No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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"WAS THE DOOR. . .OPEN?"
The dread that filled my chest like venom was nothing compared to the glare he was passing me, and—God, I needed to focus—because he was here, right in front, and I wanted to be anywhere but with him. Right now, Evan Parker was excluding the warmth of a million suns and a gaze which could cut me into two, and he was so hot and so cold that I did not dare take one step closer.
And he was dressed up. Attired like a model in those classy business ads with his stupid half-tucked shirt and stupid black trousers, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, rings, a silver chain over the expanse of tan skin exposed due to the top three unbuttoned buttons, hair disheveled and messy and so beyond attractive that I didn't know where to look at. Looking anywhere felt illegal. Too appealing. Wrong.
Why couldn't he have been a little normal looking, so I wouldn't lose it every time I glanced at him?
"Yeah," he muttered after several seconds, eyes still displeased. "Who knows how many people broke in before me. Want to find out by checking what all has gone missing so far?"
My head still pounded, and I realized that I wasn't exactly in the state to be bickering with him—no matter how much he would've liked that. He comprehended the situation and walked right towards me, eyes softening. "Hey. You shouldn't stand up if you can't."
And I really couldn't, because the world had started spinning and my head felt like it would split open into two, and I didn't know what to do as my knees started buckling, giving in to the swaying ground.
Evan's arm snaked around my waist. Another grabbed my hand, holding me in place. "Jesus," he whispered, and the urge to look at him overpowered any other. I couldn't, though. My face was pressed to his chest, eyes shut. "This is what you call alright?"
I can't deal with your presence right now, I thought and thought, the screws and bolts twisting and turning in my head in attempts to rationalize, to make sense of this inane situation. His hands were cold where they lay, right above the band of my sweatpants—separated from my burning skin by what now felt like the thinnest layer of cotton.
The fire my body had set itself on ten folded.
"Thank you for bringing me the medicine," I tried to divert my own attention. "But I'll be okay, so you don't need to worry about me. I'm sor—"
His grip tightened. "I don't accept the thanks. Should I carry you to bed?"
I wanted to push him away. Having him this close was a problem far mightier than any other, and I knew it—I knew it incredibly well, yet my heart yearned for the warmth, for the comfort I'd been greeted with the day I fell into his arms for the first time. Letting go was the last thing I wanted to do.
"Hey," he tapped on my shoulder. "Did you fall asleep? Want me to carry you?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I can walk fine by myself!"
