Chapter Nine: The Thing Between Us
1102 Words
After the almost kiss, everything became weird.
Not bad weird.
Worse.
The kind of weird where every glance suddenly meant something.
The kind where silence felt louder than actual conversations.
The kind where my heartbeat betrayed me every five seconds.
Which was deeply embarrassing.
For two entire days, Ethan acted completely normal.
And by normal, I meant emotionally confusing.
He still teased me.
Still smirked whenever I got dramatic.
Still looked at me too long sometimes before pretending he didn’t.
But now there was tension underneath everything.
Dangerous tension.
The kind that sat quietly between us waiting to explode.
And honestly?
I was losing my mind a little.
“You’re burning the pancakes,” Ethan said calmly from the kitchen island.
I gasped and turned too late.
Smoke rose dramatically from the pan.
“Oh my God.”
“You’re a threat to society.”
“I’m trying to cook for you!”
“You’re trying to poison me.”
I pointed the spatula at him accusingly. “Your attitude is ugly.”
“My face balances it out.”
I stared at him.
Then sighed dramatically.
“The annoying thing is that you’re right.”
That earned one of those rare real laughs again.
Warm.
Low.
Beautiful.
The sound curled through my chest unexpectedly.
God.
I was in serious trouble.
The penthouse kitchen smelled like coffee, burnt pancakes, and cinnamon while snow fell softly outside the windows.
Morning sunlight spilled across the marble counters, catching against Ethan’s dark hair.
Everything about this moment felt strangely domestic.
Comfortable.
Like we’d known each other longer than a few weeks.
And maybe that was the dangerous part.
I was getting attached.
Deeply attached.
Ethan watched me quietly while I made another batch of pancakes.
“You’re humming,” he observed.
I froze.
“I literally am not.”
“You literally are.”
“That’s humiliating.”
“It’s concerning.”
I rolled my eyes while trying to ignore the smile pulling at my mouth.
For someone who claimed to hate people, Ethan noticed everything about me.
Every habit.
Every expression.
Every mood shift.
And the terrifying thing?
I was starting to notice everything about him too.
The way his voice softened whenever he got tired.
The way he stared at the skyline whenever he felt trapped inside his thoughts.
The way sadness slipped into his eyes when he thought nobody was looking.
I placed a plate in front of him proudly.
“There.”
Ethan examined the pancakes suspiciously.
“Are these safe?”
“Emotionally? No.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Then he took a bite.
I waited dramatically.
“Well?”
“They’re terrible.”
I looked offended instantly.
“You’re evil.”
“But edible.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
Because the scary thing was—
He sounded almost certain.
Before I could respond, Ethan’s phone buzzed loudly across the counter.
His expression darkened immediately after reading the screen.
“What?” I asked carefully.
“Nothing.”
Lie.
A very obvious lie.
I crossed my arms. “That face says otherwise.”
“It’s business.”
“You hate business calls.”
“I hate most things.”
“That’s fair.”
But something still felt wrong.
The warmth from earlier faded slightly while Ethan stared down at the phone again.
Tension returned to his shoulders.
That familiar sadness creeping back in.
Without thinking, I walked closer.
“Hey.”
His eyes lifted slowly to mine.
“You okay?”
The question hung softly between us.
And for one second—
Just one—
Ethan looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like carrying invisible weight every single day.
Then the walls returned instantly.
“I’m fine.”
I sighed quietly.
“You know,” I muttered, “for a smart person, you’re terrible at pretending.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“You’re annoying.”
“You like me annoying.”
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
His gaze held mine steadily now.
Focused.
Warm.
And suddenly my pulse started acting stupid again.
Because Ethan wasn’t looking at me sarcastically anymore.
He was looking at me like I mattered.
Like my presence changed the atmosphere around him.
The realization sent heat rushing through me instantly.
Then softly—
“You make this place feel less empty.”
My breath caught.
The honesty in his voice nearly destroyed me emotionally.
Because Ethan Blackwood almost never said what he truly felt.
But when he did—
God.
It mattered.
I stepped closer before I could stop myself.
Close enough to see the tiny tension in his jaw.
Close enough that the air between us felt warmer.
“You don’t have to do everything alone,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine carefully.
Like he was trying to understand how someone could care this much already.
And honestly?
I didn’t fully understand either.
Maybe lonely people recognized each other too quickly.
Maybe broken hearts naturally moved toward warmth.
Or maybe—
Maybe I was already falling for him.
The thought terrified me.
Because Ethan still looked at love like it was something dangerous.
Something temporary.
Something he didn’t deserve anymore.
And yet—
Every time he looked at me lately, there was softness there now.
Small.
Hidden.
But real.
My eyes dropped briefly toward his mouth before I could stop myself.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because his breathing changed slightly.
The tension between us tightened immediately.
Neither of us moved.
The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet.
Too small.
And for one dangerous second—
I thought maybe this time he wouldn’t pull away.
Then Ethan whispered my name softly.
“Lily.”
The way he said it—
Careful.
Almost fragile.
Like I’d become something important.
A knock suddenly echoed through the penthouse.
We both froze instantly.
Reality crashing back too fast.
Ethan leaned back first, frustration flashing briefly across his face.
I stepped away quickly, heart racing.
The front doors opened moments later.
Zara walked in carrying shopping bags before stopping abruptly.
Her eyes moved between us immediately.
Then narrowed knowingly.
“Oh,” she said slowly.
Heat rushed straight into my face.
Ethan looked deeply unimpressed.
“You’re smiling,” Zara told him suspiciously.
“I am not.”
“You literally are.”
“I hate this family.”
I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.
And for the first time since entering this penthouse weeks ago—
Ethan laughed with me openly.
Fully.
Like happiness had finally found him again for a moment.
- Writer
