Fault Line

Evie

Chaos and I have an understanding.

I create it. It follows me. Sometimes we both survive.
Most people notice that and wisely walk the other direction.

Then there's Trevor Hale.

Bristolwood's golden pitcher. Campus celebrity. Professional collector of female bad decisions.

Trevor Hale should be the last person I want anything to do with.

Instead, he's the only person who's ever looked at me like he sees the chaos and wants more.

What starts between us isn't soft. It's tension. A constant pull between wanting to run and wanting to push harder just to see who breaks first.

And Trevor?

He never breaks alone.

Trevor

I used to be that guy. The guy that could charm beds open and still have a friend after, as if sex weren't complicated.

Then I realized how much I like control. It didn't take long for people to start calling me reformed. Really, I was just tired of it being meaningless.

And nothing carried meaning anymore.

Then there's Evie.

Sharp-tongued. Fun. Impossible to ignore.

She pushes every boundary I have just to watch me lose composure.

The problem is, she doesn't understand what she's asking for.

And the worst part?

Maybe she does.