Evelyn

Chapter 7 - The Answer was Obvious

Chapter Song: Yellow by Coldplay

                                     Michael
Evelyn is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

I can't describe it. She's just...radiant.

Why? Why does she always make me feel warm when I'm around her? I don't know what to do with that feeling. But here I am.

And here she is.

Evelyn looks beautiful in everything she wears, but lavender is her color. Her dress fit her perfectly, it was almost as if it was made for her. I can imagine the finest designers in the world working to create a beautiful dress after they met her; a beautiful person.

I meet her gaze and she looks away with a barely concealed smile. a slight blush settling on her cheeks.

Is she shy? She has no reason to be.

"You look beautiful, Ev."

"Thank you. You look pretty too."

Fuck.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"Yeah, let's do it."

~~~

"Close your eyes."

"Why?" Evelyn asked, puzzled. We were walking up a hill and I didn't want her to see what I had planned at the top yet.

"Just trust me."

"Trust you, Batman? Always."

I smiled and she closed her eyes.

"May, I?" I asked, my arm outstretched towards her.

"May you what, Michael? I can't see what you're doing."

Oh. Right.

"I don't want you to fall, so may I take your arm and guide you to where we're going?"

"Such a gentleman."

Evelyn outstretched her arm blindly before I looped it in mine, walking us up to the top of the hill.

Then she continued talking. "You asked if I trusted you, I said yes. But I'm just now realizing that was naive of me. I mean, you could be an axe murder and you're just leading me to my death."

I lifted an eyebrow, "Do you really think that I'm an axe murder?"

"I don't know, that's the whole point. If you are, then you have some very good and elaborate planning to get me out here. You can easily murder me since it's dark, I have no coordination, and I'm wearing sandals so God knows I won't be able to run away."

Even though she thinks I might be an axe murderer, which I take mild offense to, I don't mind. Listening to her, I don't want her to stop. I never want her to stop talking, smiling, and being the sun, the moon, and stars.

"All I ask," she requested, "Is that you feed my fish when I'm gone. Don't eat him, though. He's just a betta fish, so he wouldn't make a good lunch, or even a snack, at that."

"I didn't know you had a fish."

"His name is Wasabi."