9
Raina
IT WAS TOO EARLY to be awake, yet here I was, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the will to get up.
I wasn’t a morning person. Never had been, which was exactly why my flat had blackout blinds and why my cats always operated on my schedule. But last night, after travelling for over 20 hours, I’d waited until Kaira dropped off Lilli and Milo before passing out without closing the curtains in my room.
Now, the light filtered in my room, alongside Lilli’s incessant scratching at the bedroom door, had woken me up before it was acceptable for humans to be awake. I sighed, snuggling further in my bed that felt like an actual cloud, only for Lilli to scratch at the door again.
I looked in her direction, begging silently to wait just a minute, but she just stared back with a narrowed gaze, her tail twitching with impatience.
“Fine,” I grumbled, throwing off the covers and shivering as the cool air hit my skin. Lilli purred as if she’d just won a battle of wills as I opened the door. I frowned, looking around the room for Milo. “Where’s your brother?”
But she’d already darted out, not a single care about anything or anyone else. I sighed, quickly freshening up and grabbing my phone off the nightstand before following her to the kitchen.
The morning chill seeped into my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, and I instantly regretted not grabbing a hoodie.
By the time I entered the kitchen, Lilli was already parked by her bowl and watched me with big, wide eyes like she hadn’t been fed for days but I knew for a fact that Kaira took proper care for both of them.
I glanced at the clock in the oven.
06:41 AM. Ugh.
I reached for the kibble bag, filling her bowl quietly, and before I could even straighten up, she tore into her breakfast. I stroked her fur, making her close her eyes in response.
“Little gremlin,” I muttered, placing a quick kiss on Lilli’s head before straightening.
I sighed, turning to the coffee machine. If I had any hope of functioning like a normal human being this early in the morning, caffeine was non-negotiable.
The house was silent, but there was still a heaviness to it. As the coffee machine turned on with a low hum, followed by a rhythmic hiss of steam and a sharp gurgle, I couldn’t help but flinch slightly.
Too early.
Resting my elbows at the counter, I watched as the coffee poured out, the rich aroma filling the air. It was like my brain needed something so menial, so habitual, before reminding me of the reason I had cut my trip short. The next couple of days were my last days off before I had to give Hazel an answer.
As I sat at the kitchen bar chair, cradling my coffee cup, Lilli purred contentedly near my feet, already fed and settled for the morning.
I looked around the living room.
Where was Milo?
That was another thing about our new living situation. Milo, who liked to be left alone, was now a self-proclaimed owner of every random weird little spot in the house.
“Milo?” I called, slightly confused but equally concerned. He wasn’t a moving cat, but he wasn’t this elusive when food was involved. But.. nothing.
It was too early for this, so I used my next best option. Unlocking my phone, I spotted a text from Vedant.
Vedant: Thanks for the mithai. It clearly worked.
A smile reached my lips, remembering his race. I’d left early, knowing I needed the time to myself to make the decision, and with the way they were building their itinerary for post-race celebrations, I would’ve been lucky to make it back home in one piece.
Me: Hillcrest 420S. I prefer the Navy blue, but I could settle for the black one.
A reply came in instantly.
Vedant: Are you willing to make them every race weekend until the end of my career, then?
Me: Well played.
Me: Just to be clear, that was a NO.
Grinning, I opened the tracker app linked to Milo’s collar. The blinking green dot appeared on the map, steady and unmoving. I frowned, turning to the ‘follow’ option.
My feet carried me back upstairs, then another floor, and I stopped.
This can’t be right .
Milo barely tolerated me on a good day, only wanting affection when he knew I needed it. But he definitely didn’t like men.
Anytime I’d brought over a guy, he always hissed until they were no longer in his territory. And now, he was in Oliver’s room.
Oliver.
The twist in my stomach was sudden but not a surprise. I was almost thankful that my life had a series of thunderstorms in a span of a week to focus on the pull I felt each time I was near him. Or the fact that each time we had a conversation, he watched me, with the corners of his lips slightly turned in an almost smirk, as if he was hyper-aware of everything I was feeling.
