Novels by Moreof_biits

Evan’s POV;The drive back was quiet at first, the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward, just heavy with everything amazing that had happened during the day. The sunset spilled through the windshield in streaks of gold and pink, blurring over the edges of Blake’s profile.My hair was still damp from sweat, my legs still half-dead, but I didn’t care. I was leaning against the window, half-smiling to myself, when I heard his voice.“You hungry?”I turned my head lazily. “I could eat… but that would mean moving, which I currently can’t.”He glanced at me, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You can move enough to eat cookies.”That got my attention. “Cookies?”His smile deepened slightly, eyes on the road. “Yeah. I was thinking of baking some tonight. You should come over. I’ll make you dinner first, something simple and then we can bake.”I blinked. “Damn… you cook?”“Occasionally.”“Wow. You hike, you carry me down a mountain, you bake, you cook…” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’r

Evan's POV;During the descent down the trail, I was pretty sure my legs had been replaced with wet noodles. Every step felt like my thighs were screaming at me, and the rocks underfoot weren’t helping either. The backpack, once my proud survival kit, now felt like a personal vendetta against my spine.I stopped, pressing my palms into my thighs as I leaned forward. “Blake,” I wheezed dramatically, “I can’t feel my legs. I think they divorced me.”He slowed, glancing over his shoulder with that maddeningly calm expression, like he’d just stepped out of a yoga retreat instead of hiking down a mountain. His shirt clung to him with the faintest sheen of sweat, and his hair was pushed back messily from the climb. He looked annoyingly composed.“You’re fine,” he said with a small smile, offering his hand. “It’s not that much farther.”“Not that much farther?!” I gasped, straightening slowly. “You said that twenty minutes ago. Do you realize how many times you’ve said that? At this point

Evan's POV;The trail started off deceptively easy… wide gravel path, sun filtering through the trees, cool breeze ruffled my hair and birds chirping like we’d wandered into some enchanted Disney forest.I could almost pretend this was going to be easy.Almost.My thighs began protesting ten minutes in.“Okay,” I said, tugging on the straps of the small backpack. “Be honest with me, Blake. How far do we actually have to go before I achieve enlightenment or whatever people hike for?”Blake, walking a step ahead, turned his head with a faint smile, calm as ever, like his lungs weren’t burning at all. “We just started.”I groaned and dragged a hand down my face. “Wrong answer.”That earned me a chuckle. He adjusted his pack higher on his shoulders and slowed his pace, just a little, like he thought I wouldn’t notice.“You can set the speed,” he said. “I don’t mind.”“Oh, so you’re just going to stroll behind me while I wheeze my way up a mountain? Cute.”“Considerate and protective,” he

Evan's POV;The second the words Breakneck Ridge left Blake’s mouth, I sat up straighter in the passenger seat like he’d just told me we were headed to a crime scene. “I’m sorry, what?”The engine hummed, sunlight flickering through the windshield, Blake’s profile lit up in soft gold as his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a laugh.“That’s the name of the trail.”I turned in my seat to stare at him, clutching my neon backpack like a life vest. “That doesn’t sound like a trail, that sounds like my obituary. You’re seriously taking me somewhere that sounds like the setting of my death certificate?”This time, he did laugh. A warm, easy laugh that filled the car. “It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. People hike there all the time.”“Yeah, well people jump out of planes too. Doesn’t mean I should.” I waved a hand, wide-eyed. “That place is for people with great health insurance and you know it.”I sighed. “Breaking my neck on a hike is going to be a painful death, Blake.”His lips

Evan’s POV;The second my apartment door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against it and just… grinned, I was vibrating with leftover joy like my body couldn’t figure out what to do with it. I probably looked insane; smiling alone in my dimly lit living room, shoes still on, silk shirt hanging open at the collar, but I didn’t care.I had just been on a date with Blake Thatcher and it was perfect. It hadn’t been stiff or awkward or filled with polite silences. He laughed at my dumb vending machine vendetta and the cab ride was even better. And that moment at my door where his hand brushed my hair and his eyes lingered yeah…..I was a goner.I dropped my keys on the counter and started towards my couch.My phone buzzed, I nearly dropped it in my rush to check. A text.Blake: I enjoyed tonight. Thank you for coming with me.I sank onto the couch, kicking my shoes off like they’d wronged me, and typed back immediately:Me: I had the best time. Seriously. I’m still smiling like an idiot

Evan’s POV;By the time Saturday rolled around, I had stared into my closet for so long I started to believe the shirts were judging me.Hailey had clients today as a MUA diva that she is, so she couldn’t help me pick my fit.“Just pick one, Evan,” I muttered to myself. “You’re not going on a runway. It’s just dinner with your… boyf… well..”I settled on a silk black button-down because black is slimming and complimentary, and I needed both tonight.Blake texted me around six:Still good for tonight? No pressure.That “no pressure” part had sent me spiraling. Like… why did it sound like he knew pressure was my middle name?. I typed back so fast I nearly dropped my phone.Yeah. Absolutely. Where are we meeting?A second later: Il Divo. Midtown. 7:30.We’ve been texting more recently and I was beginning to experience a different side of him. Of course he’d picked a restaurant with a name that sounded like an opera singer. I checked it out online and damn… it was fancy, but intimate. Ca

