Page 105 of The Bittersweet Bond

His hand, which had been hanging in the air between them, finally found its way to her arm—and he pulled her in.

"I fucked up. I know that. Just give me one shot to prove I mean it."

Evin felt the heat of his body, and despite herself, her body reacted instinctively.

"I won't mess this up again." He added.

Her heart raced wildly, and for a moment, the noise of the party, the cold of the night—everything disappeared.

There was only him.

She paused.

She was done being rational. Her mind screamed no—but he was the only thing that quieted the noise.

Closed her eyes for a brief second—then opened them again.

"Take me home."

The words were soft, almost a whisper—but they meant more than she let on.

Bas blinked, surprised.

But before he could respond, she quickly added: "I just want to get out of here."

It wasn’t a request. It was a fact.

He was chaos. Chaos she knew. Chaos she could predict. And maybe that’s exactly what she needed.

Bas hesitated for only a second.

Then he nodded—short, sharp, like an order had just been given.

Andjust as she thought he would finally let her lead—He didn’t.

"But I’m not taking you home."

Evin raised an eyebrow, ready to argue—but something in his voice, in his eyes, stopped her.

_________

Sebastian

The moment Bas took her hand, he knew she would follow him.

The night was cold, cooler than expected, the air biting against his skin, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that Evin was here with him, and the pressure of her hand in his gave him a sense of certainty he rarely ever felt.

He pulled her along, determined. But when he felt her slow down, he stopped.

"Where are you taking me?" Evin’s voice held a trace of irritation.

Bas turned to her, his eyes searching hers. A boyish smile flickered across his lips. The answer wasn’t entirely clear to him either, but he knew he had to explain it somehow.

"It’s a place you know. Just trust me," he finally said, hoping that would be enough.

She hesitated, her forehead creasing slightly. But then—she didn’t say anything else.

Maybe it was the alcohol making her resistance weaker, or maybe it was something else—the quiet desire not to ruin the moment.

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