"Where are you going so early in the morning, sister?"
Criselle almost jumped. The polished floor was still cool under her shoes when she stepped from her room, and she'd barely turned into the adjoining hallway when a voice, low and lazy, slid into the quiet. She turned sharply and found Evan leaning against the wall as though he'd been waiting.
One hand rested deep in his pocket, the other held an apple, half-eaten. He took another bite, the crunch sharp in the stillness. His posture was the perfect picture of ease, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes, bright with amusement, followed her movements.
"Evan," she said, her voice clipped.
He grinned at the hint of irritation. "You should stop drinking coffee. Look at you, already jumpy this early. It makes you nervous."
Criselle rolled her eyes and started walking. "Can you please mind your own business? I'm going to shop for a gown."
