It wasn't just the gross puking and the headaches. Matter of fact, the last and the only time I had gotten drunk was by mistake, and I had ended up taking it commendably well. Headaches were annoying, yes, but my body never decided to throw up. It was with Seb and Liza, of course—and the picture was clear like day: we were sprawled all around her patio in the late summer breeze, and it was her idea in general, to get drunk.

She never said it, but it was one of the early last times we hung out before I moved—and she was just looking for ways to make it special for me. She never said most of the things, but it was all on her face.

The golden memory didn't end there and then. Once we were clearly inebriated and out of our minds, I had hit Sebastian with the baseball I found lying across her garden so hard that he was unconscious for a good minute.

All these memories were gold and silver, dipped in honey—only until I got involved. Adding me to the picture was like rubbing salt to an open wound, and it stung.

It stung mercilessly, and made me want to erase every thought that could fill my brain until I could no longer breathe. In a way, it was poison clogging up my veins—and I could only last so long before falling apart in a ghastly form.

And when partying was mentioned on the table during lunch, I declined before things could go further. Almost everybody's eyes shot up, curiosity evident unanimously. Only Evan's eyes stayed exactly where they were, on his phone screen. He didn't move a millimeter.

Xavier saw his expressions, which were both a mixture of disgust and boredom. "You're coming and have no excuse, Evan."

He continued to look pissed, but didn't utter a word. When I met his eye, he just sighed. Xavier motioned towards me, before grabbing fries from Stella's plate. At this point, it was just for annoying her—I could get paid and still wouldn't consume something that tasted like that.

"And what about you, Laura?"

"I'm not interested, sorry," I gave him a look, but he just smiled before messing his hair all over. "Can't stand alcohol?"

"That's not the case."

"Don't force her," Evan said sharply, before dropping his gaze to the floor. "If you do want to come, Edwards, I'll be there."

I rolled my eyes. That is all I had been wanting to hear, and more. How did that help in any way? "That's really reassuring, but I would rather stay home and do other things."

He could see through my sarcasm right away, no matter how dry it seemed to get at times. He proceeded to give me a side-eye, and then glare. "I'm not being funny—I dislike them as well, we could keep each other entertained. Besides, what are the things you have to do?"

Entertained? In what sense, exactly?

Don't force her, he had said. I scoffed. "Study, idiot. I cannot study in a room full of people and loud music."

He laughed, and then smiled at me. "Exams don't start until next month. Live a little, Laura," he winked, and that was, indeed, all I needed.

I needed someone to repeat my mother's catch phrase in school as well.

▂

When I was on my way to the English class, I saw Evan talking to Ciara. His hands were on a locker, and Ciara was saying something which was making both of them laugh. It was the worst for me to stare, but tempting enough for the sole reason that Evan was a bit. . .overdressed for school. Maybe it was just my eyes, or the simple fact that everything looked so good on him that it seemed like he had dropped out of a photoshoot—but it was the way he would play with the chain around his neck, or just mess with his hair every so often that I couldn't pry my eyes off of him.

It was unfair how he could effortlessly pull off just about anything. The fit would've been over the top for someone who went to school, but with him in front, it just looked like the rest of us were simply underdressed. It was in the way he carried himself, and the air around him.

It was something I couldn't help but admire.

And it really was too bad that he saw me doing exactly that—admiring.

I do that, and have the audacity to say that I don't make things awkward, I thought, and then cursed. His gaze flicked up to me, and when I expected coyness, I was just met with a genuine heart-wrenching smile. He didn't hesitate to wave at all, before bidding adieu to Ciara and walking straight up to me.

"Hey," he studied my face for a second, but I was looking deeply into my notebook, as if I weren't staring at him a while ago. "Why are you here? Isn't it English?"

Nothing could truly save me from the embarrassment and the heated cheeks. "Yeah, it is," I paused, and then sighed. "Sorry—I promise I wasn't lurking around, or something."

He laughed. "I didn't even notice, so you can chill," he extended a hand for me to walk first, and then continued speaking with an undertone. "On the other hand, I do have fans lurking around quite a bit, so I might've grown accustomed."

"I'm not a fan," I rolled my eyes. "I am here to keep you grounded."

The more he laughed around me, the more it struck as a timeless melody—like a scene of cherry blossoms and love letters spun up in a harmony. "I'd lie and say you're doing amazing."

