Chapter Two
1623 Words
Ava's POV
I didn’t sleep.
Not even for a second.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The way his hand had wrapped around my wrist like it belonged there. The way his voice had dropped, low and steady, when he told me to look at him.
And I did.
God, I did.
I sat up in bed, dragging my fingers through my hair as the early morning light crept through my curtains. My room still felt unfamiliar, like I didn’t belong in it yet. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe this whole house wasn’t mine to settle into.
Because he was here.
Ethan.
Just thinking his name made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t understand. Or maybe I did understand, and I just didn’t want to admit it.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood up, pacing slowly. I needed to get a grip. This was stupid. He was my stepbrother. That alone should have been enough to shut down whatever this… thing was.
But it wasn’t.
And that scared me more than anything.
A soft knock on my door made me freeze.
“Are you awake?”
His voice.
Low. Calm. Too calm.
My heartbeat picked up instantly. “Yeah,” I answered, trying to sound normal. “I’m awake.”
The door opened before I could say anything else.
He stepped in like he owned the place, like he owned the air I was breathing. He was dressed simply, dark shirt, jeans, hair slightly messy like he had just woken up. But somehow, he still looked… perfect.
It was annoying.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
Watching me too closely.
“I wasn’t hungry,” I replied.
That was a lie. My stomach had been in knots all night.
His gaze lingered on my face, then slowly dropped, taking in my oversized shirt, my bare legs. I crossed my arms instantly, heat creeping up my neck.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked quietly.
“Like… that,” I snapped, even though I couldn’t explain it.
His lips twitched, almost like he was amused.
“I’m just looking at you.”
“No, you’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where it feels like you’re…” I stopped myself.
“Like I’m what?” he pressed, pushing off the door and stepping closer.
I took a step back immediately.
“Nothing. Forget it.”
But he didn’t stop.
He kept walking until I had no choice but to keep backing up, until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed and I sat down without meaning to.
Now he was standing right in front of me.
Too close.
Way too close.
“Say it,” he said softly.
My throat went dry. “You’re making it weird.”
“I’m making it weird?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “Not you, who can’t even look at me without acting like something’s wrong?”
“There is something wrong,” I said quickly. “This whole situation is wrong.”
His expression shifted, just for a second.
Then he leaned down slightly, resting his hands on either side of me on the bed, trapping me there without actually touching me.
“Then why didn’t you pull away last night?”
My breath caught.
“I… I did,” I whispered.
“Not immediately.”
I hated that he was right.
“I was surprised,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
He studied my face, like he was searching for something.
“Liar.”
The word wasn’t harsh. It was quiet. Certain.
My chest tightened. “I’m not lying.”
“You are,” he said simply. “And you’re bad at it.”
I pushed against his chest, trying to create some space between us. “Can you just… move?”
He didn’t.
Not right away.
For a moment, he just looked at me, his eyes darker than before, like something was shifting inside him.
Then slowly, he straightened up and stepped back.
The air felt different instantly. Lighter. But also colder.
I stood up quickly, brushing past him. “I need to go downstairs.”
“Running away again?”
I stopped.
“I’m not running.”
“You always say that.”
I turned to face him, frustration bubbling up. “What do you want from me?”
The question came out sharper than I intended.
But I didn’t take it back.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he just watched me.
Then he said something that made my stomach drop.
“I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel it.”
My heart started pounding again.
“Feel what?” I asked, even though I knew.
He stepped closer again, slower this time.
“This.”
His hand lifted slightly, hovering near my arm but not touching.
The space between us felt charged, like something invisible was pulling us together.
I swallowed hard. “There is no ‘this.’ You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
Another lie.
And we both knew it.
He leaned in just a little, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin.
“Then look me in the eyes and say it again.”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
But that second was enough.
His lips curved faintly. “Exactly.”
“I hate you,” I said quickly, even though it didn’t sound convincing.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You don’t even believe that.”
I turned away from him, my hands shaking slightly. “Just leave me alone, Ethan.”
Silence filled the room.
For a moment, I thought he would argue again.
Push me.
Corner me.
But he didn’t.
Instead, I heard his footsteps move toward the door.
“Fine,” he said.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
But then he added, quietly,
“Keep lying to yourself. Let’s see how long that works.”
The door closed behind him.
And just like that, I was alone again.
But not really.
Because his words stayed.
His presence stayed.
And worst of all, the feeling stayed.
I sank onto the bed, pressing my hands against my face.
What was wrong with me?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not here.
Not with him.
I stood up abruptly, like sitting still would make it worse, and grabbed a random outfit from my bag. I needed distraction. Space. Anything to stop thinking about him.
By the time I got downstairs, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I frowned, stepping into the kitchen.
No one.
No sound.
“Hello?” I called out.
Nothing.
That was strange.
I moved further in, glancing around, until I noticed a note on the counter.
Gone out for a few hours. Make yourselves at home.
I stared at it for a second.
Make yourselves at home.
Right.
That was easier said than done.
I turned slightly and froze.
He was there.
Leaning against the wall like he had been there the whole time.
Watching me.
Again.
My heart skipped. “Do you ever make noise when you walk?”
“Do you always jump this easily?” he shot back.
I rolled my eyes, trying to act unaffected. “You’re creepy.”
“And you’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
He pushed off the wall and walked toward me slowly.
Every instinct in my body told me to move.
I didn’t.
“Then why are you still standing there?” he asked.
I crossed my arms. “Because I live here too.”
His gaze dropped briefly, then came back to my face.
“Say that again.”
“What?”
“I live here too.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
“I do,” I said, more firmly this time.
He stopped in front of me.
Close.
Too close again.
“Then stop acting like you’re scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Good.”
His hand reached out suddenly, brushing lightly against my wrist.
I froze.
It wasn’t tight like last night.
It was soft.
Careful.
But somehow, it felt even more dangerous.
“Because I’m not the one you should be worried about,” he said quietly.
My brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
But he didn’t answer.
Instead, his fingers tightened just slightly before letting go.
And then he stepped back.
Just like that.
Like nothing happened.
“I’m going out,” he said casually.
“What?”
He grabbed his keys from the counter. “Try not to overthink everything while I’m gone.”
I stared at him. “You’re the reason I’m overthinking.”
He smirked faintly. “Sure I am.”
“Ethan—”
But he was already walking away.
The front door opened.
Then closed.
And just like that, I was alone again.
For real this time.
I stood there in the quiet kitchen, my heart still racing, my thoughts a mess.
He wasn’t the one I should be worried about.
What did that even mean?
A chill ran down my spine.
And for the first time since I arrived…
I wasn’t just confused.
I was uneasy.
Because something told me this wasn’t just about him.
And whatever this situation really was…
I had just stepped into something way deeper than I thought.
And I had no idea how to get out.
- Writer
