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'M SORRY." I was rooted to the spot, pointing at the stack of sheets in my hand. "I had to get this for the project and you weren't coming home so Rosalie offered me to get it from your room myself, and I know—"
Evan pocketed his hands. He was leaning against the doorway. "I know why you're here. Rosalie told me that already."
I blinked. I should've known I was escaping way too smoothly. "I'm still sorry—"
He held a finger, and the worst thing about this was how I couldn't assess his face. "Save that apology. Why didn't you call me if you'd encountered trouble?"
I stilled. Well, you see, I never once encountered trouble, but I sure as hell have created plenty of them now. "I tried to." I lied, heels squirming. "It went straight to voicemail."
"Strange." He stared right at me, no humour in his voice. "I was on my phone for the most part of today, and I didn't see any missed calls."
I smiled the most awkward tilt of the lips. "Yeah. My phone's been acting weird lately."
"I already emailed you that." His gaze dropped to what I was holding for dear life, and I clutched it closer. "Was that not enough?"
"As I said, my phone's just not cooperating. The file wouldn't open," I walked near the entrance, inadvertently getting closer to him. Distance was suitable, but he was blocking the damn exit. "But it's fine. I'll get it done now, so—"
"Maybe I could fix your phone." He held out a hand, and I finally latched my eyes to his. There was a glimmer in his gaze, intense and mischievous. "Hand it over."
My erratic beating slowed just a fraction upon seeing the look in his eyes. He wasn't mad. Okay. "It's fine. I've troubled you enough as it is."
He rose an eyebrow. "We met a minute ago, Edwards. I've not nearly had enough of you yet."
Never mind to hoping my heart would've been anything but a stuttering, wild prey. His presence in itself was a safety hazard for the dumbly beating thing in the centre of my chest. It buzzed to the tune of heat his palm emanated when his fingers brushed mine. Soared to lodge my throat the instant my vigilance fell apart, finding us at growing proximity.
Damn him. I tried to squeeze past the left size, but he extended his arms. As I scooted to the right, he caged me with his torso.
I huffed, took three steps back, and looked him in the eye. "Evan."
"Laura." He reciprocated with the same look. "Stop running away."
"I'm not running away," I argued, nearing him. "I need to work on this, and I. . ."
He looked bothered. My words dissolved on their own, and I found myself staring, unable to create distance. "Are you upset?"
