CHAPTER FIVE
1218 Words
Ava hadn’t wanted to come. She really, truly hadn’t.
Her Friday night plans had involved pajamas, Netflix reruns, and maybe pretending to start her essay that was already a week overdue. Not loud music, not sticky floors, and definitely not frat boys sloshing beer onto her shoes.
But Maya had begged, pleaded, even threatened to drag her by the wrist. “You’ve been hiding in this dorm like a Victorian ghost bride,” she’d said, hands on her glitter-dusted hips. “One party won’t kill you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even like it.”
"I met Ethan in the last one I went Maya, I don't even want to see his face" Ava muttered to her friend.
"You don't have a choice now Ava, you're stuck with him for midterm project" she said with a shrug, and she looked at her friend, she was absolutely right, no matter where she goes it's like Ethan is her monitoring spirit, he's always every where she goes.
Now, standing in the middle of the overcrowded house, Ava wasn’t convinced she’d survive the night.
Music thumped through the walls, bass rattling her bones. The living room had transformed into a sea of bodies, swaying and grinding beneath flashing strobe lights. Someone spilled something sticky down her arm as they bumped past, muttering a half-hearted apology before disappearing back into the crowd.
Ava tugged at the hem of her black dress. She wasn’t sure why she’d even put it on. Maybe to shut Maya up. Maybe to prove to herself, to no one that she wasn’t always the bookish, quiet one in the corner.
She was just about to text Maya a we’re leaving in twenty minutes, no negotiations when her stomach dropped.
Because across the room, leaning against the wall with a beer in hand and that smug, infuriatingly perfect grin, was Ethan Cole.
Of course.
Her entire body went rigid. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that the universe wasn’t mocking her, that it was just coincidence. But no he had already spotted her. His eyes locked on hers like a magnet, sharp and unrelenting, and his smile spread slow, like he’d been expecting her all along.
Ava’s pulse spiked. No. Nope. Not tonight.
“Don’t look now,” Maya whispered at her side, eyes widening. “But I swear that’s.....”
“It’s him,” Ava hissed.
“Oh my God,” Maya gasped, practically vibrating. “He’s staring at you. Ava, he’s literally undressing you with his eyes right now.”
Ava rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “He stares at everyone like that.”
“Not like that,” Maya muttered, lips twitching.
Ava turned sharply toward the kitchen, desperate for a drink, for air, for distance. But she could feel it the weight of his gaze following her through the crowd, tracking her like a hunter.
The kitchen was a little quieter, though still buzzing with people playing beer pong, mixing cheap vodka with flat soda, shouting over one another. Ava poured herself something that tasted like watered-down regret, gripping the cup tight.
And then of course his voice slid against her skin like silk.
“Didn’t think this was your scene.”
She froze, knuckles whitening around the cup, before slowly turning.
There he was. Ethan. Leaning against the counter like he owned the place, tall and relaxed, one eyebrow arched, a smirk curving his mouth. He was in black jeans and a fitted shirt that clung just enough to his shoulders, his hair messily perfect.
And he was too close.
“It’s not,” she snapped, taking a sip of the disgusting drink anyway just to busy her mouth.
He chuckled, low and easy, his eyes flicking over her dress in a way that made her feel both exposed and electric. “Then why are you here, princess?”
“Because,” she muttered, “some of us actually have friends.”
His smirk widened, infuriatingly amused. “So that’s what we’re calling her dragging you out of your cave.”
Ava glared, ready to bite back, but he leaned in, close enough that she caught his cologne sharp, intoxicating, unfair.
“You look good tonight.”
Her breath caught. Three words, harmless on their own. But the way he said them low, deliberate, sincere wasn’t part of the game. And that was worse. So much worse.
“Go flirt with someone else,” she managed, turning away.
But Ethan just laughed softly. “Why would I waste my time when you’re standing right here?”
Before she could respond, someone slid up beside her a guy she vaguely recognized from one of her classes. Tall, broad, smiling way too brightly.
“Hey,” the guy said, glancing between them. “Ava, right? You in Dr. Martin’s history lecture?”
“Uh.....yeah.” She forced a polite smile, grateful for the interruption.
The guy grinned wider. “I thought so. You’re always scribbling notes like your life depends on it. Anyway, you wanna dance?”
Before Ava could even answer, Ethan spoke.
“She’s busy.”
Her head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”
Ethan’s jaw was tight, his casual act slipping. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her lower back in a way that felt more like a claim than a touch. “She doesn’t want to dance with you.”
The other guy’s brows shot up. “Dude, chill. I was just asking.....”
“I said,” Ethan growled, eyes cold, “she’s busy.”
Ava’s heart thudded, heat rushing to her face. He was jealous.
The guy held up his hands, muttering something about not wanting drama before backing off.
The second he was gone, Ava spun on Ethan. “What the hell was that?”
He smirked again, but there was a dangerous edge to it now. “What? Didn’t like him.”
“You don’t get to decide who I talk to!” she snapped, shoving at his chest.
He didn’t move. Instead, he stepped in closer, caging her against the counter, his voice dropping to a husky whisper only she could hear.
“Maybe not. But you don’t get to look at me like you do and then pretend you don’t want me, Ava.”
Her stomach flipped violently. “I don’t....”
“Yes, you do,” he cut in, eyes blazing. “I can feel it every time you’re near me. You hate me, you fight me, but you want me. And it’s driving you insane.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Because damn it, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
His hand brushed against hers again, deliberate this time. His touch was fire.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
She should’ve said no. She wanted to say no. But somehow she found herself pulled into the living room, the music pulsing through her veins as Ethan’s body pressed close to hers, his hands hovering dangerously at her waist.
Every movement sent sparks racing up her skin. Every brush of his chest against her back made her breath hitch.
It wasn’t just dancing. It was a war. A game. A slow, burning collision of want and restraint.
And in that moment, Ava wasn’t sure she wanted to win.
- Writer
