for someone who doesn't know."
"Well. Yeah." Everleigh nodded. "What about it?"
"Think you do know and don't want to admit it."
"I think he's annoying. That's a fact."
"Roman can be annoying sometimes."
"That's different."
"How so?"
"Because you're both annoyingly in love and that works for you."
"Does it?"
"Yes."
"And where does that leave you and your DJ?"
"He's not my—" Everleigh groaned. "You missed the entire point of the story."
"What was the point?"
"That he's annoying but I think I want to be friends. But every fuckin' time he has the chance he reminds me that I opened my fat fuckin' mouth and basically told him to get fucked and I don't know what to do to reverse that."
"And you think he wants to be friends?"
"I'm not a bloody mind reader, Flo."
"Does he take your shit when you act like this?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're being annoying and I don't think you know it."
"Thank you for that, wow, lovely to know."
"I'm seriously, Leigh." Florence wrapped her hands around her cappuccino cup. "Sometimes it's like you think you're the only one in this world who's not got their ticks. And I think that if Maverick—"
"His name's Kingston."
"Whatever. If he's put up with your shite for a couple weeks straight now and bought you fifty quid gift cards for Greggs, then maybe he wants to spend a little more time talking to you in spite of the fact you're being fuckin' annoying."
Everleigh glared at her sister. Florence sent her a narrow eyed am I wrong? that made Everleigh take a long, slow sip of raspberry lemonade while she thought about exactly what to say next.
"And now you're stalling because you still think you're right."
Everleigh swallowed her gulp. "I still think he meant to give me five pound and gave me fifty by mistake."
"That's a good conversation starter to lead into hey, do you still want to be friends even though I'm annoying—"
"Oh, shut up, Flo."
Florence laughed. "Finish your lemonade. We're going to find a shitty film to watch today. My treat."
"You get too scared and break your water, I'm not delivering that kid in the middle of the theatre."
Florence pointed a finger at her sister and winked. "See what I mean by annoying?"
Everleigh flipped her off, but didn't say she was wrong.