3
717 Words
Beep... beep... beep...
The red fuzzy clock on my nightstand glared at me in angry as the red numbers read: 2:17 AM.
I flopped onto my back with a dramatic sigh like a tired cow, my stomach growling loud enough to rival a bear's. Stupid brothers. Stupid new house. Stupid me for being too nervous to eat at dinner.
My tiny green vest top slipped off one shoulder as I sat up, the cool air making me shiver. The pink shorts I'd worn to bed suddenly felt ridiculously short as I swung my legs over the side. Whatever. It's not like anyone's awake to see me like this, this was my home first anyway.
I tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear against the cool wood. Silence. Perfect sweet silence.
The hallway was bathed in moonlight, its shadow stretching long and eerie across the Japanese wooden tiled floor. My bare feet made no sound as I crept downstairs, my wild frizzy curls bouncing with each step.
Kitchen. Food. Victory that was my number one goal
I was so focused on my mission that I didn't notice the light was already on until it was too late.
The silver fridge door swung open with a dramatic loud whoosh—
"If you're looking for the chocolate pudding, Knox ate it all."
"GYAHHH!"
I literally jumped a foot in the air, my glasses sliding down my nose as I spun around—
And there he stood.
Nikolai.
Shirtless abs so many abs oh my god v line v line v line.
Dangerously shirtless.
Moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting every sculpted ridge of his abs, every scar that marred his perfect skin. His grey sweatpants hung just low enough to show the V-line that made my brain short-circuit. His dark straight hair was messy like he'd been running his hands through it, and his usual scowl was firmly in place.
"Y-You—!" I stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of my state of undress. My face burned hotter than a summer sidewalk. "W-Why are you—? At this hour—? Shirtless?!"
He raised one perfect eyebrow, taking a slow sip from his water bottle. The way his throat moved when he swallowed should be illegal not that i'm looking you are not me.
"I live here," he deadpanned. "And you're in my way."
"I-I'm not in your—!" I squeaked, scrambling back only to bump into the counter. Ow.
Nikolai's eyes those stupidly beautiful icy blue eyes dragged over me from head to toe. From my messy hair to my bare legs, lingering just a second too long on the strip of skin where my top had slipped down.
"Cute," he muttered.
"W-WHAT?!"
"Your shorts. They're... cute." He said it like he was commenting on the weather, not like he'd just set my entire nervous system on a fire blaze.
I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring. "I didn't ask for your opinion!"
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Didn't stop you from turning redder than your shorts."
"I'M NOT—! That's just—! UGH they are pink!" I spun back to the fridge, yanking it open so hard the bottles rattled.
Nikolai leaned against the counter beside me, his bare arm brushing against mine. The contact sent electric sparks shooting up my arm. Why was he so WARM?!
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm FINE," I lied, grabbing the first thing my hand touched—a yogurt cup. Strawberry. Gross.
Above us, a loud THUD shook the ceiling, followed by raucous laughter. Knox and Kit, obviously.
Nikolai sighed, the sound somehow both annoyed and fond. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Something about the way he said it—the tiny hint of exasperated affection—made me giggle before I could stop myself.
For half a second, I swear I saw his lips twitch. Then—
"Eat your snack and go to bed, Junie."
He pushed off the counter, walking away with that stupid, perfect posture of his. But not before I caught him glance back one more time.
Wait.
Did he just—?
No.
Did he?
I stood frozen in the kitchen, strawberry yogurt forgotten in my hand, my heart pounding like a drum solo.
Damn him.
Damn this house.
Damn these stupid pink shorts.
- Writer
