Not Today | ✔️

Chapter Forty Eight.

"Sweet and sour motivation
Wish I could keep concentration..."

✧✧✧

Evelyn tried to be subtle as she watched Tristan over her book, her eyes following his moves intensely, but she couldn't help the look of astonishment on her face as she watched him eat his muffin.

"What?" he finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why do you eat it like that?" she asked, gesturing towards the muffin, which he'd begun eating by unwrapping the paper and eating the cup, before finally eating the rounded top. She'd noticed it before, but damn if it wasn't a peculiar way of eating a muffin.

"The top is usually sprinkled with sugar," he said with a shrug. "I like saving the sweetest part for last."

Evelyn didn't reply with words, only a hum of acknowledgement as she continued to watch him over her book.

It had been a week since the anniversary of his mom's death. And slowly, Tristan had begun to act like himself again. More than that, he was absolutely determined to fix their friendship, shown in the littlest moments where he would sneak her his pineapple gummy bears or hand her hot chocolate when she was reading in the library.

It was shown in the bigger moments, too, like now. They were, in fact, at a gym.

Evelyn, despite appreciating the gesture, absolutely refused to get into the boxing ring until the gym was clear of people, so they were left sitting on the floor, Tristan snacking on his muffin as Evelyn read her novel.

They hadn't talked about it, but her feelings were a tangled mess after waking up with Tristan again. Though he didn't try anything, she woke up to the feeling of him lightly tracing the scarred skin of her back, while he thought she was asleep. The touch was so delicate that she almost felt like his fingers were touching something precious, like thick cashmere or soft silk, but it was just her.

Evelyn returned to her book and got about seventy more pages in before Tristan spoke her name, which made her look up.

"The gym is officially clear," he said with a smile. "You know what that means, John Cena."

"John Cena is a wrestler, not a boxer," Evelyn said as she stood, raising an eyebrow at him. "And you call yourself an athlete."

Tristan just gave her a flat stare before he pulled himself into the ring and held out a hand to help her up, alongside him. He opened his mouth, presumably to speak, but whatever he was planning to say was cut off as she instead lifted her shirt and cardigan off, so she was left only in a sports bra that said, 'organic coconuts'.

"What are you doing?" he choked out, his cheeks turning red.

She shrugged. "All boxers wear sports bras."

"Right," he said, his voice strained.

"Are you going to teach me how to Kung Fu Panda someone's ass, or what?" Evelyn asked when Tristan was still silent, yet again trying to avoid staring at her chest.

"Evelyn," he said with a small laugh. "Kung Fu is a martial art. We're going to do boxing."

"Well, right now, all we're doing is standing around like chumps," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Now teach me how to wipe the floor with someone."

Tristan laughed loudly. "Always so vicious."

"You like it."

"Only when it's you," he said, winking at her. "Now get into a boxing stance."