ChapterThree
1274 Words
ELARA'S POV
I set the ceramic mug down on the kitchen counter, wrapping both hands around the hot surface to stop my fingers from shaking.
The boiling liquid burned my palms through the thick glass, but I welcomed the painful physical sensation because it kept my mind grounded.
He told me he would prove Declan wrong, and then he left me standing on the patio alone.
Sienna dropped her heavy canvas backpack onto one of the wooden barstools, groaning loudly as she pressed the heels of her hands against her temples.
She wore an oversized sweatshirt and sunglasses, despite being inside the dimly lit house.
"I am never drinking cheap campus alcohol again," Sienna complained, leaning her elbows onto the granite counter. "My head is pounding, and my stomach is completely rejecting my existence. Please tell me you made extra coffee."
"There is a full pot left," I answered, sliding a clean mug across the counter toward her.
"You are a lifesaver," she mumbled, pouring the dark liquid and taking a desperate sip.
Before I could respond, the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway opened and shut.
Weighty footsteps moved across the hardwood floor, growing louder as they approached the kitchen.
My heart started racing immediately. I picked up my mug and stared directly at the black liquid inside, refusing to look up.
Rowan walked into the kitchen wearing grey sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. He walked directly past me, not acknowledging my presence, and pulled the refrigerator door open.
He grabbed a plastic water bottle, twisted the cap off, and drank half of it in one continuous motion.
The silent treatment.
A classic, predictable manipulation tactic.
My father used to ignore me for weeks until I broke down and begged for his approval. Rowan thinks this sudden withdrawal will make me desperate for his attention.
"Did you finish your paper for economics?" Sienna asked, looking at her brother over the rim of her mug.
"I emailed it to the professor at three in the morning," Rowan replied, leaning his lower back against the refrigerator door and crossing his arms over his chest.
He looked exclusively at Sienna. "I need you to move your car out of the driveway. You're blocking me in, and I have a meeting on campus in twenty minutes."
"I'll move it right now," Sienna agreed, grabbing her backpack and her car keys from the island.
She looked at me and offered a weak smile. "I have back-to-back classes today, Elara. I will see you around four o'clock. Text me if you need anything."
"I will," I said, offering a short nod.
Sienna walked out the front door, pulling it shut behind her. The lock clicked, plunging the house into complete silence.
I picked up my mug and took a slow drink, maintaining my focus on the blank kitchen wall opposite me. My heartbeat accelerated in the quiet room. I waited for him to move, to speak, or to at least leave.
I refused to be the first person to break the silence.
Rowan pushed off the refrigerator and walked toward the kitchen island. He stopped directly across from me, placing his hands flat on the granite surface.
"You're standing in my house drinking my sister's coffee, and you don't even say good morning," Rowan stated.
I set the mug down and looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "You walked into the room and completely ignored me. I am matching your exact level of effort."
"I had a conversation with my sister," he countered, tilting his head slightly to the side.
"You used silence to establish dominance," I corrected him, keeping my posture entirely rigid.
"You flood someone with intense attention, completely back away the next morning, and wait for them to chase you to figure out what went wrong. It is a psychological tactic designed to create dependency."
Rowan stared at me silently and he did not move away. The silence between us was awkward. A muscle in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes dropping to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
‘He is surprised. He expected me to act confused or hurt by his coldness. He did not expect me to analyze his behavior and call it out to his face.’
"You analyze everything," Rowan said, stepping around the edge of the kitchen island and walking into my space.
"I observe things," I replied, forcing my feet to remain firmly planted on the floor as he approached.
Rowan stopped less than a foot away from me. He reached out and placed his hand flat on the counter beside my hip, caging me against the edge of the island.
The sudden proximity caused my breath to hitch in surprise.
"Why are you so guarded, Elara?" he asked in a raspy tone. "You map out every single interaction like it's a chess match. Who taught you to do that?"
"My parents," I answered honestly. "They taught me that affection always comes with a price tag. So I learned how to recognize a transaction."
Rowan looked down at my hands, noticing my folded fists, and then looked back up at my face.
He shifted his body closer, his chest brushed lightly against my shoulder. The contact sent a light jolt of heat directly through my skin.
"What makes you think I want a transaction?" Rowan questioned, lifting his free hand and brushing his knuckles against my jawline.
His skin was rough and calloused. The physical contact made my entire body freeze. I wanted to push him away, but my hands remained locked at my sides.
‘This is exactly what Declan warned him he couldn't do. He is trying to break my defenses by pretending to care about my past.’
"Because you made a deal with Declan Vance last night," I stated, staring directly into his eyes. "You took his money, Rowan. I saw you take the cash on the patio."
Rowan's hand stopped moving against my jaw. He dropped his arm, stepping back a fraction of an inch. His expression closed off entirely, reverting back to the cold, nonchalant mask he wore when he first entered the kitchen.
"You don't know what you saw," Rowan told me, and from his voice I could tell he was pissed.
"I know exactly what I saw," I shot back, grabbing my empty coffee mug and stepping around him to reach the sink. "You are playing a game, and I am not participating."
I turned the metal faucet on, letting the cold water run over my hands to cool my heated skin.
Rowan walked up behind me, stepping so close his chest pressed firmly against my back and I almost stopped breathing. He reached his arms around my waist, placing his hands on the edge of the sink on either side of me.
"It wasn't a game," Rowan whispered directly into my ear. "Declan owed me money from a poker match three weeks ago. He simply paid his debt."
I turned my head slightly, my cheek brushing against his jaw. "You're lying."
"Prove it," he challenged, turning his head so his lips hovered a millimeter away from mine.
Before I could answer, a cell phone vibrated violently against the granite counter behind us.
Rowan stepped back instantly, reaching for the phone resting near my coffee mug. The sudden loss of his body heat left me shivering. I turned around and looked down at the illuminated screen facing upward on the counter.
A text message from Declan Vance sat clearly on the lock screen.
‘I need proof of the agreement by Friday. Don't disappoint me, Hale.’
- Writer
