Chapter3
1290 Words
Chapter 3
If you're done ogling at me,move out of my way.
~Ethan~
I was an early riser... Or maybe that was the wrong word to use. I had insomnia, so sleeping was a problem.
Which explained why I was in the kitchen by 4 a.m., fully dressed in my usual outfit a suit brewing coffee.
I walked into the sitting room, glancing at the windows. It was already dawn. The sky was glowing red, a warning of the day ahead.
Soon enough, Alex and his sister would be awake.
Speaking of "his sister"... I took a sip of my coffee before walking toward the window, staring down at the quiet city, save for a few cars and early risers moving like ghosts through the streets.
I had a business meeting in Bellagio, which explained why I was in Las Vegas.
I was supposed to be finishing up by the weekend and returning to the USA on Monday. I should've been thinking about work, logistics, and my schedule.
But I wasn't.
No, I was thinking about what I'd come back to my friend bringing her sister to my house
Alex always had a streak of stubbornness in him since I met him.but it never flared into anything unmanageable.
Until he lost his parents.
I had to give Zarah credit for pulling Alex and herself out of their grief after their parents died.
But Zarah didn’t stop there.
She had a way of encouraging the wild, reckless side of my friend, feeding it like gasoline to a flame.
And the fact that Zarah hated me? Well, that was just a bonus. I overheard her once telling Alex that I always looked like I had a stick up my ass.
She’d go out of her way to ignore me or start an argument anything to get under my skin.
And damn if it didn’t work.
I didn’t even realize how long I’d been standing there, staring out at nothing, my coffee growing cold. A movement in the house snapped me back.
My body tensed, instinctively alert.
The house was big enough for all of us to avoid each other, but I could sense her. Zarah. I wasn’t even looking, but I could feel her presence, the heat of her gaze boring into my back.
Closer, closer, until the room fell into that particular kind of silence that only she could create.
I didn’t turn around.
She didn’t speak. She just moved past me, toward the fireplace, her movements slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world. I eventually turned and pinned her with a cool, assessing look.
Her Honey blonde hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, strands escaping to frame her face. She closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the fire, her lashes dark against her pale skin.
Those eyes, when they opened, were sharp and cunning like a fox’s.
I moved to the island that separated the kitchen from the dining area, annoyed at myself for noticing things about her I had no business noticing.
The quiet between us was thick, tense.
She stood, her movements unhurried, and walked toward me. Our eyes met green on black before she quickly glanced away. My gaze followed her, against my better judgment, lingering on the way her sleep shirt clung to her body, the curve of her legs in those damn shorts that barely reached mid-thigh.
She looked good in the morning, like she always did. Too perfect.
“If you’re done ogling me, move out of my way,” she said, her voice flat, eyes narrowed in a scowl.
I raised the mug to my mouth, taking a sip of bitter, cold coffee, eyes still on her. “This is my house,” I replied, matching her tone. “I can’t be in your way.”
Her scowl deepened, her eyes flashing with something sharper than anger. For anyone else, the look she gave would have been enough to send them running. But not me.
She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as if daring me to back down. I didn’t. She wasn’t tall enough to reach my height not even on her best day but she didn’t need height to hold her ground.
Fists clenched, lips flattened into a hard line, her whole body practically vibrated with the effort it took not to lash out. It didn’t take much to rile her up, especially if it was coming from me.
She let out a sharp huff, her gaze slicing away from mine as she moved around the island, heading for the kitchen. I didn’t turn to follow, but I knew exactly what she was doing.
She looked good in the morning, like she always did.
Too good.
“If you’re done ogling me, move out of my way,” she said, her voice flat, eyes narrowed in a scowl.
I raised the mug to my mouth, taking a sip of bitter, cold coffee, eyes still on her. “This is my house,” I replied, matching her tone. “I can’t be in your way.”
Her scowl deepened, her eyes flashing with something sharper than anger. For anyone else, the look she gave would have been enough to send them running. But not me.
She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as if daring me to back down. I didn’t.
She wasn’t tall enough to reach my height not even on her best day but she didn’t need height to hold her ground.
Fists clenched, lips flattened into a hard line, her whole body practically vibrated with the effort it took not to lash out. It didn’t take much to rile her up, especially if it was coming from me.
She let out a sharp huff, her gaze slicing away from mine as she moved around the island, heading for the kitchen. I didn’t turn to follow, but I knew exactly what she was doing.
Zarah Rogriduez wasn’t a morning person without her coffee. In that way, at least, we were alike.
My friend, Alex, appeared a moment later, his chestnut hair a wild mess, his eyes heavy with sleep.
I knew both siblings slept in the same room and on the same bed. Leaving me wondering why Zarah looked like *that* and Alex like this.
He mumbled a groggy, “Morning,” as he brushed past me and stood next to Zarah, who wordlessly handed her a mug.
Alex smiled, leaning into Zarah’s shoulder as he took a sip. The sight nearly made me roll my eyes.
Alex turned to me, noticing that I hadn’t responded to his greeting. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he just stared at me for a bit too long.
“We’re leaving today,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
My stomach twisted into a knot at his words. Zarah didn’t even spare me a glance.
I checked my watch, taking a long stride toward the couch, my mind already racing. “Stay,” I said, my tone flat, almost indifferent.
Alex’s eyes widened in surprise, his sleepy expression disappearing as he processed what I’d said.
“I’ll be leaving by the weekend,” I added, grabbing my suitcase.
I glanced at Zarah, just long enough to catch her tense posture, before I turned back to Alex. He looked like he was caught between confusion and mild guilt, but Zarah? Zarah’s expression didn’t waver.
If anything, she seemed more irritated.
Without another word, I headed for the door, suitcase in hand. I didn’t trust Zarah.
Not even a little bit.
And I sure as Hell wasn’t
about to leave them here without keeping tabs on them.
I wasn’t that foolish.
- Writer
