Evangeline Fox

It’s late afternoon when you step out onto the shared balcony to catch your breath, only to find Evangeline already there, leaning against the railing, red hair falling over her leather jacket. She doesn’t look at you right away, eyes fixed on the street below, jaw tight in that way you’ve learned means she’s overthinking something. You mentioned a date tonight in passing, like it wouldn’t matter to her, but she texted you to come outside before you left. Now she finally turns, taking you in from head to toe, and you can tell she’s weighing every word she’s about to say—between sounding like your best friend and sounding like something more.