"Shut up," I gave him a glare, nails digging harshly into my binder. For a reason unknown, I felt both at peace and on the edge with him—and as we continued to walk, I had realized how terribly late we were.

He seemed to be too calm about it.

"Aren't we late, Evan?"

He shook his head, and then sighed. "We are very late."

"Then why are we still walking at such alarming speed?"

"Because the teacher hates me already," he said, eyes drilling into mine. "Do you really want to go to class now? We're fifteen minutes late."

"And? Where else would I go?"

He gave me a small smile, eyes glistening in amusement. "I don't know, maybe to a really cool diner with me?"

I laughed, eyes lined up in confusion. "Are you serious? During school hours, you expect us to—"

"Hey," he pressed a finger to his lips, eyes mischievous. "Have a little faith in me, Edwards—it will only help me stay grounded."

There wasn't a chance in the universe to decline his offer—ones which came with starry eyes and reckless smiles. And I could just grin, in hopes that putting my trust in him didn't lead to an absolute catastrophe.

▂

The car ride made me antsy and restless. Questions resurfaced my brain at the speed of light—deeming that this was unnecessary, and I probably should've made an excuse and accepted the anger of our teacher. If I got detention anytime soon, and for a reason like this, my father wasn't going to happy in the slightest.

"Laura," he called my name out, eyes looming over mine. There was something about him which felt off-limits—as if he were playing pretend, of some sort, and getting to truly know him could be something I would never achieve. I wondered numerous times why I wanted to get to know him, still. Why was I sitting in his car again?

"We're not going to get detention. I promise."

I just breathed, and then clasped my hands together. "Where are you taking me?"

"Right there," he bopped his head to my side, and my eyes immediately fell onto the huge board which was adorned with the name of the place: Louisa's Diner. It was compact—from the outside at least—and was decked up with lights meant to be on a Christmas tree.

I was fascinated, to say the least, and Evan could tell from the way my lips twitched upwards. He rushed to open the door for me—something he only did to piss me off, I could clearly tell—and proceeded to tell me how chivalry wasn't dead.

Annoying me might've become one of his pastimes.

"Come on," he tugged on my sleeve, making me stumble upon my steps at the entrance. As the gate flew open, a series of vintage themed settees, wall-hangings and colors overwhelmed my sight. The view was so alarmingly pleasing, that my whole attention had been robbed off of the conversation Evan and a woman at the counter were sharing.

And when I decided to force my eyes on them, I couldn't understand a thing.

"¿Quién es esta bella dama contigo, Evan? Nunca la he visto antes."

He passed her a small grin, hands on the counter. "Ella es una amiga."

The urge to pull out my phone and translate every little syllable was scary, and it only tripled when the lady looked at me with a kind smile. They were talking about me? "¿En serio? ¡Una chica tan bonita no debería ser solo una amiga, cariño!"

Evan's gaze dropped on me like a thunderstorms and lightening, but didn't stay for a second before he rushed a reply to her. "¡Ella es solo una amiga, Maria!"

I furrowed my eyebrows when the lady laughed, eyes crinkling at the both of us. Despite not knowing her and a single word she spoke, she radiated warmth and kindness of a summer breeze—almost as though she was family.

With the way he spoke, I wouldn't have been surprised if she were his.

"Okay, okay," she spoke in a thick accent, eyes falling to me and lips tugging in a smile. "There you go—a table for this beautiful lady and you."

Evan had motioned for me to walk after I had passed her a genuine smile. As he walked me to our table draped with a linen cloth and a small succulent, my eyes had enlarged in shock. The ambience once I properly stepped foot inside of the diner was beyond astonishing—rustic and mellow, aged like fine wine—something straight out of a movie.

Evan had fallen bizarrely silent, flipping through the menu when I stared at him. "Hey, what was she saying back there?"

His eyes held genuine surprise for a second. "Nothing of great importance," closing the menu half-way, he passed it to me. "What would you like to have?"

I gave him a little glare at the not-so-subtle topic change. "An answer, for starters."

"Es vergonzoso," he muttered in the softest spur of words, eyes darting to the cutlery on his left and fingers playing with the rings. It was a habit, I observed—probably when he was nervous. "This place is known for waffles, by the way."

