Page 31 of Spearcrest Knight

“Mm,” he walks up to me and stands the way he always does: right in front of me, too close for comfort. My heart starts beating faster. “Not today, Sutton. We need to talk.”

“Then make it quick,” I say, stifling back my annoyance. “I need to go.”

“Whatever plans you have, you’re going to have to cancel,” he says, tilting his head and speaking with disturbing gentleness. “I’m not joking around, Sutton. I wanna talk.”

This does not bode well. A sinking feeling pits through my guts. I glance up into Evan’s eyes, gauging him. He’s not going to budge on this. I’m going to have to weigh my options quickly.

If I go to work at the risk of pissing him off, he might renege on our deal altogether and break our tenuous alliance. If I cancel on work and keep him sweet, I risk letting down Freddy but might salvage my deal with Evan. Christmas is coming up, and there’ll be a lot of shifts I can pick up over the holidays, lots of money to tuck away into my university jar.

I’m going to have to take a loss now in exchange for a victory down the line.

“Fine,” I say, trying to keep the resentment out of my voice. “Go on inside, I need to make a call.”

He doesn’t budge, and I add with a sigh. “I’m not going to run away, Evan. I’ll be inside in a second.”

He watches me, his gaze as physical as a caress as it moves slowly over my face. Heat rises in my cheeks; I’m almost disturbed by the intensity of his gaze. He reaches for me and I flinch. His fingers brush my jaw and chin in a feather-light touch, his skin surprisingly warm.

“Don’t be too long,” he says, gentle and threatening all at once.

I swallow and glare at him. “You're the one slowing me down.”

His fingers brush up my jaw and over my hair. He takes a strand and yanks. Then he grins, steps aside and saunters off into his house. I watch him go inside, and then still make sure to stand far enough from the house that Evan couldn’t hear me even if he stood right behind the door, which he probably is.

Freddy answers the phone after a few rings. Anxiety strangles me when I tell him I can't come today, but to my surprise, he doesn’t even question me.

“Alright Sophie, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Can you still make Thursday?”

“I hope so,” I say quickly. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can. I’m so sorry, Freddy.”

He tells me not to apologise and that he’ll see me soon. Before he hangs up, he says, “Take care, Sophie. We’ll miss you here today!”

When I hang up, my heart is still beating fast, but not so much from fear this time. I press my cold hands against my cheeks, which are red-hot. No chance am I going inside the house with a blush.

God knows what Evan would make of that.

I push the door open and step slowly inside. Evan’s house never fails to fill me with awe: opulent décor, pale marble, light pouring in from the windows in abundance.

The house feels modern and new, yet it’s full of antique statues, paintings and chandeliers. It has a sort of timeless aristocratic elegance that is in stark contrast to Evan’s all-American youthfulness.

Noises lead me into the kitchen. There, Evan is breaking frozen bananas into pieces and dropping them into a blender. He’s still in his shorts and baggy sweatshirt, and I can’t help but notice his legs, the tan skin taught with muscles.

I’m almost irrationally annoyed by the way he wears shorts even in the dead of winter. Everything else about him becomes annoying too, by association. The way his sandy hair, pale and buttery-soft, has grown a little too long, curling around his ears and against the nape of his neck. The pale eyelashes that frame his too-blue eyes, the curl of his grin, his unnaturally white teeth.

Evan’s always been beautiful, but now his handsomeness is just another aspect of what makes him so hateful.

He drops two scoops of protein powder into the blender and pours in almond milk. His eyes flick to me while he blends, and he dances a little as if the noise is music to his ears. I perch myself on one of the kitchen stools, watching him with annoyance.

“Banana milkshake?” he asks once he’s finished.

“I’m alright. Just say what you need to say.”

He pours his milkshake into a tall glass and sighs. “All business as always, huh?”

“Unlike you, I value my time too much to waste it.”

He pauses and glances at the glass in his hand. “This isn’t a waste of time. Protein is important, you know. It’s the building block of muscles.”

“Wow, so at least you listened in science class.”

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