He waited, perhaps how the moon waited for the sun.
And I chose to ask more of it-of the ceaseless hope we held in our palms. "Give me tonight, please."
"You've got tonight." It was an effortless sentence. A string of words spelling assurance, settl...
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I HAD MANAGED TO SNEAK IN TWO MORE DRINKS before Evan grabbed my hand and pushed me out of the kitchen. The party felt beyond unwelcoming, and my heels could be the death of me. He threw excuses at people who inquired about our whereabouts—probably making them wonder to no end. This was no good at all, and when we were finally outside, I realized how incredibly worse the situation had gotten. It was freezing cold.
"Are you okay?"
Apparently, I was not the only one worried about me becoming an icicle. His alarmed eyes went over my body, and a grin spread across his lips. "How are you not freezing?"
"I kind of am," I looked away in embarrassment. "I think I'll head home, to be honest."
His eyes dimmed for a second, before he shook his head and swiftly glided the blazer from his arm to mine. My eyes had widened at his sudden movements, but he shunned my protests with a glare. "Nobody wants you having hypothermia. Take this."
"Won't you be cold, now that we're outside?"
He gave me another classic look. I sighed, smoothening the clothing and draping it over my shoulder, warmth immediately latching onto my skin. The familiar scent made me smile, and he saw.
He stood there looking at me.
"This is warm," I pointed out, eyes drawn to the sleeves. "Thank you!"
He had just laughed. While I stumbled on my steps, my incapability of walking visible as clear as day, he was just staring in confusion—much like he always did. "Are you okay, Edwards?"
I didn't have any sort of restraint whatsoever, so getting lost in his eyes seemed to be an easy feat. "I'm kind of not being able to walk."
"I don't think I can be of much help to that," he smiled. "Unless you want me to carry you."
"Absolutely not, thanks."
He gave me a small smirk. "You know, drunk you is kinder than sober you."
"Sober me is just as fine," I muttered in anger. "Maybe more realistic."
Amusement was prevalent on his face as he opened the door for me, eyes never leaving mine. I had no sense of time, because it seemed much more like a social construct than ever when alcohol entered my system—and going off with him was probably not the wisest decision. Where were we headed again? I didn't remember telling Stella I was leaving. This was no good.
"Hey," I waved a hand in front of him while he started the engine, "where are we going?"
"I am supposed to make it up to you, am I not?" he began, eyes playful and a grin on his mouth. "You'll see."
I slapped his arm. "Shut up and take me home."
"That's so boring."
"I'm tired, and that seems fun," I retorted with, eyes drilling holes into his skull. Moonlight only fell on one side of his face, and even with the dimly lit surroundings I could easily make out the scar below his ear. "Take me home, Parker."
