39. Chapter 34
The Thief Of Control
Sebastian
L etting the heavy barbell clatter back into its rack, the metallic sound echoing off the gym walls, Bas briskly wiped his sweat-dampened face with a rough, damp towel.
His pulse throbbed in his ears, not just from the physical exertion of push-ups and heavy weights, but from a churn of nerves deep within him.
His phone buzzed again, the small screen lighting up with a simple message: "I'm in." The terse words sent a ripple of unease through his stomach, twisting it into knots.
Evin had agreed to join them tonight.
The prospect of seeing her ignited a cocktail of excitement and anxiety in Bas.
He pictured her vibrant laugh and confident stride, yet wondered how his crew would respond.
This wasn’t just another casual date—Evin had an intensity about her that made his heart race in a delirious mix of thrill and dread.
Unlike other times when he had dated someone without a seco nd thought, Evin unsettled him in a way that flared memories of Ben, an echo of vulnerability lurking behind every smile.
His friends had always watched him with a quiet skepticism, never outright saying it, but their glances hinted at disapproval. Now, the fear gnawed at him: What if they saw his feelings for her as a sign of weakness once more?
Bas had prided himself on his cool-headed strength, the impeccable control he maintained even in the heat of battle. Yet the thought of Evin stirred something inside him that made self-restraint nearly impossible—a chaos that blurred every line between determination and desire.
And then there was the looming shadow of his father.
Bas allowed a bitter smirk to creep across his face as he pictured the stern, disapproving frown his old man would wear if he ever learned that Bas was with someone like Evin.
She was daring, unbridled, and everything his family would scorn in a partner.
Every expectation his family had cast upon him felt heavier than the weights he lifted, and with Evin, the pressure rose to an unbearable level.
His father valued status, wealth, and a meticulously crafted reputation over erratic feelings and unpredictable love, considering them frailties that people like them should never entertain.
Evin, however, had subverted all his carefully constructed defenses, emerging as the very reason his control faltered.
Images cascaded through his mind—his friends’ judgmental stares, whispered criticisms over beers; his father's icy disapproval, each thought a tightening chain around his chest.
In a surge of exasperation, Bas unleashed his frustration on the punching bag, slamming his fist into its synthetic surface with a thud that reverberated through the gym. The raw, damp air seemed to pulse with his anger and confusion.
"Why does everything have to be this complicated?" he muttered, the question lost amid the rhythmic thumps of the bag. Why couldn’t the simple act of following his heart be free from the crushing weight of expectations?
Yet then, as if on cue, a memory of Evin’s dazzling smile broke through the tempest of his thoughts—a fleeting vision that made all the external pressures seem trivial. For that brief, shimmering moment, it was only about her and nothing else mattered.
With renewed determination, he stuffed his towel back into its worn gym bag and took one final, pensive glance at the mirror, watching his tired reflection morph into the image of a man caught between duty and desire.
The workout had drained his muscles, but his mind remained entangled in webs of worry and longing.
A deep, measured sigh escaped him as he pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating a text from Bellamy:
Bellamy
Meet at my place before the party. Pre-drinks before we hit The Pearl.
A slight smile tugged at Bas’s lips—at last, a plan with a clear destination. It was perfect.
__________
Bas slumped back into the couch, clutching a beer bottle as the guys around him riffed off each other’s jokes. The conversation buzzed with a carefree vibe—until Dominic swiveled towards him, a smug grin plastered on his face.
"So, Montgomery," Dominic drawled, his voice dripping with venomous mockery. "Back at it with Miss Drama, huh? Looks like you just can’t get enough of the chaos."
Bas's jaw clenched tight. Miss Drama . That condescending tone, as if Evin was just a whirlwind of trouble.
Dominic had never liked her. That much was obvious.
And for a split second, Bas could swear he almost seemed nostalgic—like he missed the days when he didn’t like her either.
When it was easy to roll his eyes at her sharp comebacks, to make fun of the way she always had an opinion, always stood her ground.
A flicker of something bitter twisted in his gut.
There were moments—moments he wasn’t proud of—back in their middle years, when he’d been just as bad as Dominic. When he let himself get swept up in the laughter, mocking her just because she never shut up, because she always had something to say.
He remembered last school year —Mr. Smith had made some snide comment about Milka’s skirt, loud enough for the whole class to hear. Everyone had laughed. Everyone but Evin.
