3. Close Quarters
(It’s late afternoon. The house is quiet — Ryan’s gone for his internship, and Lia’s made the mistake of thinking she’d get some peace.)
(She’s lounging on the living room floor, sprawled out with a book, the soft hum of the AC providing background noise. That is, until Ethan walks in, toweling off his wet hair, fresh from a shower. This time, he’s wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants.)
(Lia’s stomach flips, but she immediately schools her expression. She will not let him win.)
Ethan
(grinning as he notices her gaze lingering a little too long)
You know, staring is rude.
Lia
(snapping her eyes back to her book)
And walking around half-naked in someone else’s house is disgusting.
Ethan
(mocking) Disgusting? Or distracting?
(He saunters closer, each step deliberate. Lia tries to focus on her book, but the scent of his body wash — something fresh, with a hint of cedar — is impossible to ignore. He’s so near that she can feel the warmth radiating off him.)
Lia
(gritting her teeth)
You’re in my space.
Ethan
(low, amused)
You sure about that? Seems like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
(He leans over her, glancing down at the open book in her hands. His bare chest brushes dangerously close, making Lia’s breath hitch.)
(She can feel the tension crackling, thick like the summer air.)
Ethan
(smirking)
What are you reading? Some tragic romance where the guy dies in the end?
Lia
(deadpan, trying to ignore the way his voice drops when he teases her)
I’m reading about a heroine who shoves an annoying man off a cliff. Sounds pretty relatable.
Ethan
(chuckling, his voice low and husky)
Careful, Callahan. That temper of yours is gonna get you in trouble.
Lia
(finally looking up, narrowing her eyes)
And you’re gonna regret pushing me.
(He holds her gaze, and for a moment, neither of them moves. There’s something intoxicating about the nearness, the tension tightening like a string pulled taut.)
(Ethan's grin softens, his eyes flicking just slightly to her parted lips. Lia hates the way her body responds — the pounding of her pulse, the heat rising in her cheeks.)
Ethan
(barely above a whisper)
Tell me something, Lia. Why do you hate me so much?
(The question throws her off. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Before she can think of a sharp retort, Ethan shifts, one hand bracing against the couch, his bicep flexing. His mouth is frustratingly close to her ear now.)
Ethan
(murmuring)
Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like having me around.
(Lia's breath stutters. His words linger, the warmth of them tracing along her neck. But she won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.)
Lia
(whispering, forcing herself to stay composed)
I like my peace and quiet. Something you clearly ruin.
Ethan
(grinning, his thumb brushing lazily against the edge of the couch)
Then why does it feel like you’re waiting for me to ruin it?
(For a second, the room feels too small. Lia’s heart pounds painfully loud, and Ethan's smirk remains firmly in place.)
(But before she can snap back, he leans away, his lingering presence still wrapping around her like a stubborn heat.)
Ethan
(grabbing his towel and heading toward the stairs)
See you around, Callahan.
(Lia stares at the empty space he leaves behind, her fingers curling tightly around her book. She hates how her skin still tingles where his breath brushed against her.)
(And worst of all? She can’t shake the thought that maybe he’s right — maybe a part of her does like the chaos he brings.)
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