Soar With Me (✔️)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

Evelyn

I swipe my hand down the front of my dress one last time to get rid of any wrinkles. I vaguely adjust the thin shoulder straps holding the dress on my body. The neckline exposes my bony collarbone and dips a few centimeters further into my cleavage.

My eyes drift to the sides of my figure, studying as the silky material hugs my curves, accentuating them from my hips down.

Sweeping one last glance at my makeup I spritz some perfume and then pack my black hand purse for the evening ahead.

Just as I slip on my heels, my phone buzzes with a notification.

Warren: I'm leaving my office to pick you up.

After a fierce battle with my feelings, I gave Warren my number. But only because the occasion called for it.

Grasping my car keys I amble to the door.

Miles curled up on my bed a few minutes ago. I bet he'll be staying there till I come back.

I drive in my Ashton Martin to my office while trembling in a bundle of nerves. I don't know why I'm nervous. Maybe it's the extravagant function, or perhaps the thought of spending the night with Warren. The guy who's my ex-something, but lately, he has seemed to enter friend territory.

I mean, we're not really friends, but the animosity between us from weeks ago is subduing with time and I don't know what to do about that.

What do you do when the guy you love and used to be your best friend, but who also broke your heart, returns? What do you do when he asks for a second chance? What do you do when he's nice to you and wants to help you?

I arrive at my office and stroll towards the door.

A breeze of warm summer air whistles past me, tousling my curls to the front and whipping my ponytail to the side a little. Lifting my hand I adjust my hair in the glass window and check my makeup for the last time.

This is my first charity event and it's with Warren out of all the people in the world. The very guy I swore to steer clear of. The irony isn't lost on me.

Under the bewitching night sky, a creepy feeling embraces me. Just like the night from weeks ago. As if someone is watching me.

I sweep my gaze across the street trying to find the culprit but no one catches my eye. That worries me even more.

I rub my arms to calm the numbing trail of sensations that are running up and down my skin. My blood turns thick and warms as it accumulates in my belly. A weight the size of a dumbbell pulls my heart down as anxiety crawls up my backbone like a vine climbing a tree.

Suddenly headlights approach me and the car stops a few feet away from me. A man dressed in a suit opens the door.

Warren steps out elegantly and knocks my breath out of my lungs.

I stare at him. He's clad in a fine all-black suit with no tie. The top two buttons on his dress shirt are open, exposing his elegant collarbone and slender neck to admiration.

I've seen so many men in formal wear in my line of work, but I'm fucking sure no one can pull it off like Warren Archer can. He looks beyond striking and hot in it.

Taking long steps, he maneuvers his way to me like a predator does toward its prey. His vivid green eyes assess me from top to bottom leaving a trail of sparks igniting in their wake.

I try to read his expression, but his face is void of any hints.

Stopping a few inches away from me, he looks me straight in the eye and just stares.