It’s Not Over

Evelyn

I clenched my teeth at the sound of his voice, not because I loathed it, but because of the unsettling effect it had on me, pulling every fiber of my being toward him. My hands balled into fists at my sides before I summoned the courage to turn and face him. A sharp intake of breath almost escaped me as our eyes met once more—those piercing green eyes of his never failed to captivate me.

You have got this, Evelyn. You can do it.

"Well, Maybe I was leaving because I simply didn't want to look at your fucking face," I shot back, a hint of venom lacing my words. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, as though he doubted my sincerity. In truth, he probably did.

I so badly wished he couldn’t read me so easily.

"I don't think you hate seeing my face," he said, setting the beer bottle down on the counter with a soft clink. The kitchen was far from silent—the wind outside whispered through the open window, tousling his already unruly hair and adding to his ethereal allure.

It was such a fu