She’d stood up, chin raised, and said, “Maybe don’t comment on teenage girls’ bodies if you want people to respect you.”
It went dead silent.
Bas had felt it in his chest—that flash of awe. But still, when someone said loudly, “drama queen,”.
He’d laughed. And she saw it.
Evin had always been outspoken, as far back as he could remember. She had this certainty about her, a fire in her voice that made him feel like he was standing on shaky ground. It had irritated him back then. Maybe even intimidated him.
She had been stronger than he ever was.
Back then he hadn’t been 6’3". And she hadn’t looked fragile next to him. Not like she did now.
And maybe that was what pissed Dominic off the most.
Maybe he wanted those days back. The version of Bas that didn’t give a shit. His wingman—the one who didn’t hesitate before taking whatever he wanted.
Bas felt the frustration coil in his chest, ready to snap.
A surge of fierce protectiveness flared within him—a burning need to shut Dominic up, to crush his smugness into dust. But before he could fire back, Bellamy cut in like a blade.
"Shut the fuck up, man," he said coldly, lighting a cigarette with a practiced flick. "You and I both know Evin’s got more backbone than you ever will."
Chr is chimed in, shaking his head in agreement. "Dominic, cut the bullshit. That topic’s ancient history. If we start listing all the crap Bas has put Evin through, we’ll be here till dawn."
A flicker of relief washed over Bas, even as Chris's words jabbed at him.
"No offense, bro," Chris added hastily.
His boys had his back, almost as if they sensed he didn’t have the strength to handle Dominic’s crap tonight. Yet the thought gnawed at him—he should be the one standing up for Evin.
Dominic shrugged nonchalantly, taking a long, arrogant swig from his bottle before sneering, "Hey, if you’re into that whole circus, go for it…
Just don’t forget, Bas—she brings chaos.
Just like she did a few months ago with Ben.
" His grin widened, a self-satisfied smirk that made Bas's muscles coil with tension.
The urge to lash out, to tear into Dominic, seethed beneath his skin, but again—Bellamy intervened.
"Chill, D. Bas knows exactly what he’s doing."
Bellamy shot Bas a look—a silent challenge. You’ve got this under control, right?
Bas nodded slowly, taking a deep swig from his beer, as a storm of frustration and gratitude churned inside him.
Yeah, he knew what he was doing.
Evin was all he ever wanted—that truth was unshakeable.
But damn, it wasn’t easy.
They had a history of fighting loud and making out harder. And every time they clashed or voices were raised—people watched.
At school. At parties. There were always eyes on them.
Girls whispered and guys made side comments.
The louder the arguments, the harsher the judgment when they made up.
And Bas—he had never known how to explain it.
Back then, he cared.
About his reputation. About being liked. About what everyone thought.
Especially his dad.
But now ?
Now Evin was the only thing that mattered.
And if the whole fucking school had a problem with that—
Fuck'em.
But Dominic wasn’t completely wrong though.
Still—let’s be real—when had a little drama ever killed anyone?
__________
Evin
H er reflection smirked back at her. Confident. Playful. She looked hot—no doubt about it.
The silver glitter top hugged her frame perfectly, revealing just enough to tease without overdoing it. The way it clung to her, the way the fabric draped over her collarbones and skimmed the sharp lines of her shoulders—it was different now.
Everything fit differently now.
The baggy, light-wash jeans sat lower on her hips than they used to, emphasizing the curve of her waist in a way she hadn’t noticed before. Even her Converse looked a little oversized, as if her whole frame had been reshaped.
She should feel bad about it.
She knew she should.
Her weight loss wasn’t something to celebrate. It wasn’t the result of discipline, of training, of control—it had been ripped from her, stolen by something she would do anything to undo.
But right now?
Right now, she felt beautiful.
It was a cruel kind of irony.
Evi n turned slightly, running a hand down her body, feeling the way her ribs sat just a little more pronounced beneath her fingertips. Clothes fell differently on her body now—sleek, effortless.
A bitter smile played on her lips.
Wasn’t this what she had wanted?
She swallowed hard, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
As she reached for her phone on the dresser, she caught sight of herself in the mirror—and noticed the faint smirk playing on her lips.
Maybe it wasn’t just the outfit.
Maybe it had a little to do with Bas.