❤️🔥Apartment 304 🥵: chapter 7
946 Words
Learning Him Slowly
The morning after felt different.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
Just… quiet in a way that made everything from last night feel more real than I was ready to admit.
I woke up in my apartment still thinking about Ethan.
About the kiss.
About the way he looked at me right before it happened—like he was holding himself back for longer than he wanted to.
I pressed a hand to my face and exhaled slowly.
“Get a grip, Ava,” I muttered.
But my body didn’t agree with me.
Because all I could remember was him.
A knock sounded at my door.
Soft.
Controlled.
I froze.
Then another knock followed.
“Open up,” Ethan’s voice came through, calm but familiar now.
My heartbeat jumped instantly.
I hesitated for only a second before unlocking the door.
When I opened it, he was standing there like he always belonged in that hallway.
Dark hair slightly messy. Sleeves rolled up. Same calm expression—but his eyes shifted the moment they met mine.
Just a flicker.
Something warmer.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” I replied, trying too hard to sound normal.
Silence stretched between us.
Not uncomfortable.
Just aware.
Ethan lifted a small paper bag slightly.
“I brought food.”
I blinked.
“You did what?”
His lips twitched faintly.
“I wasn’t sure what you had. Or if you eat properly when you’re stressed.”
That hit strangely.
Not romantic in a dramatic way.
Just… thoughtful.
Real.
I stepped aside slowly.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he said, walking in anyway like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My apartment suddenly felt smaller with him inside it.
Or maybe I just noticed him more now.
He placed the bag on my counter and glanced around.
It was quiet again.
Normal again.
Except nothing between us felt normal anymore.
“You always check on your neighbors like this?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
“No,” he replied simply.
That alone made my chest tighten slightly.
“Then why me?”
Ethan paused.
Just for a second.
Then he turned to face me fully.
His gaze held mine like he wasn’t avoiding anything this time.
“Because you don’t act like someone who’s afraid of me,” he said quietly.
I scoffed lightly.
“I should be?”
A small silence.
Then—
“I don’t want you to be,” he admitted.
That honesty caught me off guard.
I looked away first.
A mistake.
Because the moment I did, I became painfully aware of how close he was standing now.
Too close for casual conversation.
Not close enough for what my mind kept imagining.
“You’re confusing again,” I said softly.
Ethan stepped slightly nearer.
“Then ask better questions.”
I looked back at him.
“Okay,” I said. “Why did you kiss me last night?”
The air changed instantly.
His expression shifted—subtle, but real.
Not regret.
Not surprise.
Just intensity returning.
“You already know the answer,” he said.
“I don’t.”
A beat.
Then he lowered his voice slightly.
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like.”
My breath caught.
That was too direct.
Too honest.
Too dangerous.
I swallowed.
“And now?”
Ethan studied me for a moment.
Longer than necessary.
Like he was deciding how much truth I could handle.
“Now,” he said slowly, “it’s worse.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.
“Worse how?”
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips again—quick, instinctive, unhidden this time.
Then back to my eyes.
“Now I know,” he said quietly, “and I have to keep pretending I don’t want it again.”
The words landed between us like something fragile breaking.
Not loudly.
Just quietly irreversible.
I should’ve joked.
Should’ve stepped away.
Should’ve done anything except stand there feeling my heartbeat in my throat.
But I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
Instead, I said the only honest thing I could manage.
“You’re not doing a very good job pretending.”
That earned a low exhale from him—almost a laugh.
Almost.
Then he stepped even closer.
Close enough that I had to tilt my head slightly just to keep eye contact.
“Neither are you,” he murmured.
My breath stuttered slightly.
The distance between us wasn’t gone.
But it was thinning.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Like neither of us wanted to be the one who broke it too fast.
“I don’t know what this is,” I whispered.
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he lifted his hand—but stopped just before touching my face.
Waiting.
Giving me the choice.
That small hesitation did more than anything else.
“I don’t either,” he finally admitted.
A pause.
Then softer:
“But I don’t want it to end.”
My chest tightened painfully.
That was the most honest thing he’d said so far.
I looked at his hand hovering near my cheek.
Then back at his eyes.
“Then don’t make me leave,” I said quietly.
Something changed in his expression at that.
Not possession.
Not control.
Something closer to relief.
His fingers finally brushed my cheek—gentle, deliberate, real.
And this time, the touch didn’t feel like tension.
It felt like permission.
“Stay,” he said simply.
Not commanding.
Just asking.
And for the first time since moving into Apartment 304…
I felt like I wasn’t alone in it anymore.
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- Writer
