Timeless |

10. June 3rd, 1940

  Just to Clarify: Evelyn Hawthorne never truly thought that she belonged anywhere until she moved to Austin, Texas. When she was back on her home land in Ireland, she felt like no one understood her but when she met Beaumont.

Everything she thought she was going to end up like, came crashing down and a new reality kicked start in. She found someone who likes her for her and not how she is supposed to act. A normal teenage girl with beauty and money. He likes her for her flaws, and her confidence.

She admires him for his qualities and his view on life. Evelyn can't not think about Beaumont all the time as he has corrupted her mind like the plague and she isn't scared at all. She found a man that likes her, a man that cares, a man that doesn't care what others think about him.

She wants Beaumont McKinley to be hers.

It's selfish to think that but she can't help but feel that way. He's in her life, so now she wants to have him for keeps. She never planned on allowing him in her mind, her heart, her life. But from the moment she and her mother walked into his fathers corner book store. She knew Beaumont would be in it for the long run.

And she doesn't mind that fact.

"Beaumont?"

From behind the wooden door, the said male presses his face into the pillow which was his vain attempt at re-reaching the depths of sleep. His hand comes up, palm against his ear was definitely to block the noise out but of course, none of these options work, and Beaumont can still hear the exhasperated voice.

He can't hear who's calling him as tiredness is still slipping through him. He turns his head against the wall, closing his eyes one more time as he pulls the covers to help block out the light and the noise. He assumes it's his father, calling him to take care of the store while he does some chores.

"Beaumont."

He groans, the sound drawn out in annoyance.
He doesn't care, he's tired but he will be awake soon if he knew who was waking him up this early. He sticks his hand under his pillow, feeling the coldness before relaxing into remedy for a moment of time but a knock wakes him up.

"There's no lock," Beaumont says, disgruntled words muffled through the pillow while kicking off the covers in a childish huff. "Stop knocking."

Taking the hint, the person who was calling out to him drags the door open. However, the person
pauses in the wooden arch. Beaumont's lying face-down, a jean-clad leg hanging off the bed and strong arms cradling the pillow. He's shirtless, again, leaving Evelyn with a perfect view of those dimples at his lower back.

She clears her throat.

Blinking, Beaumont squints at the wall closest to his face, the light burning his retinas. Flipping his head over the other way, it finally clicks who he'd let into the room without question. The eternal beauty of his life. He blinks his eyes, surprised to see her but the sleepiness is still getting to him that he doesn't get embarrassed - yet.

"Hey," Beaumont grumbles, stretching to the length of the bed with a satisfied groan. "I was sleeping."

Evelyn forces her eyes away while rolling her lip in between her teeth to stop herself from giggling and also keeping her stare away from his bare back. "It's the middle of the day," She says, stepping further into the room. "And you let me in."

"The knocking was annoying." Beaumont yawns, heaving himself up until his legs were off the bed and his toes brushed the ground. He blinks at Evelyn's paint splattered dress in a daze, his brain striving to wake up. He drags a hand through his hair once again, "Sorry."