Relax...I Don't Bite
1171 Words
CHAPTER TWO
Elara’s Pov
"No way! No f*****g way! I am not staying with him, Mom!"
I was practically screaming into the phone, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk while the smell of smoke from the dorm hung heavy in the air. My chest was heaving, and I didn't care who was watching me act like a mad woman.
"Elara, please, just listen to me," Mom’s voice came through, sounding exhausted.
"It’s only for a semester. Just until the university clears the building or we find you a proper apartment off-campus. We can't have you sleeping in a gym with three hundred other students."
"I don't care! I'll sleep on the floor! I'll sleep in the library!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "I am not moving in with Caleb. I can't do it, Mom. I won't!"
"He’s already on his way to pick you up. He's your stepbrother Elara, stop being difficult and making him seem like some kind of monster." She sighed, a long, weary sound that made me feel like a petulant child.
"He’ll be there soon. Just... try to be grateful." And the line went dead with that.
I stared at the black screen, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped the phone. My heart was racing, a frantic thrumming against my ribs that made it hard to breathe.
I instinctively went to my contacts, my thumb hovering over my boyfriend’s name.
I needed to hear his soothing nerdy voice…I needed him to tell me he’d come get me, but I stopped. He was so far away, and he was already dealing with enough. If I told him I was moving in with my 'hot professor' stepbrother who treated me like a ghost, it would only cause a fight I didn't have the energy for.
I tucked the phone away and sat down on my single surviving suitcase.
Around me, the chaos of the evacuation was finally settling. Students were disappearing into cars, hugged by parents or picked up by friends. One of my classmates texted me saying she found a spot on a friend's couch. Everyone had a place to go. Everyone except me.
Evening began to crawl across the sky, turning the horizon a bruised purple. My back ached from sitting on the hard pavement, and the fear in my gut was only growing.
Living with him? The man who stared through me in class? The man whose only interaction with me in months was a cold "Happy Birthday" after I’d caught him with another woman? It felt like a refined version of torture.
Just as I was about to stand up and consider walking until my feet bled—since I could sit idle forever, my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: Come out. I’m at the gate.
My heart did a painful somersault. I looked up and saw a sleek, black car idling by the curb. I could see the silhouette of dark hair through the windshield. It was most definitely him.
My body froze. For a moment, I actually considered running in the opposite direction, but where would I go?
Trembling, I stood up and dragged my suitcase toward the car. As I got closer, the window rolled down with a soft hiss.
Caleb didn't even look at me. He glanced at my reflection in the side mirror, his expression a mask of pure indifference, then looked away toward the road.
I didn't wait for him to open the trunk. I threw my bag in the trunk and climbed into the backseat, as far away from him as possible. I wanted to be invisible.
He ignored me as usual as we hit the road. The drive was agonizing. The air in the car was thick with a tension so heavy it felt like it was crushing my lungs.
I kept catching his eyes in the rearview mirror and every time our gazes met, he would instantly shift his focus back to the road, his jaw tight.
After what felt like a lifetime, the car slowed down.
We pulled up to a set of massive iron gates that opened like the mouth of a cave. As I stepped out, a cool breeze hit me, carrying the sudden, sweet scent of strawberries from the manicured gardens.
The house was…I mean the mansion looked more like a modern fortress, glowing with golden lights. There was a waterfall feature in the center of the driveway and a pool that stretched out like a private beach in the distance.
"You're coming in?."
His voice made me jump. He was standing by the car, his face bathed holding that cold gaze again.
"I... I'm sorry for the trouble," I whispered, the words feeling small and pathetic.
He didn't answer, he just turned and walked toward the massive front doors.
I followed him like a shadow, my head spinning. Why was he a professor? With a house like this, he didn't need a paycheck. He didn't need anything.
He led me upstairs, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He stopped at a heavy oak door and pushed it open, finally turning to face me. This was the closest I’d been to him in weeks.
"You’ll stay here," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
I tried to find my voice, but it was stuck in my throat.
"Thank you," I managed to breathe out.
Just as I moved to step past him into the room, my hand accidentally brushed against his.
A jolt—like a live wire—shot through my entire body. I gasped, my eyes flying to his.
For a split second, the ice in his gaze melted. His face softened, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.
"Relax," he murmured, his voice sounding different now—rougher. "I don't bite."
He stepped into the room, pulling me in before closing the door with a soft thud.
I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall, my breath hitching as he stepped closer. He was towering over me now. His scent filled my senses, making my head swim. I closed my eyes, terrified that he could hear the frantic rhythm of my heart.
"Elara."
I opened my eyes. He was staring down at me, a mocking glimmer in his dark eyes as he noted the sheer terror and lust on my face.
He reached out, but instead of touching me, he dropped a silver room key on the shelf next to my head.
"Goodnight, sissy," he drawled, the word dripping with a sarcasm that cut deeper than a knife.
He turned on his heel and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stayed pinned to the wall, breathless, his scent lingering in the air like a taunt. I gripped my cooling skin, tears of pure embarrassment stinging my eyes, from the fact he called me sissy!.
‘What is wrong with me?’ I screamed internally.
‘He’s your stepbrother’
‘ He hates you’
‘Why are you reacting like this?’
- Writer
