Dance With Secret

5

Chapter Five - My Night Wasn’t Supposed to Be This Extra

Ava

I finally pull myself together when I hear my front door click shut as Ethan dips. What in the actual hell just went down? Why was he touching me and laying on that smooth-talker vibe? Is this dude playing 4D chess or what? If this is a preview of the weekend, I’m out.

The worst part? I’m lowkey into it. I hate my hormones for betraying me like this. I groan, feelin’ like a hot mess. I need to get laid, stat—it’s been way too long. Like, a year, no cap. I’m tellin’ myself Ethan’s gettin’ to me only ‘cause I’m in a dry spell. I’m trash at picking up guys. Tried a dating app once, and the dude was a straight-up creep—had to yeet him outta my crib. I’m more about relationships, not hookups. Casual Isn't my brand.

Great, now Ethan’s got me thinkin’ about s*x. I can’t stand him—okay, “hate” might be extra, but I’m definitely not his fan. I need a cold shower to chill these vibes. I drag my thirsty self to the bathroom, strip down, and crank the shower to cold—not Arctic, but brisk. I step in, squealin’ as the water hits, but after a sec, it’s cooling the heat between my thighs. I lean against the wall, eyes closed, tryna zen out. If Ethan keeps this flirty nonsense up tomorrow, I’m screwed. I’m banking on this being a one-off, him just messin’ with me ‘cause I clapped back.

Stop obsessing over him! He shouldn’t have this much real estate in my brain. The shower isn't cutting it after five minutes, so I bail. Ethan ruined my whole night by showing up. He better not make this a habit, or we’re gonna have words. It’s too early to crash, but if I did, I’d be up at 3 a.m., starin’ at the ceiling. No thanks.

I shiver, wrapping a towel around me, and head to my room to throw on my PJs. Another glass of wine’s callin’ my name. I hit the kitchen, pour a fat one, and kill all the lights. I love chillin’ in the dark, especially with a movie—rom-coms only, ‘cause horror’s a hard pass. I flop on the couch with my wine, some chocolate, and a classic rom-com. It’s my escape from this chaos.

My phone buzzes on the table. Probably one of my girls. I grab it, but it’s a text from a random number, not in my contacts.

Are you still mad at me?

Bet it’s a wrong number. I text back: Who’s this? Think you got the wrong digits.

No, I got the right one. It’s Ethan.

Oh, he’s using his personal phone. I’ve got his work number saved. This man’s relentless.

Yup, still pissed.

Can he not leave me alone? Hasn’t he done enough damage today?

I’m sure you’ll get over it.

I roll my eyes and chuck my phone. I’m dealin’ with him tomorrow and all weekend—he’s not stealin’ the rest of my night. I sip my wine, munch on cold pizza (still a vibe), and try focusing on my movie. But ten minutes later, my phone’s ringing. I don’t even need to check—it’s Ethan. I flip it over, and yup, it’s him. I reject the call, but he hits me back immediately. Why’s this man tryna test my last nerve? I groan and pick up.

“What?” I snap.

“I don’t like being ignored, Miss Carter,” he growls, voice all bossy.

“And I don’t like being harassed on my own time, so I guess we’re both salty tonight,” I fire back, matching his energy.

I’m playin’ with fire, snappin’ at my boss, but I’m over it. His chuckle catches me off guard—he was pissed two seconds ago.

“You’re kinda hot when you’re mad,” he says, voice smooth like he’s dropping a thirst trap.

I freeze. Did he just call me hot? Nah, I’m hearing things. No way he said that.

“W-what’d you just say?” I stammer, cheeks burning like I’m in a sauna.

“You heard me,” he says, and I can feel the smirk through the phone.

“What’s your deal, Ethan? Why are you acting like this? You’ve never even glanced at me like that in a whole year,” I say, tryna sound bold but feeling shook.

“How am I actin’?” he asks, all sweet like he’s innocent.

He’s not pulling this cute act after all that. Is he really gonna make me spell it out? Typical.

“You know exactly what you’re doin’,” I say, voice wavering.

I hate how timid I sound. I’m not shy—awkward, sure, but I don’t let people steamroll me outside work. I’ve had enough of that growin’ up and in school. Work’s different; I play nice to keep my job, but this? This is my turf.

“Nah, clue me in,” he teases, pushin’ me.

“How ‘bout I just hang up?” I snap, annoyance takin’ over.

“Go for it, but I’ll call back. Or better yet, I know your address. I’ll pull up, and we can hash this out face-to-face. Your call, princess,” he says, that firm boss tone hittin’ hard.

Dude’s got this dominant vibe, like he’s running a boardroom 24/7. Guess that’s how you stack billions—not by being a pushover.

“God, you’re this extra even off the clock?” I whine, rolling my eyes.

“Yup. Now spill—what am I doin’ to you?” he demands.

I don’t even know how to say it without cringing. I take a deep breath, tryna chill. I know he’s not letting this go ‘til I give him what he wants.

“You’re flirting with me—callin’ me princess and hot. Why? I’ve been workin’ for you over a year, and you’ve never talked to me like this,” I blurt, rushin’ the words out like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.

He lets out a throaty groan. “What can I say? Today, I saw sides of you I didn’t know were there. Thought you were all quiet and obedient. Turns out, you’re not.”

I don’t hit back right away. I chug some wine, needin’ liquid courage. “Didn’t you say you like people who listen and do what you say? Ain’t that a contradiction?”

If he’s into control, why’s my sass flippin’ his switch? He’s gotta be drunk or somethin’.

“I do, but your fire’s doin’ somethin’ to me. Might be ‘cause I’m itchin’ to tame it and turn you into a good girl,” he rasps, voice all low and dangerous.

Thank God I’m not sippin’ wine, ‘cause I’d be chokin’. He’s cappin’, right? No way I’m turning him on. That heat’s back between my thighs, and my breath’s catching. Nope, I’m not doing this. I’m speechless, and there’s only one move left.

I hang up and power off my phone. If he shows up, I’m ghostin’ him at the door. I can’t handle this, and work’s gonna be a whole vibe tomorrow. How am I supposed to face him after this? My

night was supposed to be pizza, wine, and rom-coms—not whatever this fever dream is!