Julian’s POV:The week before the hockey match was a slow blend of ice, stress, and coffee. The figure skating team had ramped up practice, double sessions, choreography polish and my psych minor decided that now was a great time to give me three essays and a reading list the size of a fucking dictionary.I mostly spent my mornings on the ice and running to my next class. My evenings were spent trying to write a paper on the understanding of grief and its effects on one’s mind. I knew it was due but I still hadn’t gotten through the first page.That says a lot for someone who would know a lot about grief.Gabrielle apologized for the cafeteria incident the very next day…. I probably shouldn’t have stormed off like that.I’m a bit of a drama queen, aren’t I? I told her it was fine though… I genuinely just wanted to pretend it never happened so I can move on with my life.Back to my misery, I have to get this paper done and the library picked today to be full. Of course it did.Ever

Julian’s POV;The cafeteria went quiet.Not completely though, there was still the dull roar of chatter, forks clinking, and someone’s phone blasting the audio from a funny video from two tables away, but around our table, everything froze.Both of the new hockey idiots blinked at me like I’d just insulted their ancestors.Then, of course, Asher started laughing.It wasn’t a small laugh either. It was a full obnoxious laugh that shook his shoulders and made his stupid brown hair flop over his forehead. “You can’t just…….” he wheezed between laughs, “you can’t just open with that!”“I can when you invade my table,” I said with indifference.One of the boys had light brown hair and his eyes looked glossy, okay maybe too glossy. I don’t even want to know why.His grin was instant and easy, confidence radiating off him like cologne. He leaned forward, hand outstretched.“Name’s Ace,” he said. “Asher’s right-hand man.”I stared at his hand like it was contagious.The guy sitting beside me

Julian's POV;The central cafeteria was as loud as ever, there was a group of freshmen shrieking over social media videos like they’d just seen a goat do a backflip and the air smelled like greasy burgers, burnt coffee, and the tang of leftover garlic from someone’s late-night noodles. It was busy and exactly the kind of place I liked when I wanted to disappear. Now all that was remaining was an empty table, my bacon sandwich, and an hour of my alone time. That was it.But the universe hated me.I thought I’d beaten the odds today. Tray in hand, I found an empty table in the corner, the holy grail: out of the way, no easy angles for people to slide in from. I set my tray down carefully, the bacon sandwich looking like salvation, and I sat.Then Gabrielle happened.She dropped her backpack on the floor before plopping down opposite me while slamming her notepad on the table with a huff. “You are the worst,” she said immediately, as if we were continuing a conversation we’d never st

Julian’s POV:The next morning, the rink smelled faintly of damp ice and cleaning chemicals. Practice started at eight sharp, and Coach Harris was already barking at us to warm up before I’d even finished lacing my boots.Our schedule was brutal today, six hours to drill the new routine we’d perform against Northeastern. It wasn’t the hardest choreography I’d ever done, not by a long shot.The transitions were clean, the lifts of the arms felt natural, and the footwork flowed easily under my blades. For me, anyway.The others? Not so much. Mind you, I’m being extremely humble.Half an hour in, two of the guys still weren’t hitting the timing on the turns, and one of the girls kept losing balance in the synchronized sequence. I caught Coach Harris pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering something about “seeing high school kids doing better.”“Julian,” he called, voice sharp. “Help Parker with his camel spin. We have to get this right before the match, people!”I sighed but skate

Julian's POV:Lunch wasn’t supposed to be a social activity.At least, not for me.I found a quiet corner in the central dining hall and rushed towards it with my tray that held a bowl of noodles, a sandwich, and an apple I wasn’t sure I’d actually eat. Thankfully, the dining hall was half empty. Just the hum of other students at their own tables, chatter mixing with the clatter of trays. The kind of noise I could easily tune out.Halfway through eating my sandwich, a familiar voice rang across the table.“Wow, you really eat like a normal person. I don’t know why I thought figure skaters only ate salad and drank coffee.”I froze mid bite, a piece of lettuce hanging from my mouth. Then I looked up and of course, Gabrielle Tanaka was sitting and sliding her tray down across from me, grinning like we were best friends.I chewed and swallowed quickly before scowling. “What are you doing?”“Sitting,” she said simply, stabbing her fork into her butter chicken like she’d had been waiting

Julian's POV; My alarm dragged me out of sleep at seven sharp. I rolled out of bed without thinking, feet hitting the cold floor, mind already sour at the thought of the day. My apartment was small, too close to the university and neat because I couldn’t stand clutter.Everything was where it should be: my skates by the door, textbooks stacked on the desk, a half-empty mug from last night’s tea on the counter.Okay, Maybe too neat. I made a quick breakfast, toast and eggs, nothing fancy. Coffee too, though I didn’t linger over it. Caffeine was fuel, not an experience.I pulled on jeans and a sweater and slung my backpack over my shoulder. Class first, then practice. That was my routine.Campus was buzzing like usual, groups of students clustered together, some rushing, some lounging. I kept to myself. My headphones were on but not playing anything, just giving people a reason to not talk to me.I walked straight to my classes, which were usually…..er….fine. They were boring, but