011
992 Words
Lena
“Stay here.”
The command sank into me deeper than the words themselves. A voice that didn’t allow room for question. My legs locked even though my mind screamed to move.
I watched him cross the kitchen, every step forward, shoulders filling the doorway like a wall. He didn’t even look back. Just left me there, spoon hanging limp in my hand, pasta bubbling over the top of the pot like it was the only thing still behaving normally in the room.
The front door clicked again, softer this time, followed by the thud of heels on the tiles.
A familiar rhythm.
Chloe.
Of course it was her. Who else would crash in past midnight with that careless toss of keys, that too-loud laugh into the phone before cutting it short when she saw where she was?
“Mark?” her voice carried down the hall, sharp and questioning.
“Yes.”
His reply was steady, calm, but his tone had shifted. Gone was the private heat he’d used on me seconds ago. This one was smooth.
I stepped back from the stove, wishing it could swallow me whole and turn me into some meatballs to be served hand in hand with the pasta. I didn’t want her to see me like this. Not flushed or breathless, definitely not caught in the residue of him.
“Didn’t expect you home this late,” Mark said, moving into the hall. His shadow cut off the light from spilling toward me.
I hated how that made me feel — wanted and trapped at the same time.
Chloe’s steps drew closer, her heels clipping fast. She appeared in the doorway, eyes darting from Mark’s face to the stove, then to me. She froze for half a second, then smiled.
“Midnight pasta party?” Her tone was syrupy, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.
I gripped the counter tighter, heat crawling up my neck. “Yeah yeah, I’m hungry.”
Her gaze turned to the salt jar on the counter, then to me, then back to Mark standing far too close for comfort.
“I bet,” she said, drawing out the words like she was pulling a thread.
Something in Mark’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward slightly, not enough to touch me, but enough to cut Chloe’s line of sight between us.
“It’s late, why are you…here?” he said simply.
The sharpness in his tone wasn’t lost on her. She tilted her head, then dropped her purse onto the counter with a loud thud, leaving me startled.
“Any problem? It’s my best friends house, remember?” She gestured vaguely, eyes glittering with malice before sauntering toward the living room instead of the stairs.
“Besides her dad let you stay so..?” She added, one hand fumbling her hair mockingly.
I froze. “You’re… staying?”
She flopped onto the couch, kicking off her heels, making herself at home like she owned the place. “Your dad said it was fine if I crash whenever. Remember?” Her smile cut across the room. “Besides, it’s late.”
Mark didn’t argue. He simply turned away, leaving the room without another word, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.
I stood there, staring at Chloe curled up in the blanket she’d stolen off the back of the couch, TV remote already in her hand, her eyes glittering even when she wasn’t looking at me.
She wasn’t here to sleep. This b***h was here to watch.
I barely ate. The pasta turned to glue in my mouth. Every second I replayed Chloe’s eyes, the way she looked at me like she knew something that suddenly gave her this confidence.
By the time I dragged myself upstairs, my stomach was heavy, my head heavier. But sleep wouldn’t come. I lay there in the dark, listening for footsteps in the hall, for the click of her door opening, for the sound of his voice.
It didn’t come.
What did come was worse.
Morning came and my body still felt stiff, restless. I dragged myself into clothes, the blanket still clinging to me in my mind even after I’d dropped it.
Chloe was in the kitchen when I came down. Coffee mug in hand, phone in the other, her hair still messy from the night but her expression sharp. Too tidy for someone who claimed she’d just woken up.
She watched me cross the room, silent, eyes glinting with something I couldn’t name.
“Sleep well?” she asked finally, voice dripping with fake sweetness.
I busied myself with pouring coffee. “Fine.”
“Mmm.” She stirred her mug lazily. “Funny. I could’ve sworn I heard voices downstairs around midnight. Couldn’t make out much, though.”
The spoon clinked against the rim of her cup.
My throat dried. “What noises? Must’ve been your head. I doubt you ever even went to bed.”
Her eyes lingered on me, unblinking. A smile curved across her lips.
“You should be more careful, Lena.” She set her mug down, leaned forward slightly. “Secrets have a way of coming out.”
My heart pounded so hard I thought she’d hear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. “Sure you don’t.” She tapped her phone against the table, and for a split second the screen lit up.
I caught the name flashing across it.
Ella.
ELLA?
My blood ran cold. First Mark… now—Chloe? Who exactly was this person? And if she was related to Mark, why was Chloe in touch with her? Or could it be a different person..?
Chloe smirked wider, her eyes locked on mine, letting the pause stretch long enough. Then, deliberately, she leaned in a fraction, voice soft but stern.
“Maybe I should tell your dad you’ve been acting weird.”
- Writer
