The Bittersweet Bond (Under Barbara’s Sky #1)

5. Prologue

Prologue

A Storm of Emotions

Sebastian

T he sky above Santa Barbara stretched wide and indifferent, dressed in deep hues of navy and ember, as if it were watching—watching the flames of the bonfire cast restless shadows across the beach, the crackling of the fire blending with the lively laughter and chatter of the crowd.

It was Ashbourne High’s annual bonfire, marking the start of the football season, a celebratory beginning to what was supposed to be another carefree school year.

Bas stood in the middle of it all, one arm loosely draped around Cat, who was chatting with her friends with a coy smile.

He knew this game: stolen glances, accidental touches—a dance he had long since mastered.

But the moment his gaze met Evin’s, the world around him started to blur.

There she was, standing at the edge of the crowd, bathed in the restless flickering of the firelight, as if it had been lit solely to highlight her. The way she moved, laughed… never forced and never trying. She didn’t chase attention, it found her.

A storm of conflicting emotions raged inside Bas as he watched her. His jaw tightening under the weight of that all-too-familiar jealousy. Why did she always have to be the center of attention? Tonight, of all nights , when he had hoped, just for once, that things might be different...

But he forced himself to shut that thought down, biting the inside of his cheek to silence the voice battling against his rational mind.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Just another fleeting moment stirring that nagging sense of resentment inside him. And yet, the unease remained.

Then he noticed a guy. Some new kid, not even a name worth mentioning in the passing conversations of the night, leaning in toward her, whispering something in her ear while his hand rested so casually on her shoulder.

And the way she smiled at him ignited a fire inside Bas that he could barely contain.

Cat gently pulled on his arm.

“Bas?” she asked, throwing Evin a dismissive glance before letting out a quiet, mocking scoff. “Can’t you just… let it go? That’s just how she is.”

Her tone said it all. She knew how Evin got under his skin.

"She’s not one of us, Bas. You’re old enough to know better. Don’t be stupid!"

His father’s words clawed their way back into his mind, sharp-edged and suffocating.

A lump formed in his throat. He hated that even after all these years, those words still haunted him. That they wedged themselves between him and Evin every damn time he got too close.

He forced a smile. “I know,” he murmured toward Cat, closing his eyes for a second, willing himself to suppress the growing urge to act.

Why couldn’t she just be like everyone else? Why did she always have this effect on him?

He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to focus on the group, and the voices surrounding him. Cat pressed closer, her grip tightening as if she were trying to pull him back to reality.

"Come on, bro, like you actually want her," one of the guys had laughed once when Evin had walked past them at school.

"She acts like she’s better than us."

"She’s cheap. She just doesn’t realize it."

"She turns us all down like she thinks she’s too good for us—not like she doesn’t want to."

They weren’t wrong.

Evin was too good for them. But Bas had never said anything. He had just clenched his jaw. They couldn’t have her. So they hated her.

They didn’t get her. None of them ever had.

There had been guys. But each one worse than the last.

Like that idiot Carter in ninth grade, who had no idea what to do when she cried during a movie and told her she was “too much.”

Or Matt, who claimed he liked strong girls but panicked the first time she raised her voice.

They wanted her smile, her beauty, her attention, but the moment she became complicated, the moment it got messy or real, they bailed.

They didn’t see it.

But Bas did.

He saw the sharp edges and the softness underneath. The way she burned bright and broke quietly.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, he knew: He was the only one who ever really could handle her.

And still… he hadn’t tried.

Because deep down, he was just as much of a coward as the rest of them.

Letting her go was easier than standing up to the voice in his head that sounded a hell of a lot like his father’s.

The constant push and pull between his own feelings and everyone else’s judgment was what made her so dangerously fascinating to him.

And that was exactly why he kept trying to push her away. The voices against Evin had always been too loud .

He knew he should do exactly what Cat said: let go and suppress.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Because some part of him, deep inside, wanted her to see him. To drop the act, to turn around and come to him.

Cat fit. She was easy, predictable, a perfect picture.

The kind of girl who didn’t demand more than he was willing to give. A girl who didn’t try to change him.

But before he had even begun to regain control of himself, the image of that guy’s hand on Evin’s shoulder flared up in his mind again. And with it irrational anger.

And the moment she stepped away, probably toward Milka, Bas noticed—this was all he needed.

Maybe this guy needs a lesson. Bas projected his frustration onto him, like he was the reason for the chaos inside him.

Yeah! Who the hell does he think he is?

With a quiet breath Bas let his hand slip from Cat’s shoulder. Slowly he moved toward the drinks table, keeping it casual, until he was close enough.

Then, without a hint of hesitation, he bumped into the guy.

A precise, controlled shove—strong enough to throw him off balance.

"What the hell, man?" The guy tried to play it cool, but Bas caught the slight waver in his voice.

"Watch where you’re standing," Bas replied calmly. His words were casual.

