"Come on, Ellie, don't even argue," Sophia insisted, tugging at my arm as she dragged me into her room."You are staying here tonight. It's been ages since our last sleepover," Sophia continued.
I laughed, dropping my overnight bag onto her bed.
The Donovan's house was no stranger to me. I've been coming here since my childhood. Sometimes, it felt like I was more like Sophia's honorary sister rather than just her best friends.
"Fine," I said, shaking my head. "But only if you promise not to force me to watch one of your three-hour drama marathons."
Sophia gasped, "How dare you," she pushed me onto the bed.
We both laughed crazily while reminiscing our teenagers' day.
Suddenly her phone buzzed and her face dropped as she read the message.
"Ugh, Ellie. I am really sorry. I just got notified by my team that I need to meet them at the campus now. This is all because of that stupid presentation." Sophia muttered.
"Damn, it is so hateful. After so long, I'm planning for this sleepover, only for it to be crushed by my presentation. I hate to leave you alone in this room, Ellie, but this presentation is really important," said Sophia.
"I hate Professor McCartney with all my heart. Arghhh.." screamed Sophia.
I waved her off. "It's okay, just go. I will just raid your snack stash until you get back."
Sophia hugged me quickly, guilt written all over her face. "Thank you, Ellie. You know I love you, right?" said Sophia.
"Just stay here as long as you want. I swear I won't be long, and I'll text you the soonest I am done," she continued.
And just like that, Sophia was gone.
The house felt quieter without Sophia's laughter. I scrolled aimlessly through my phone before deciding that I was thirsty.
Walking down the stairs in my socks, padding through the hallway, I made my way to the kitchen.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
Someone was already there, standing at the kitchen counter.
A man, standing by at the edge of the counter, with his tall, broad-shouldered back, pouring himself a glass of water.
His presence was commanding, even in the errie silence of the night.
Suddenly, he turned his back. The dim kitchen light caught his features, black sharp eyes, face older than I could have remember, an unfamiliar yet achingly familiar face.
His sharp eyes locked onto mine.
After the long staring competition, I heard his voice.
"Ellie Everett," he said slowly, recognition flickering across his face.
My breath got caught.
It's him.
It was Tristan Donovan.