Page 45 of His Dark Cravings

Lila stands in the hallway, a grin plastered on her face. She’s dressed in a pair of high-waisted black jeans that hug her hips, a cropped red shirt, and ankle boots. A leather jacket is slung carelessly over her shoulder, and gold hoop earrings cling to her lobes. She looks like she just stepped out of a magazine, effortless and put-together, while I can barely straighten out my nightgown.

“Morning, sunshine,” she says, her voice chipper, almost manic. “You’ve got 10 minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m leaving without you.”

I blink, my brain struggling to catch up. “What... what time is it?”

“Late enough that we’re missing breakfast.” She steps past me, uninvited, and plops onto the edge of my bed, her eyes roving over the disarray of my room. “Come on, Evie. It’s boring eating in the kitchen every day. Scenic change of pace, yeah? Plus, I’m starving.”

I rub my face, trying to shake the lingering haze of sleep. “But... why now? And why did you—” I gesture toward the door, where her slapping had nearly given me a heart attack.

She shrugs, her grin widening. “I thought you could use a wake-up call. Literally.” Before I can argue, she cuts me off. “Ten. Minutes. Tick-tock.”

And just like that, she’s out the door, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion. I stand there for a moment, my pulse still racing, before my body kicks into gear.

I rush to the bathroom, flipping on the light and wincing at my reflection. My hair is a tangled mess, and there’s a faint crease from the pillow on my cheek. I wet my face with cold water, brush my teeth in record time, and drag a comb through my hair until it’s manageable.

Back in the bedroom, I grab the first dress I can find—a simple floral sundress with cap sleeves—and pull it over my head. I don’t even check the mirror before rushing out the door.

By the time I reach the living room, Lila is already waiting in the foyer, her arms crossed and a look of mock impatience on her face.

“Cutting it close, aren’t we?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

I straighten my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I made it, didn't I?”

“Barely.” She turns and heads out the front door, her boots clomping against the steps. “Come on, Evie. Let’s go get some coffee before I pass out.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving me to trail behind her like a puppy on a leash.

But wait, that's twice now—Evie?

Just outside is a waiting car. Lila circles it to the other side while I open the backseat door and sink into the cool leather of the backseat. Lila flops down beside me, her energy impossible to ignore. The driver—a man in a sharp black suit with a face like carved stone—glances at us in the rearview mirror.

“Morning, Karl,” Lila chirps, her voice light and amused. “The Sunny Side Café. And don’t take the scenic route. I’m wasting away over here.”

He nods, his eyes flicking back to the road, and the car slides smoothly into motion. I watch as the house recedes in the window. It’s eerily quiet outside, the world still waking up, but inside the car, Lila’s energy is enough to fill the space.

She hums under her breath, tapping her fingers against her thigh in a staccato rhythm. The sound is oddly soothing, like the ticking of a clock, and before I realize it, I’m tapping my own fingers against my knee in sync. She catches the movement and smirks, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re a morning person,” she declares, as if she’s just discovered a secret. “Or at least, you could be.”

I frown, still trying to shake the fog from my brain. “No, I’m not. I’m not a night person, either. I’m a sleep person.”

She laughs, a sharp, ringing sound that makes me jump. “Oh, Evie, you’re adorable when you’re half-asleep.”

I glance at her, narrowing my eyes. “You know, most people would consider it rude to wake someone up like that.”

“And most people would have told me to fuck off,” she shoots back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re not most people, and neither am I.”

I sigh, leaning my head against the window. “You’re impossible.”

“You have no idea.”

The drive is mercifully short, and before I can fully process the blur of streets and buildings outside, the car pulls up in front of a small, unassuming café. The sign reads The Sunny Side Café in cheery yellow letters, and the smell of bacon and coffee wafts through the air, sharp and inviting.

Lila is out of the car before Karl even has a chance to open the door, striding toward the entrance with the confidence of someone who owns the place. I follow, my eyes adjusting to the warm glow once we get inside. The café is cozy, with red vinyl booths and chrome details that scream 1950s charm. I catch the scent of butter and syrup, and my stomach growls in response.

We slide into a booth in the back, Lila claiming the side facing the door. She grabs a menu and begins flipping through it while I try to catch my breath and wrap my head around the last 20 minutes.

The waitress arrives, a perky woman with a name tag reading "Dawn," and takes our order. Lila insists on coffee first, and when Dawn nods and hurries off, Lila leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

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