Page 62 of Spearcrest Knight

I stare at him for a moment, a weird sensation squeezing my heart. It’s not really affection, but something else, a sort of sadness—almost pity. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Evan: he’s as rich as it’s possible to be, privileged beyond belief. He will never worry about work or money.

And yet…

Padding across the soft blue rug, I kneel by Evan and poke his arm. There’s no response. From up close, it’s shocking how handsome he is, and I allow myself the indulgence of looking at him properly.

He was very pretty in Year 9 when I met him, but since then he’s grown more handsome—a sort of rugged, American handsomeness. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, straight nose. His eyelashes are long and thick, just like his ridiculous hair. In sleep, he looks like a fairytale prince.

Of course, he’s closer to the wolf than the prince—but you couldn’t tell by looking at him.

I flick his cheek. His eyes snap open and he starts when he sees me.

“Sophie!”

My name slips from his lips like he didn’t even mean to say it. He probably didn’t. After all, he’s not called me by name for years. He sits up and wipes his face, scrunching up his handsome features with one hand.

“I fell asleep,” he explains uselessly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

He laughs. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Now you’re telling me something I didn’t know,” I retort. “It’s only eight o’clock. Do you always go to sleep this early?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. “I was waiting for the guys to come online so we could game, but I fell asleep waiting.” He checks his phone and grimaces. “Zach is probably too busy obsessing over Theodora and I bet Sev is somewhere plotting some sort of plan to defeat his new arch-enemy, the fiancée.” He tosses his phone aside with a sigh. “Fucking sell-outs.”

I don’t see why he’s disclosing this stuff to me, but I have no interest in the complicated love lives of the Young Kings.

“Well…” I say, standing, “have you eaten?”

He points at the plate. “I made a sandwich.”

“That’s not a meal, though, is it? I thought you were meant to be all about health and fitness.”

“I am,” he says with a pout. “But I’m not great at cooking, and there’s nothing much in the fridge.”

I frown. “How do you normally feed yourself over the holidays?”

He shrugs. “My parents send me money, I usually order take-outs or make sandwiches.”

“Well,” I take a deep sigh and hope I’m not making a terrible mistake. “I’m going to need to eat, so… do you want to eat with me?”

He immediately sits up, and his eyes go three shades bluer like they’ve been lit up from the inside. “Yes! I’ll order anything you like.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m going to cook.”

“With what?”

“With ingredients.”

“But I don’t have any of those.”

“Right, that’s why I’m going to the shop.”

“Like… a grocery store?”

I roll my eyes. “Iknowyou’re not too rich to know what a supermarket is, Evan.”

He raises both hands. “No, no, I just don't go often. This is brilliant.” He leaps to his feet, almost headbutting me in his haste. “I’ll drive us. Let’s go shopping.”

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