"Are you all right, Miss Trevelyan?"
Evelyn looks away from the city as it rolls by through the passenger window and sees Cullen's eyes watching her in the rear view mirror.
"Yeah," she smiles weakly, her posture slightly perking up. "It's been a long day, that's all."
While thatis true, it isn't the truth in its entirety.
Fact #2: Evelyn Trevelyan finds Cullen distracting.
Very distracting, in fact. Distracting enough to make her momentarily lose her chain of thought in the middle of her televised interview with Dorian when she glanced at him as he silently watched next to one of the camera men.
"Holy shit."
As they drive by their hotel, they see a swarm of paparazzi stationed outside, snapping at some celebrity who has apparently just arrived.
"We'll try the back," Cullen says, his jaw tensing as his eyes sweep over the cameras.
Turns out that too is a no-go.
"Shit," Evelyn swears as she glares at the waiting paparazzi. "Shit, shit, shit."
"It's all right," Cullen tells her in a soothing voice. "I've handled worse before, trust me."
She gazes at the blond hair on the nape of his neck, some of which has started to curl as his mousse or gel or whatever it is he uses on his hair starts to wear off.
"No, let's just drive around a bit. They're only here because of whoever that woman was we saw at the front entrance was. They'll grow tired and wait outside the clubs eventually."
"As you wish," he smiles.
Urgh, that Fereldan accent of his. Makes me weak in the knees, Maker.
Acting on an impulse, Evelyn climbs over the arm rest and slides into the front passenger seat, grinning at the surprised look on Cullen's face. Her short skirt hitches up further, revealing more of her shapely thighs, and she blushes when she notices him sneaking a side glance at her legs from the corner of his eye.
"Ah, La Caféothèque is still open!" Evelyn exclaims when they drive by a cozy little coffee shop. "How about a coffee? I could do with some coffee."
His eyes flash to her face, brow rising in surprise.
"Coffee at eight in the evening?" he asks, his gaze back on the road.
"I'm pretty much immune to caffeine at this point," she smiles. "You can have something else if you want. Do you even like coffee?"
It's easy to forget how much of a stranger this ridiculously beautiful man still is to her.
"I do," he smiles. "And I'm quite immune to it as well, to be honest."
Her smile widens when their eyes briefly meet again. That smile, however, is promptly wiped away when it suddenly stars pouring outside.
"Another reason to hate Val Royeaux," she glowers as he turns off the engine. "The weather is just so unpredictable."
"Wait here," he instructs her before sliding out of the car and running to the boot. A few seconds later, he opens her door and stands to the side, holding up a large, black umbrella for her.
"Oh," she blinks up at him and slides out of the car. "That was quick. Thank you."
He smiles and nods, taking care to hold the umbrella directly over her head. She feels a fresh stream of butterflies fluttering about in her when he places his hand in the small of her back and ducks under the umbrella with her.
He's so tall. And those shoulders! If I didn't see him in just his shirt, I would've sworn he's got some serious shoulder pad action going on under that suit jacket.
He opens the cafe door for her and steps aside, allowing her to walk in first, before he shuts his umbrella and shakes off the rain droplets.
"Ah! My dear Evelyn!" a tall, slender and stunning dark woman greets her from behind the counter. "What an unexpected surprise!"
"Vivienne!" Evelyn beams and hurries towards the woman to kiss her on both cheeks. "So good to see you again! You're keeping the cafe open till late now?"
"Yes, my dear," Vivienne smiles. "I added a dinner menu recently. It's done wonders for the establishment."
"That's great!"
"My, but you look utterly gorgeous, my darling," Vivienne remarks, her eyes scanning Evelyn appreciatively from head to toe. "I was just watching you getting interviewed by that Dorian fellow on television. Marvelous job evading those uncomfortable questions, my dear. He can be so nosysometimes. Ah, and who is this? A friend of yours?"
Evelyn smiles up at Cullen when he stands by her side, keeping a respectable distance between them.
"This is my new bodyguard, Cullen. Cullen, this is Madame Vivienne de Fer, owner of this little establishment."
"A pleasure to meet you, Madame," he smiles and bows his head politely.
Holy fuck, he's like a prince straight out of those Disney movies we all grew up watching.
"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," Vivienne smiles. "So, will it be the usual for you, darling?"
"Yes, just a cappuccino, please. In my favourite large mug."
"Of course. And you, my dear?" she asks Cullen.
"A latte, thanks."
"One cappuccino and one latte, coming right up."
"Come on," Evelyn beckons Cullen and leads him to a candle-lit table in the corner. He clears his throat and sits down across the round marble table from her, his eyes awkwardly darting around the cafe.
"A latte, hmm?" she murmurs, her eyes appraising him closely. "Is that your favourite?"
His eyes flicker over to her, his pale skin visibly turning a faint shade of pink when their eyes lock.
"Not really," he replies. "I'm more of an Irish coffee person, actually. But seeing as I'm on duty tonight..."
"One cup won't kill you."
"Actually, I'm not that much of a drinker," he professes with a crooked smile that makes Evelyn almost bite down on her lower lip. "You'd be surprised how low my tolerance is when it comes to alcohol. Besides, I would never risk your safety, no matter how minimal the risk."
