4. Almost Touching
(It’s evening. The sky is painted in hues of pink and purple, and Lia is in the kitchen, attempting to bake cookies to distract herself.)
(She’s blasting her favorite playlist, hoping the music will drown out the lingering memory of Ethan’s smug grin from earlier. The flour-dusted counter is a mess, but at least it keeps her hands busy. Until, of course, he shows up — like he always does.)
(Ethan strolls in, fresh from a workout, his black tank top clinging to his toned chest. Sweat glistens along his arms. Lia catches a glimpse before quickly focusing back on the dough.)
Ethan
(grinning)
Domestic goddess, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you.
Lia
(without looking at him)
I’m sorry, did I ask for commentary?
Ethan
(mocking surprise)
Wow. Someone’s still in a mood.
Lia
(sarcastically)
Yeah, it’s almost like a certain someone ruined my summer.
Ethan
(moving closer, voice low)
You sure about that?
(His tone is playful, but there’s something darker behind it — something that makes her stomach flutter. She doesn’t look at him. She can’t.)
(She digs her hands into the dough, working it aggressively. Ethan leans against the counter, watching her with infuriating amusement.)
(The air between them feels heavy, like it’s waiting for something to snap.)
Ethan
(softly)
You’ve got flour on your face.
Lia
(still not looking up)
Then mind your own business and let me deal with it.
(But Ethan doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t. He pushes off the counter, moving in behind her. Lia stiffens as he reaches past her, his bare arm brushing against hers.)
(The heat of him is undeniable, his presence suffocating in the most frustratingly intoxicating way.)
Ethan
(whispering against her ear)
Or I could help.
(Lia’s pulse races. She can feel the ghost of his breath on her neck. The scent of him — sweat, soap, and something distinctly Ethan — wraps around her. Every nerve in her body is on high alert.)
Lia
(voice catching)
Back off, Carter.
(For a moment, neither of them moves. The tension coils tighter, so thick that it’s almost unbearable. Then, slowly, Ethan’s fingers brush against her cheek, swiping away the faint streak of flour.)
(His thumb lingers — just long enough for her to feel the roughness of his skin.)
Lia
(barely above a whisper)
You’re so annoying.
Ethan
(smirking)
And you’re so easy to mess with.
(But he doesn't move away. His hand drops to her waist, lingering just a moment too long. Lia hates the way her body responds — the way her skin burns beneath his touch. He’s too close. Too much.)
Ethan
(softly)
You’re tense.
Lia
(snapping, though her voice wavers)
Gee, I wonder why.
(Ethan chuckles, the sound vibrating through her. He finally pulls away, but not before his fingers graze her waist in a touch that feels far too intentional.)
(Lia exhales sharply, gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.)
Ethan
(grinning, as if unaffected)
Cookies better be good, Callahan. You’ve got a lot to prove.
(He disappears into the living room, leaving Lia flustered and furious. Her cheeks are hot, her hands trembling slightly. She tells herself it’s because of how much she hates him.)
(It has to be. But the lingering burn of his touch tells a different story. And that’s what terrifies her most.)
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