EVE.
By the time I got home, Saint was already back. And he was waiting for me in my room.
A cigarette burned between his fingers. My bed was covered in shopping bags, more dumped on the floor, stacked against the wall, while some rested beside his feet, like he'd emptied out half a mall just to prove a point.
I stopped cold.
He dragged slowly on the cigarette, tapped ash into the tray, never taking his eyes off me like he was assessing me. And when he puffed out smoke from his mouth, he spoke.
"What the f**k are you wearing, Eve?" His gaze ran down and up, flat and unimpressed.
I looked at him strangely. He wasn't going to ask where I was coming from? That's strange.
"I... It's... Clothes?" I said, because my brain tripped over his tone. I wasn't sure what he meant. Of course, he d
