Evaline:
Draven still wouldn't look at me.
No matter how I shifted, moved, or leaned closer, he kept his gaze fixed stubbornly away, as if the walls of my room were suddenly more fascinating than me. My patience was thinning, my heart thumping with worry and guilt, but his coldness was sharper than any blade.
I glanced over my shoulder at Oscar, who had made himself far too comfortable. He was sitting on my bed like he owned the place, his arms folded and lips curved in that infuriating smirk that said he was enjoying every second of this. His legs were crossed, his back leaning lazily against my pillows as if he had settled down to watch a private show.
One look at him and I knew. No help. No support. No rescue. He was content to let me drown in Draven's sulking storm.
