Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Twelve

Evan.

He stands directly before her front door, bathed in the glow of the single bulb above his head. Behind him the house is dark.

With wooden, trembling legs, Sophie walks the rest of the way to her front door. The cooling night air leaves goosebumps across her arms, forcing her to clutch her arms to her chest in a move that also serves to protect herself from whatever nightmare this visit is about to unleash. She stops a metre from Evan and can't bring herself to move any closer.

A few weeks ago she may have stood there smiling stupidly at him and wishing he would hold out his arms and she could melt into them. Especially after the night she had just had. But something felt different suddenly, and she was too tired to figure it out.

She looks at Evan. She still feels a deep connection and desire, and the anger is still there too, but it all feels vaguely muted tonight. Less overwhelming.

Evan steps comfortably toward her and bridges the gap between them. He's much closer than Sophie is comfortable with. He gives her his best flirty smile, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. If it were anyone else Sophie would have said he looked nervous.

"Evan." Sophie manages to say, her heart in her throat. What is he doing here?

"Hey, Soph." His voice is soft and familiar. A tribe of memories march forcefully through her head as she tries to focus.

"What do you want, Evan?"

His smile falters a bit at her tone. Uncertainty flares in his face. He takes a long time to answer her, and Sophie knows he is trying to read her before he opens up about whatever is on his mind.

"I wanted to see how you were," he finally says.

Sophie quickly runs through the possible reasons for his sudden concern in her head. Eventually, she determines that Jonas must have told him about the roses. She doesn't know if she is pleased or annoyed by this.

"Why?"

Evan shrugs casually, his hair falling in his face. He really is ridiculously handsome, Sophie finds herself thinking with immense irritation. "I saw you at the bar the other night," he says.

Sophie frowns, confused. She hadn't realised he had noticed her there.

"Ah, ok..." She isn't sure where this is going. "And..?"

"And I just really wanted to see you."

So... this wasn't about the stalker? "Why?" Sophie asks again, impatience beginning to flare in her chest. He watches her with that intense eye contact that makes her heart flutter. Tonight though, it's irritating her.

Evan sighs lightly. Whatever he's trying to do is not working. Sophie knows she isn't giving much away, but Evan was always very good at reading people. Surely he knows that this was a long shot. He runs a hand through his hair and for a split second looks nervous. "Look, Soph. Can we just go inside and talk?"

Sophie sighs. He's not going away. She could tell him to go away. But deep down she doesn't really want him to go. The rational part of her brain wants to run far, far away from him and never look back, but when does that side of the brain ever really win? "Tell me why you're here Evan, and then maybe we can talk."

Evan watches her intently. She can tell he is trying to figure out what to tell her. The truth or a part-truth? Maybe a complete lie? "I want to apologise." He finally says. He looks nervous again, and almost vulnerable. It looks like the truth may have won.

"Fine." Sophie concedes, shrugging. She's too tired to really care, and a better-late-than-never apology might be nice after the night she just had.

She lets him into the house, flicking various lights on as she moves from the hall into the kitchen. "Do you want a drink?" Sophie asks as she is already reaching for the vodka in the cupboard above the fridge. Without waiting for a response she grabs two glasses, pours messy shots, and downs her own immediately. Shutting her eyes briefly as she feels it burn all the way down, she waits until she feels it settle in her empty stomach before she passes Evan his drink. Then she pours herself another shot and downs that one too.

Evan is watching her with a mixture of alarm and amusement. "Is that on account of me?" He asks, indicating the twice-emptied glass.

Sophie rolls her eyes. "It's nothing to do with you, Evan." She is tempted to add another scathing comment to quickly deflate his arrogance but finds she is suddenly too tired to even bother. Now that she is home and safe, the shock of being chased down the street is fading and being replaced with exhaustion and a lingering dread. Who the hell was that? Did that have anything to do with the stalker's presence in her life? Was that the stalker? Did she even have a stalker?

Her head swims with unanswered questions and she reaches for the bottle again. Before she can pour another glass, however, Evan leans across the counter and places his hand over hers. He quickly stills her hand, and the bottle stays where it is. "What's going on, Soph?" He asks.

Sophie looks directly into his eyes as he leans across in front of her. For the first time tonight, his presence finally affects her. Butterflies escape in her stomach. Sophie curses under her breath. "Fine," she sighs. "I'll tell you."