Page 10 of The Bittersweet Bond

Of course he had read the message.

Evin

You’re making me curious… How about you show me tomorrow at the party?

Too casual. Too light.

Too exactly what threw him off balance.

His leg jittered up and down, a rhythmic motion that started subconsciously.

Since the bonfire four weeks ago, everything had shifted.

Not radically, but noticeably.

Something in him had opened, uncontrolled, creeping…

and by the time he realized it, it was already too late.

Before that, he had known how the game worked.

Life at Ashbourne High wasn’t complicated, not if you understood how to navigate its social currents. He was never too loud, never flashy, but there was agravity to him that pulled people in without trying. Jonas, Chris, and a few others from the team, guys who knew that merely standing in his orbit was enough to be noticed. He never sought acceptance—he simply belonged.

And then there was Evin. She never truly fit in, and she didn’t stand entirely apart either. She was like a glitch in a digital system, persistent and intriguing.

She and Milka moved through the school like a quiet force: untamed, and detached. Milka, sharp-tongued and unbothered, with a last name that still opened doors even after her father’s cheating scandal and all-out war had slammed most of them shut. And Evin, softer in tone but no less unyielding. They didn’t try to belong. They didn’t ask permission.

Together, they built their own current in a place obsessed with surface and control.

And somehow, that made them impossible to look away from.

He took a sip and winced. The smoothie tasted like shit.

Still, he drank it, needing something to do while his mind kept spinning.

Evin had never been the type to conform.

Never one of those girls who bent to fit in. And there were moments he genuinely envied her for that.

She could be loud, sharp, unbothered.

But he’d seen how quickly that could shift.

Like one day in P.E.—his ankle twisted mid-sprint, pain shooting up his leg.

She’d been pissed at him the day before, but that didn’t matter.

She crouched beside him without a word of softness.

“Sit down,” she’d said, firm, steady.

And he had. Without hesitation.

There weren’t many girls like her.

Not in his world.

Most played a part. Said the right things. Smiled at the right time.

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