It was jarring.
And now, Milo, my notoriously aloof cat who hated men, had decided to cosy up in his room.
I knocked lightly, a part of me hoping he wouldn’t answer.
“Yeah?”
I opened the door and stopped.
Oliver was sprawled on his bed, shirtless, and hair wet from the shower. Milo was curled up on his chest, his head tucked under Oliver’s chin, his purrs louder than I’d ever heard. Oliver’s hand was moving, slowly stroking his fur, and his gaze lifted to meet mine, his lips tugging into a slow grin.
His amber eyes connected with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “Morning, looking for him?”
I stepped in, wrapping my arms around me. “What did you do?”
“What did I do?” He laughed softly, his gaze running over me before flaring slightly.
“He doesn’t like people,” My jaw dropped as Milo snuggled further in his nape.
“He loves me,” Oliver countered, his hands resting lightly on Milo’s back.
“Clearly,” My cat was unbothered by my judgemental tone. “Seriously, what was it? Treats? Are you secretly a warlock?”
“Warlock?” He half-laughed.
“A man who practices sorcery,”
Oliver watched me, amused, as he scratched Milo behind his ears. “Thanks for the definition, love. But I didn’t do anything. He came up here all on his own. Can’t blame him, though. This is the best spot in the house.”
I sighed, my eyes scanning the room. The rich navy walls wrapped up the room in a calming way, embracing the cold blue of the shifting weather. He had a giant bed in the middle of the room—which could easily fit seven people; his bedding matching the walls. In the corner, he had a mini fridge that looked like it was stocked with mineral water and I held back an eye roll. Next to his bed, he had floor-to-ceiling windows with what looked like black-out curtains, that had a sofa and a small table next to it.
“You know, there’s plenty of space if you want to join us.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping closer in his direction, making his eyes glint. “Come on, troublemaker. Breakfast.” Milo’s ears perked up at the word.
I didn’t offer him my hold, knowing he would reject me, and before I could blink, he scurried out of the room.
Another shiver went down my spine, knowing I now had all of Oliver’s attention. His gaze swept over me, and when his eyes connected with mine again, something darker lit in them.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of the fact I was just in my pjs and my nightshirt was long enough that it covered my shorts.
“He’s really not that friendly. Especially with men.”
“Maybe he knows I’m special.”
I snorted, “I wouldn’t let it get to your head, King. Maybe he just wanted attention,”
“I’m happy to give it.” His voice followed me as I walked out of the room, pretending the flutter in my chest was just the caffeine kicking in.
Downstairs, Milo settled by his bowl with the same enthusiasm Lilli had shown earlier, leaving me to try and shake off the pull of Oliver’s gaze.
When I turned around, he was entering the kitchen, fully dressed and extending a hoodie in my direction.
I watched him, curious, and he just shrugged. “You looked cold.”
“I’ve got one upstairs. I can put it on when I go back up,”
“I don’t mind,”
I hesitated.
“What are you worried about?”
It was like my brain had short-circuited. How could I tell him that it felt like we were crossing an invisible line?
This is stupid. It’s just a hoodie.
I sighed, taking it from his hands. “Thank you.”
Slipping my arms into his hoodie, instantly, I was engulfed in his scent. A burst of something fresh and light, like a soft breeze mixed with something earthy and comforting. I couldn’t help the small laugh that flew out of me as the hem covered my night shirt completely. The sleeves reached past my hands.
“I like it, it’s cosy.” I glanced back at him, only to find him watching me with an expression so strong, I wasn’t sure what it meant.
“You can keep it if you want,” He replied, walking over to the fridge. “You look good.”
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
Thankfully, Milo tapped his bowl, and I turned to him apologetically before grabbing the kibble again.
Once I’d filled it, I straightened and sat back down to where I’d left my coffee cup and watched Oliver.
Unlike the food boxes in the fridge, he grabbed actual ingredients. “Have you eaten anything?”
“It’s too early for food,” I frowned, as he placed the ingredients and stood across from me.
