Chapter Seven

                                    

                                          
Evelyn
There was a knock on the door before Anna walked inside my room. "So, how was tonight?" 
"A little shitty." I sighed, sitting down so I could undo the straps of my heels. "Dean's a dick." 
Anna sat down next to me on the edge of my bed, and propped her elbows on her thighs. 
"I thought we went over this." 
"He kept telling me how good I am at being his fake girlfriend like I was the world's best actor." 
"And that made you mad?" She asked, with a cocked brow. 
"Yes, it did. Because I was being genuine with him." 
I gave her my back so she could help unzip my dress, and she obliged. I stood up and kicked it to the floor before reaching for a makeup wipe from my bedside table. 
"The charity event was for kids that grew up like him. You know, alone and in orphanages?" 
She nodded her head, letting me know she was listening. 
"It made me cry. I was crying and clapping for him, and I meant it. I meant it, and he just came and fucked it all by saying how proud he is that I'm playing my role right." 
"Evelyn, honey, it is a role. You're not his. I thought maybe he liked you, but maybe he's just a sadistic asshole who gets off knowing he's blackmailing you." 
I let out a loud breath of air. "I thought that the time we spent apart made my little crush go away, but it didn't. It's not even close to being away."
"It's back, and it's on mega-steroids. I literally got off this morning thinking about him. I know he's playing with me and toying around because he thinks it's funny, and I'm just Nick's little sister. What do I know?" 
Anna gasped. "Hold up. You got off this morning, thinking about him doing what?" 
"I was thinking about his hands," I muttered as I reached for another makeup wipe. "His stupid manly hands."
"He does have nice hands." She spoke, and I glared at her. "Evelyn, you can't get too attached. This is a game. A three-month-long game."
"If you get too close now, you'll only be left more heartbroken when it ends. Try your best to keep it professional between the two of you."
"Just tell yourself that it's all fake and that he doesn't care about you. It'll take time, but your heart will get the gist. Hopefully." 
Yeah, hopefully. 
The following day I had plans to have lunch with my parents. So, after picking up whatever groceries, my mother forgot I headed out. I parked my car in my parent's driveway that led to the garage and grabbed the bags. 
I locked my car and walked up the gravel, past the rose bushes, and up the steps. I pulled out my spare key for their house and unlocked it as I let myself in.
"Mom! Dad! I'm here." I shouted as I kicked off my sneakers at the door. 
"We're in the kitchen!" I heard my father shout. 
My parent's house was a two-story white and dark blue Colonial house with a gable roof with Tuscan pillars. You could see the bedroom lights through the french door windows from the outside. 
It had three bedrooms and three bathrooms, all located on the upper level of the house. The study was the first room on your right when you walked inside the house, and the second room was the kitchen with the adjoined dining room.