♡AN ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE♡
Attending the same college is the only thing Sebastian Hutches and Tara Van Doren have in common.
To Sebastian, Tara is a rich, spoiled girl, obsessed with her looks and status.
To Tara, Sebastian is a rude, arrogant...
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I open my eyes and blink, failing to discern anything. Judging by the pitch-black darkness in my room, it must be close to dawn.
Extending my hand, I run my palm over the nightstand. My phone should be there, but it isn't, and I throw the comforter aside with a sigh.
I couldn't care less about the cell. I only need it to see the time because Bast isn't in bed next to me.
It's become a common occurrence. Helplessness floods me each time my hand touches the cold sheets on his side of the bed, but I have no right to pry. I don't even know what we are to each other. That I'm sure I'm the only one should be enough. Most of the time, it is.
Flicking the light switch on, I rise to my feet and pad to the closet to grab the long cardigan that will cover me enough not to want the earth to swallow me if I run into someone on my way to the roof, wearing my silk nightie that barely reaches my thighs.
I wrap the warm garment around myself and head out of the apartment. A few minutes later, I step out of the elevator, shivering when a cold blast hits my face and bare legs.
A lone figure is leaning against the parapet, and my steps falter. If I approach him, I'll be intruding, but how can I leave him alone?
My feet in fluffy slippers feel laden as I walk up to Bast. When he hears my footsteps, he flings a glance my way and straightens, running his fingers through his hair.
“What are you doing up?” he asks, his tone cautious.
“I woke up, and you weren't there,” I say. “You couldn’t sleep again.”
The corners of Bast’s mouth twitch. “Smart, fucking gorgeous, and perceptive.”
“You’re an ass, Basti.”
“So I’ve been told. Come here.”
He beckons me with his hand, and I skirt the stone block serving as a bench and come to stand by his side.
Arms that held me a few hours ago snake around my waist. He steps behind me so we’re both facing the buildings where only a few windows are lit.
“Why do you think they’re up?” Bast murmurs. His chin leans against my temple, and he nods toward the high rises.
“Insomnia?”
He hums in agreement. “That’s likely. Or maybe they were making love and got hungry. They went to the kitchen to grab a bite. There’s wine.” He kisses the top of my head. “And low music. And they slow dance without giving a fuck they both need to be in the office at nine p.m.”
“I like that version of events much better,” I whisper, skimming my fingertips over his wrist.
He presses me to him tighter and moves a palm up my ribcage. It rests on my cardigan-covered breast, and Bast wags his brows when I give him a questioning look.