I gave up for the sole reason that it bothered him to a good-enough extent. "Love waffles—especially the chocolate ones."

"I prefer pancakes," he drew out a breath, eyes almost challenging. "They're better."

I gasped, and then rolled my eyes. "Never mind this friendship, then."

His lips twitched upwards in a smirk, and I was left focusing on how his eyes glowed when he grinned. "Really—if it's that shallow, that is."

This boy did nothing to redeem himself, and something about the constant back-and-forth was amusing to the moon, making it just concerning. I had managed to glare before he had ordered waffles and sandwiches for us.

It was a blessing to get a break from school's horrendous meals, and my stomach was relatively empty. The ruckus increased since we got there, sounds of the coffee machine and the light instrumentals floating above all the chatter like finest mulberry paper.

When he got back, he seemed fairly annoyed. I just laughed at his face, waiting with folded hands the story behind his scowl-laden lips. "That's my aunt," he pointed in the lady's direction who was previously speaking to me, and my gut feeling was indeed, true. She was his family. "And she is driving me insane."

"How exactly? She seems like a sweetheart."

"She may be, but she is also devil reincarnate—and now that she knows you, she isn't going to stop asking questions."

I tucked a strand of my hair, embarrassment creeping up my neck. Questions, about what? "That's. . . fine, I guess."

"It's not about you," he huffed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "It'll be a pain for me."

It seemed to me that our conversations were mostly silly quarrels, eye rolls, and death glares—since I was unironically passing him another one of those. "Sounds like a you problem, then. And for someone who was pleading me to see this diner, you really aren't the polite type."

"I think it comes naturally with the right company—"

"Evan," someone had interjected us before I could formulate a reply, and her stare was freezing. It was the way she carried herself, too, and maybe it was in the blood after all—she greeted him with stark coldness of the winter season, and gave me a smile worthy of spring.

"That is not how you talk to a young lady," she put the food on the table, dropping a kind smile my way. "What's your name, cariño?"

"Laura," I retorted with an equally lit-up smile, and her gaze was heart-warming. She dropped the waffles to my side, and then smiled at me like she had known me for years. "Such a pretty name, Laura. And if this boy disturbs you any further, do let me know."

Evan looked exasperatedly at me, but ended up grinning. "Way to go, Maria—gang up on me, now."

The Aunt, Maria, just winked at me. And then left.

I decided to love her in that instant.

After a good meal later, it was a hard pill to swallow that the time spent at Louisa's Diner with Evan was pretty fucking amazing—to say the least. Despite the occasional snarky remarks and the constant back-and-forth, I never for once felt out of place. It might've been another one of those things about Evan Parker, even. Because he pulled me in effortlessly, and there was always something absolutely riveting about the contrasting shades he seemed to carry on his shoulders.

No matter how much I found him around, there was something which felt incomplete; and it was scary how I wanted to find out exactly what.

I had to wait for him outside as he told a couple things to his aunt, who had bid me the kindest farewell. Next period started in ten, and my anxiety which had dissipated due to the sight of good food started to thread itself back into my nervous system, spreading like poison. He had promised that we wouldn't get caught—but the paranoia in my head had other plans.

And whilst I took stagnant steps on the sidewalk as my brain raced a thousand miles per hour, I saw someone I wasn't expecting to see at all.

Jayden stood waving at me, already reducing my chances of ignoring him to none—a bag slinged on his shoulder. I didn't know what the deal with him and Evan was, but I didn't want them to have an encounter with me as a witness. He didn't try to approach me, thankfully, because he was surrounded by two other guys.

"Hey," Evan had waved a hand in front of my eyes, and I had totally forgotten how he had been trying to speak to me for the past couple seconds. "Ready to go?"

I nodded, and then glanced at Jayden for a split-second. He had smiled in that duration—a smile so unmistakably unique that it transported me back to the time when I was a little kid. My steps faltered as I tried to get in the car, and Evan looked at me in absolute bewilderment—all while following where my gaze went. Jayden was gone, however, and the only thing which remained was the ragged memory at the back of my head, and the picture of a sunny sky clear as day.

i think it's clear that their love language is roasting each other

i hope you are doing well! school started again and my schedule is going to get annoying again, so i apologize for upcoming inconsistency in updates and all that. let me know what you think, and thank you so much for reading. you're golden