Maker's mercy. He talks like an eighteenth century prince. For fuck's sake, he lookslike an eighteenth century prince. An incredibly sexy one. And in a suit, no less. Fuck, did he just catch me staring? He just caught me staring at him, didn't he?
"Here you are, my dears," Vivienne's silky voice drifts into Evelyn's ear and rouses her from her thoughts. "One cappuccino for you, my darling, and a latte for you, monsieur."
"Thank you," he smiles politely.
"Thanks, Viv," Evelyn beams up at the striking woman before taking a sip of her beverage. She waits until Vivienne is out of earshot before speaking. "So...to pick up where we left off before the talk show; tell me about yourself. You sound Fereldan. Is that where you're from?"
"It is," he nods after a sip of his latte.
"And what did you do back there?"
"I was a soldier in the army, actually," he replies, his fingers drumming against the mug in his large hands. "Special Forces."
"Woah," Evelyn's eyes widen. "Special Forces. That's..that's amazing! But wait... I thought Varric told me you were a champion boxer?"
"Oh. That." He smiles and takes another sip, licking the coffee off his lips before proceeding. "That was more of a hobby. It wasn't a career or anything of the sort."
"Ah," Evelyn nods and sits back, her eyes now focusing on the vertical scar on his upper lip. "Is that how you got that?"
He blinks at her before catching her meaning.
"What, my scar? No. I got this while on deployment. Some shrapnel from a blast."
"Tell me about it."
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flickering down to his mug.
"I...I'd prefer not to," he replies awkwardly. "It isn't exactly a time I want to relive."
"Of course! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
He slowly gazes back up at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.
"It's all right," he murmurs. "I'm used to being asked about it. The scar, I mean."
"It's cool," Evelyn tells him softly. "I like it."
She smiles when she sees the colour quickly flood back to his cheeks and ears. He clears his throat and shifts around in his seat again, his eyes awkwardly darting around the cafe.
"This uhh...this is a nice place," he comments.
Maker's breath, he's such a dork. In a good way, I mean. In an adorable way.
"Yeah, it is," Evelyn stretches and joins him in looking around at the very elegant Orlesian decorations and furniture. "Vivienne's done an excellent job with it."
"Does she own it?" he asks.
"She does. I've been a regular ever since I first came across it two years ago. She makes excellent coffee, don't you think?"
"She does," he nods in agreement and takes a sip as though to emphasise his answer. Evelyn flips her hair and rests her elbows on the round table, scooting closer to him.
"Maybe we could drop by for an Irish coffee one day?" she suggests with a smile. "When you're not on active guard duty?"
Another one of his crooked smiles tugs at his lips, and Evelyn could almost swear that the colour in his cheeks deepens.
"I...I'd like that," he murmurs.
"Me too," Evelyn smiles, losing herself in the depths of his kind and slightly tired eyes.
Maker, they're so golden.
They spend more than a few moments like that, until the sound of a bell ringing as another customer steps into the cafe rouses them from their trance-like state.
Cullen sits up and clears his throat awkwardly, his eyes flickering towards the glass wall to look outside.
"It's stopped raining," he comments softly.
"It has," Evelyn nods, forcing her gaze away from his face. "We should get back to the hotel. I'm...I'm tired."
"Of course," he smiles, reaching down to pull out his wallet from his pocket.
"It's okay, I'll get it-" Evelyn starts to protest, but he ignores her, placing enough money to cover both their coffees and a generous tip to the proprietor.
"Please," he says. "Allow me."
She falters under his steady gaze, her bones turning into the consistency of marshmallows.
"O-okay. But the next one is on me."
His eyebrows flash up for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised by the fact that there even will be a next one.
"If you insist," he smiles.
They wave their goodbyes to Vivienne, who is busy chatting away in rapid Orlesians on her phone, and get back into their black Mercedes, with Evelyn once again taking the front passenger seat. She smiles to herself and feels a slight jolt in her stomach when she sees the pleased look on Cullen's face as he starts the engine.
The brief drive back to the hotel is spent in silence, with nothing but the low tunes of the radio playing in the background. In the very short time that Evelyn has known Cullen, she has already learned that he is not one for idle chatter. So she rests her head against the window, staring out at the brightly-lit city as they zoom past it, the streetlights luminously reflected on the wet roads in the aftermath of the rain.
"Good, the paparazzi seem to be all gone," Cullen murmurs as he drives towards the lobby. He comes at a halt right outside it, but Evelyn doesn't move even when the valet opens her door and greets her.
"Aren't you coming?" she asks.
"I am," he smiles. "I just need to park the car first. The valets always take too long to bring it back to me when I need it."
"Okay," she murmurs and sets out one foot onto the ground. "Goodnight, then, Cullen."
"Goodnight, Miss Trevelyan."
"Evelyn," she corrects him as she slides out of the car. She catches the flood of colour painting his cheeks before gently shutting the door behind her and making her way into the hotel, a private little smile plastered onto her lips.
"Good evening, Lady Trevelyan," the hotel manager greets her from behind the reception desk. "I trust you've had a good day today?"
"I certainly did, Monsieur Gaspard," she smiles as she summons an elevator. "I most certainly did."