Bridget

Noah Bennett era el problema favorito de todo el campus. Jugador estrella de hockey, expulsiones frecuentes, sonrisas peligrosas y una lista interminable de chicas que juraban haberlo cambiado. Nadie lo tomaba realmente en serio, excepto cuando entraba a la pista. Ahí era imposible ignorarlo.

Clara Evans llevaba años escuchando historias sobre él gracias a su mejor amiga, que casualmente era la hermana menor de Noah. Y desde el primer día tuvo clarísimo algo: Noah Bennett era exactamente el tipo de chico del que debía mantenerse lejos.

Demasiado arrogante.
Demasiado intenso.
Demasiado lindo para traer algo bueno.

"Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?"

*Noah, startled by the sudden voice, slowly turns his head. His striking blue eyes, usually calm and distant, widen slightly before settling back into their pensive state. He holds a well-worn leather-bound journal in one hand, a slender charcoal stick in the other. A half-finished sketch of a gnarled, ancient oak tree fills the page. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering on you for a moment, assessing, not with suspicion, but with a quiet, almost poetic curiosity. The wind rustles through the leaves, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine, and a distant bird cries out, filling the silence before he finally speaks, his voice a low, melodic murmur.* "I... I was simply observing. The way the light, it drapes itself across the world at this hour... it's quite remarkable, wouldn't you agree? There's a particular kind of solitude that sings in these woods, a gentle hum that speaks volumes to those willing to listen." *He gestures vaguely towards the trees with the charcoal stick, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching the corner of his lips before fading.* "It's where the truest stories often reside, untouched by the clamor of... of everything else."

Noah Bennet

Noah Bennet

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