THE PUCKING FORBIDDEN LOVE.

Evelina's POV ‘Jesus Christ’ was the first word that I groaned out, clutching tight to my head. I shut my eyes tighter, not daring to open them, because I could literally see the damn lights from my eyes closed. The lights were blinding, too bright, unforgiving. My temples throbbed like someone was inside my skull with a hammer and a nail, hitting inside of my brain with zero patience. I swallowed hard, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and metal and blood and rotten pizza. That weird tang hit the back of my throat. Blood? Probably. Vodka? Also probably. Regret? Most definitely. All three mixed together to form a delicious cocktail—or rather an unpleasant cocktail of deep shame. I had gone out to drink. Fuck. I cracked one eye open. The ceiling fan was spinning slow and lazy, like it didn’t give a damn about my pain and that I needed that fan desperately as my hair stuck to my forehead, my body slick with sweat. My blankets were halfway to the floor, twisted around my legs like I’d fought someone in my sleep or had a nightmare. I jolted, sitting up too fast. My eyes burned and the room spun. I dropped my head between my knees and waited for the spinning to settle, breathing through the nausea that threatened to pour out. Flashes from last night tried to push through. Music. Sweat. Lights. A packed room. Laughter that wasn’t mine. Then— A face. A feeling. A golden pair of eyes. I didn't know what that all meant, but I knew that it didn't offer me comfort or danger. I just felt… pressure. Like being watched too closely. I picked up my phone. It was dead. Figures. I reached for my water bottle and found it empty. Also figures. I dragged myself to the bathroom and stared at the wreck in the mirror. Mascara under my eyes, hair matted at the sides. My neck had faint red marks. That means I… someone must had leaned in too close, touched too much and we… Oh God, No! I groaned. I didn’t remember. That should’ve scared me, but weirdly, it didn’t. What did scare me was the humming under my skin. Like I had swallowed electricity and it hadn’t burned out yet. It was subtle, but constant. A low buzz in my bones. My heart thumped and the humming got even worse. I had to calm myself. Take a deep breath, and I'll be fine. It was just the result of alcohol. Then I saw it on my arm, three faint parallel, clean lines right above my elbow, on the inside. Too shallow to be fresh. Too neat to be accidental. I rubbed at them. Nothing happened. They didn’t sting. They didn’t fade. They were just…there, though u felt that area pulse. I stared at them longer than I should’ve. I didn’t remember falling. I didn’t remember scraping anything. And even if I had, these didn’t look like scrapes. They looked like something had marked me purposefully. It most de I pulled my sleeve down and didn’t look at them again. The day moved on faster than I had expected. I threw on jeans and a hoodie. I didn’t even bother with makeup because, after all, who was I throwing in makeup for? My class was already starting in ten minutes and I still had to stop by the library to return a book I had finished reading. I loved books so much. They are the much needed temporary distraction in my chaotic life. I gathered the book and jammed the book under my arm and walked fast, my head down, earbuds in with no music playing. Just noise-canceling. I wasn’t in the mood for people. I didn’t want any sort of interaction with them. People. And maybe, that’s exactly why it happened. I turned a sharp corner by the science block and smashed straight into someone. My book hit the ground hard. So did his coffee. I stumbled back, my arms flailing for balance, and landed on my ass, groaning in pain, because, damn, it hurt. ‘s**t. Sorry,’ I muttered, not looking up yet. My palms stung from the impact of the fall. ‘You okay?’ a low, smooth voice that sounded way too calm asked. I looked up and froze. It was him. Silas Everheart. Hockey star. Campus golden boy. The guy every sorority girl fawned over, and every frat guy wanted to be. His body screamed every bit of the hockey player he was. He was crouched in front of me, reaching for my book. His hand stopped halfway. His eyes, dark brown, warm but sharp, locked on mine. And then I felt something shift. The easy smile he always had in photos, that cocky grin people drooled over, vanished. It was gone. In its place was something I couldn’t read. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle but didn’t know the rules. His eyes darkened. His eyes fixed on me. I sat there, blinking, trying to move, but my limbs weren’t listening. I sat there, wondering why the hell my body started to thrum like a static, just like when I woke up this morning. He handed me the book. Our fingers brushed, and that was the second everything went sideways. A shock shot up my arm. Not static. Not friction. Something deeper. It felt like it came from inside me. Like something in me had been asleep for a long time and just got yanked wide awake. I bit back a sharp cry. It hurt so much. It felt like something inside me was restless and…hungry. Images flashed in my head and I shut my eyes to rein them in. I couldn’t tell what those images were. I just kept seeing flashes upon flashes, feeling my body burn up, and up. I clenched my fists and suddenly it stopped. I flinched. So did he. He pulled his hand back fast, like I burned him.