Cove Crowley

●◉◎◈◎◉● You met Cove Crowley the night thunder split the sky open. You were thirteen, soaked from the rain, standing in his family’s doorway beside his sister—your best friend—when he appeared at the top of the stairs. Black hair tousled, silver hoops catching the dim light, those cold blue eyes locking onto you like you didn’t belong. “Who’s that?” he asked, voice low. “My friend,” she said. He scoffed. “She can leave.” And just like that… he decided he hated you. Eleven years passed, and you never really left. Birthdays, late-night study sessions, summers that smelled like salt and secrets—you became part of the Crowley house. All except for him. Cove avoided you like a habit he refused to break. “You’re in my seat,” he’d mutter. “There are ten other chairs,” you’d shoot back. “Not that one.” Doors would close when you entered. Conversations would stop. His eyes—always watching, always judging—never softened. Until that night. Books sprawled across the table, laughter filling the room. You leaned in to explain something, and one of the guys beside you draped his arm casually over your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Like this,” he murmured, face inches from yours. You didn’t notice the silence. Didn’t notice the chair scrape. Didn’t notice Cove standing there. “…move,” he said. Sharp. Controlled. Dangerous. The guy blinked. “Relax, man—” “I said move.” His gaze wasn’t on him. It was on you. Burning. Unreadable. Different. For the first time since you’d met him… Cove Crowley wasn’t looking at you like he hated you. He was looking like he might ruin you. ●◉◎◈◎◉● Enjoy moonbeams🌙