"I—"
Zion's large hands firmly grasp my shoulders, turning me to face him. The touch sends a jolt through me, reminiscent of our first encounter. I brace myself for his usual sharp retort, his defense mechanism whenever I've tried to connect with him before. To my surprise, his gaze softens, and he murmurs,
"Thank you."
For a fleeting moment, I dare to hope that a breakthrough is within reach. His guard momentarily down, there's a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, his demeanour shifts.
The hardness returns to his features, the familiar mask slipping back into place.
"Now Snowflake, get out fu*k out of my way," Zion muttered, his tone edged with impatience.
My brows knitted together in a deep furrow, anger simmering beneath the surface. That damn nickname always got under my skin, and he knew it all too well.
Before I could snap back at him, he abruptly turned away, taking a few hurried steps before stumbling and crashing to the ground, just a couple of stairs up.
"Serves him right for calling me Snowflake!"
Suppressing a chuckle at his intoxicated state, I move in to assist him once more. Surprisingly, he tolerates my help, though I suspect he's indulging me out of sheer amusement.
We eventually halt at the entrance to his bedroom. I withdraw my arm from around his waist, preparing to step away, but I'm caught off guard when he suddenly pulls me back towards him.
Our bodies press together, and I feel the warmth emanating from him through the fabric that separates us.
"Is that hoodie your boyfriend's?" He asked suddenly, his voice laced with curiosity.
Startled by his directness, I hesitate before responding. "Huh?"
"The hoodie you're wearing. It's a guy's," he clarifies, his gaze piercing mine with intensity. Flustered, I manage to stammer out, "Oh. Yeah."
"Boyfriend?" he probes further, his tone insistent. I falter under his scrutiny, feeling a knot of nervousness tighten in my stomach. "No," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Whose is it?" he snaps, his voice suddenly harsh and laced with frustration. His eyes narrow, and a dark intensity flickers across his face.
“What does it matter, look…” I begin, but before I can finish my sentence, he grabs my arm, his grip firm. He leans closer, his eyes boring into mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them.
“Whose hoodie is it Snowflake?” he repeats, his voice cold and unrelenting.
I swallow hard, a shiver racing down my spine.
"It's W-Winter, not Snowflake!"
"WHO FUC*ING HOODIE IS IT?" He seethes through gritted teeth.
"It's... it's my ex's."
His expression shifts, and I detect a flicker of something in his eyes that I can't quite decipher. The moment hangs heavy between us, charged with unspoken words and unexplored emotions, leaving me acutely aware of the proximity and intensity of our unexpected encounter.
"Ex?" he queries, his eyebrow arching inquisitively.
"We weren't compatible," I admit softly, finding myself divulging more than intended. "He wanted things I wasn't ready for."
"Damn," he mutters gruffly, his expression tightening with sudden comprehension. Instead of pushing me away, he pulls me closer, enveloping me in his warmth. My heart races in response to his closeness, and I feel the tension in his body as his gaze remains fixed on mine.
I tremble slightly against him, expecting a reaction, but he remains stoic, his grip firm yet gentle. The weight of his silence hangs heavily between us, leaving me uncertain and vulnerable.
"Zion?" I venture, breaking the silence that stretches uncomfortably between us.
His eyes drop to my lips as his name slips from them, and I feel a rush of anticipation. Instinctively, I moisten my bottom lip, unable to resist the tension building between us. When he finally moves, it catches me off guard, and I stumble back against the hallway wall. The resounding slam of his bedroom door reverberates through the house, a stark confirmation that the moment was real.
My heart pounds erratically, and my body trembles with the lingering sensation of what almost transpired. He was about to kiss me, I'm certain of it. But why me? And why now? It's a bewildering turn of events after months of him avoiding me, acting nothing short of aloof and distant since our parents pushed us together.
As I stand there, reeling from the unexpected encounter, questions swirl in my mind, leaving me both exhilarated and confused about where this newfound tension between us might lead.
After a moment of confusion, the sound of another door closing snaps me out of my thoughts. I push away from the wall and briskly return to my room.
---
"Dinner time, Winter! Zion! Are you ready?" Dad's voice booms up the stairs, jolting me from my reverie. I have no clue where we're headed for this meal, but I'm guessing it's some fancy place to bolster Dad's image. Reluctantly, I've ditched my preferred jeans and vest for a pencil skirt and blouse.
"Just a sec!" I shout back, hastily applying a coat of gloss to my lips and smoothing down my hair. Dad's words of approval greet me as I descend the stairs. He's decked out in a crisp suit, while Jenny looks lovely in a floral summer dress. My assumption about the venue seems on point.
Their expressions sour as Ben finally appears at the top of the staircase. "What the hell is that?" Dad explodes, causing both Jenny and me to turn toward the stairs in surprise.