“It’s too early?” He laughed softly, and even though he had done it before, in that second, it somehow felt more intimate than it had any right to be. “You’re drinking coffee but can’t manage breakfast?”
“Coffee is different,”
“Different?”
“I need it to survive,”
He shook his head like I’d said something funny, but I wasn’t joking.
“What do you think about eggs?”
“I don’t.”
“What?”
I shrugged, “I don’t think about eggs.”
He chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly.
I bit my lip, trying to stop the grin from overtaking my face. Why did I like making him laugh so much?
“You eat them?”
“Sometimes,”
“How do you like them?”
“Why? Are you offering to make them?”
“Well.. yeah?”
“You cook?” We had been going back and forth so rapidly, so when the question laced with complete disbelief left me, I couldn’t help it.
But it didn’t deter him; he just flashed me a grin. “Don’t sound so surprised, love. I have layers,”
“Would you say you’re an onion or a cake?”
He paused, giving me a look to continue.
“You know… an onion has many layers but is empty inside; cake, on the other hand, has layers but has substance to it.”
Oliver rubbed his palm over his lips, like he was trying to stop himself from laughing. “Wait, hold up. Are those my only options? Onion or cake?”
I shrugged, trying to appear serious myself. “It’s a pretty straightforward question. Layers but empty, or layers and sweet. You picking one or what?”
He scratched his chin, mulling over his choices. “Okay, I’m gonna say… neither. I’m like a lasagne.”
I squinted. “A lasagne?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged as if his answer made the most sense. “I’ve got layers, I’m solid, and let’s be honest—everyone loves a good lasagne.”
I stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Wow, that’s… impressive. You really just compared yourself to comfort food.”
“Comfort and irresistible,” he winked, and something in me melted. “Unlike cake, I won’t give you a sugar rush and a crash.”
I shook my head, still laughing.
“So, did I pass?” He grinned.
“It wasn’t a test,” I replied, but he didn’t seem to be convinced.
Okay, maybe it was a test, and he had passed, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
I watched him as he pulled out a chopping board in front of him, and something in my belly fluttered. The sight of him cooking with sleeves pulled back and movements that looked practised; it was a little disarming. I wasn’t used to guys being… like this. Not with me. And definitely not in the space I lived in.
“You’re awfully cheerful for this hour. Thought you didn’t like mornings,” I said, hoping to cover the awkward twist in my stomach.
“I don’t,” he replied, glancing at me as if he was trying to be careful, and my heart raced. “But Rihaan has forced me to go on enough morning runs that I’ve learned to just tolerate it out of habit.”
“Sounds more like Stockholm Syndrome,” I muttered.
He grinned and turned towards the stove, leaving me feeling a little off-balance.
It all seemed a bit too easy with him. Nothing about it was a weird one-off fluke, but like it was just another day for him.
I’d already been letting him pull me into his easy back-and-forth and enjoying it more than I wanted to admit, but the little voice in my head—the one that kept me in check, the one that told me to keep my distance—was getting quieter, and that realisation sent a flicker of panic through me.
Oliver glanced at me then, a half-smile on his face. “Well, are you going to tell me how your eggs are now?”
“Uh, I really meant it’s too early for food.” I stood up abruptly, the bar chair scraping against the floor louder than I intended. “Plus, I need to get ready. I’ve got today off to run errands and get the rest of the things I need after the leak.”
He paused mid-motion, egg in hand, and raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I was already halfway out of the kitchen. “Thanks for the hoodie, by the way,” I called over my shoulder, forcing my tone to sound casual.
“Wait—”
But I didn’t let him finish. I was gone, mug in one hand, my phone in the other, as I took the stairs two at a time. Both my cats are right on my trail.
Upstairs, in the quiet of my room, I leaned against the door and let out a long breath. The weird feeling in my stomach was still persistent.
I silently chided myself.
This was why I kept my walls up. This was why I didn’t let people get too close. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He wasn’t supposed to feel… different. But he did, and it scared me more than I cared to admit.