The guy squared his shoulders, crossing his arms as he twisted his face into a challenging expression. "What’s your problem, dude?"

Bas let out a chuckle, cold and humorless. Then he stepped in closer, narrowing the space between them.

"My problem?" he echoed, lowering his voice into something dangerous. "My problem is you walking around like you belong here. Like you’re somebody. "

The guy’s confused gaze flickered through the crowd, searching for support, but the tense stares of the onlookers left no doubt about who was in charge here .

Poor bastard.

"What, you hit on every girl who’s alone for three minutes?" Bas let the words slip out casually, but his tone was laced with sarcasm and something darker. Something he wouldn’t even admit to himself.

"Chill, man. I didn’t even do anything," the guy protested, raising his hands in mock surrender.

But Bas had already passed the point where reason could reach him.

That damn need to protect Evin from anyone who might hurt her.

That’s what he told himself. That’s the excuse he clung to.

But the truth? This was never about her.

It was about him. About the anger coiling inside him, about the fucking loss of control every time she smiled at someone else.

About the fact that nothing—no fight, no girl, no distraction—had ever been enough to make him stop wanting her.

In that moment, the lines blurred, and before he could stop himself, he shoved him hard.

“Oh yeah? Was that nothing?” His words dripped with aggression, and the guy stumbled but quickly caught himself.

A few people nearby had stopped, throwing glances at them, and someone let out a loud “Ooooh!”—the kind that only fueled the tension in the air, the kind that signaled that the situation was about to escalate even further, because once a fight started, there was no stopping it.

“What the fuck is your problem, man? You looking for trouble?” The guy moved in like he couldn’t decide if this was worth a fight.

“If that’s what it takes,” Bas murmured, preparing for what was about to happen next.

Before the guy could respond, Bas grabbed his shirt, pushing him roughly backward.

He landed one solid punch, then another, each impact sending a jolt through his knuckles, but before he could swing again, hands were already pulling him away.

Voices shouted around them, friends and classmates quickly stepping in, separating them before things could spiral further out of control.

Bas stumbled back, heart racing, chest heaving, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he realized just how quickly he'd lost his grip .

He felt the blood pumping through his body.

“You want more?” His voice was rough, somehow hoarse from the impact. A smirk crept onto his lips, uncontainable, the high of the fight still buzzing in his system, the satisfaction settling in his bones like a high, like something he didn’t want to let go of just yet.

He had won. That much was obvious.

But before he could even enjoy the moment—

“Bas!”

Evin’s voice rang out across the beach, cutting through the tension.

His smirk only grew as he turned, noticing Evin heading straight toward him. Her expression was furious and disappointed even, but right now he didn’t care.

The second she reached them, she barely even looked at him. Her attention went straight to the other guy instead, concern briefly flickering across her face as she quickly checked if he was okay.

“Ben, are you okay?” she asked quickly, her voice clipped, urgent, filled with something Bas didn’t want to name, something that made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like.

Ben .

Bas barely registered the name. His focus was locked on her .

The way she looked at him. The way her whole body bristled with barely contained anger, her shoulders tight, her fingers curled into fists, her breath coming fast and shallow, like she was holding herself back from saying exactly what she wanted to say.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Her voice slammed into him, louder than the ocean in the background.

He forced a tired look. A part of him twisted, knowing he had gone too far. Knowing this had never been about her. Not about protecting her. Not about anything other than his own fucking frustration.

She should be grateful… He had just saved her from a bad decision.

"Maybe if you didn’t act so desperate, we wouldn’t have this problem" he snapped, watching as her wide, doe-like eyes instantly sharpened into something lethal .

But instead of backing down, she stepped closer.

And his breath caught.

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Her voice was dangerous, and she was like a storm raging just for him.

His muscles tensed instinctively. Something about her determination, the way she stood her ground, made him buzz with an intensity he couldn’t describe. That self-assured glint in her eyes—as if she could put him in his place at any moment.

The cracks in his facade of indifference started to show, though he tried to maintain his composure.

Inside, he felt an overwhelming urge to give in, to claim her once and for all.

Fuck, she looked good, even better when she was this close, anger sparking in her eyes and defiance on her lips. The sharpness in her voice sent heat coursing through his veins.

It was like she had him wrapped up in an invisible game he couldn’t resist, a tension that burned under his skin and refused to let go.

Whatever she was waking in him, it was sharp, possessive, almost feral, and it made it nearly impossible to stand still.

There she was—fearless, defiant, her gaze burning into his like a dare.

It enraged him, because somehow she still held the upper hand, and he hated how much he wanted her because of it.

The fight with the other guy didn’t matter anymore.

“Whose fault do you think it is?” he shot back finally.

The sharp gleam in her eyes pierced him, and he could almost feel the heat radiating between them. Every inch of her confident expression held him captive in ways he didn’t want to admit.

Damn it, if she came any closer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back… so untouchable, yet so tantalizingly close.