𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 ~ | 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤

XVIII

Chapter Eighteen:

~ No is Spanish for no, Señor ~

"Fuck off, Leclerc." I snapped, not even turning my head to give him the satisfaction.

"Eve, come on." Charles sighed, pulling his car over next to me.

I kept walking, my pace unchanged despite the ache in my legs. I had never been more miserable in my life. The rain fell harder, soaking my clothes and hair even more. It was starting to get difficult to see, the world blurring together into a wet, gray mass.

"Evangeline!"

I heard footsteps splashing through the puddles behind me, getting closer and closer. He was chasing me. Well, if he wanted to play tag, I wasn't going to stop just because it was raining.

Sadly, he had an advantage. 

Shoes.

His hand was on my wrist, his grip gentle but firm. He turned me back to face him. His hair was darkening as the rain soaked him. His eyes met mine, and something flickered behind them. I couldn't tell if it was anger or something else.

"You can't keep running from me, Eve," he said softly.

"Watch me!" I tried to yank myself free, but he held me, somehow managing to not hurt me.

"Please, let me take you home." He didn't let go of my wrist, his grip still firm. His face was etched with concern, his eyes pleading. I wanted to pull away, but something about the way he looked at me made me hesitate.

"No! Of course not!" I snapped myself out of it. "I'm never, ever, ever going to go anywhere with you. I'm perfectly fine walking."

"You're going in the opposite direction, you have no shoes, it's 2 am and it's raining." He pointed out, very helpfully. I shot him a glare.

"Funnily enough, I had noticed it was raining. Thanks for your astute observation, Leclerc." I spat venomously, the words burning in my throat as I spoke them. He didn't flinch.

"I can't just leave you here, Evie-" He groaned.

"Oh, sure you can! All you have to do is let go of me, get in your car, the pedal on the left means go. Don't bother with the brake." I smiled sweetly. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Evangeline, you are not in your right mind right now. You're drunk, you're cold, and you're tired. I just want to make sure you get home safe." His voice was soft, almost pleading.

I glared at him, my chest tightening at his words. "I am perfectly capable of getting home safely on my own. And anyway, it's not your job to look after me."

He didn't say anything, just kept holding my wrist, his grip steady and unyielding. I wished I could match his strength.

"Please, Evie," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Let me drive you home."

I felt a pang in my heart at the pleading in his voice, but I pushed it aside. I had to be strong. I had to resist. "No," I managed to say, my voice as steady as I could make it. "Let go of me."

He hesitated for a moment, his grip on my wrist tightening almost imperceptibly. "Biche, I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me take you home. You don't have to talk to me, you don't even have to look at me."

I hesitated. The rain trickled down my back. I was so cold, so tired, so sore. But I couldn't give in. I couldn't let him win. His thumb was rubbing soft circles against my wrist, and I felt a strange warmth spread through me despite the cold. His eyes were fixed on mine, pleading.