Chapter 10
Mia
I sit at my desk, listening to the raindrops hitting against the window. My laptop is open in front me, I stare at the screen, trying to get the words out, but each sentence feels awkward and forced.
I close my eyes, replaying Mom’s words in my head. Your voice, your imagination, and your stories are gifts. Share them with the world.
I don’t know about gifts. I haven’t written in years. Even when I used to write, my writing was wild and disruptive.
I shake my hands and crack my neck. I can do this. Just write the words, I repeat to myself, taking a few deep breaths.
I position my fingers on the keyboard, ready to let my imagination take over. The sound of the rain against the window helps a little, and I manage a few sentences that don’t make me cringe. I might feel differently when I read it again tomorrow.
Hours pass, and the rain intensifies. Looking out the window, the trees are moving violently as the rain grows louder, but I checked the weather earlier and there was no storm projected.
A loud snap pierces through the noise, startling me. I scream and jump onto my bed as a tree branch crashes against the window, splintering glass everywhere. My chest tightens as my heart is beating like a drum in my ears.
I scream, louder this time. It’s a freaking bear. Then, the power goes out, and the darkness swallows me whole. I have no idea where the bear is.
“No, no, no,” I whimper, barely audible over the sound of my pounding heart. If there’s anything I hate more than storms is the dark.
Heavy footsteps approach, “Mia?” He breaks through my paralyzing brain. A light pierces the darkness, directed at me. Squinting against the brightness, I catch Jake’s silhouette in the doorway. His gaze locks with mine. “Are you okay?”
I can barely speak, my breaths short. “There’s a bear…by the window.” I point at my desk. I don’t want to be eaten by a bear.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “It’s okay, walk towards me slowly.” He remains calm.
Trembling, I carefully edge away from the bed, our gazes intertwined. The moment I’m within reach, he draws me close, and I grasp onto him, shaking from head to toe. He smells like lavender, like he just took a shower. It calms me a little. How does he do that? It’s like whenever he’s close to me, he has that magical power that can calm me.
He doesn’t feel like a stranger, someone I just met, more like someone I've known forever.
Then I remember the bear. I don’t know where it is. “We’re gonna get eaten by a bear,” I mumble to him in a panic.
“No, we’re not.” He cradles my face in his hands. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He takes my hands in his and leads us out of the room, closing the door behind us, his phone lighting the way. I clutch his hand tighter, not wanting him to let go.
Entering his room, he closes the door behind us, the storm still raging outside.
I watch as he checks his phone. “Fuck, there’s no signal.” The light from his phone spreads shadows across his face, highlighting the furrow in his brows and the tension in his eyes. His composed demeanor cracks, and I see the panic in his eyes feeding into mine.
My chest heaves as I gasp for air, my lungs burn with the effort. I clutch at my chest, fingers digging into my skin, desperate for relief. The pressure is unbearable, like I’m suffocating.
“I… I can’t breathe.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He steps closer to me. His hand on my shoulder. “Deep breaths with me, in and out.” He guides me again like he did at the waterfall.
Breathe in . He inhales deeply.
Breathe out . He exhales slowly.
I follow his instructions, focusing on his breathing. My gaze locks onto his green eyes, which seem to glow in the barely lit room. They remind me of a forest—calm, and grounding. The thought of the forest brings back memories of the waterfall. I imagine the sound of water cascading over rocks, the tranquility of being surrounded by trees. The memory of the waterfall fills my mind, its serene power washing away the fear bit by bit.
“That’s it. Just keep breathing for me.”
I used to get panic attacks a lot growing up. They stopped for a while, but came back after Mom died. She was the only one who could calm me so easily.
Jake breaks through my panic attack effortlessly, and brings me back to myself.
Slowly, the suffocating pressure in my chest eases, like a tight band loosening its grip. The room is less claustrophobic, and the shadows less threatening.
“Better?” His eyes search mine.
“Yeah, thank you.”
“Do you get those often?” His eyes soften with a tenderness that breaks through the last of my anxiety.
“Sometimes.” His presence, unexpectedly comforting, prompts honesty I hadn’t planned on sharing with him. He holds my gaze, and my heart flutters for completely different reasons. He leads me to his bed and sits me down at the edge before turning to walk away.
I grab his hand. I’m not even sure why. Earlier today I was avoiding him, now I don’t want him to leave me.
He pauses, turning back, and our eyes lock. There’s a charged, heavy moment as he notices our hands together. His gaze lifts again to meet mine, his breath hitching.
He crouches in front of me, holding my gaze. “It’s okay. I’m gonna connect my ring light to the laptop.” He nods toward his desk. “It should give us some decent light in here.” He smiles at me.
My cheeks warm, and I smile back, my fingers lingering on his skin a moment longer. I want to run my hand through his hair, wondering if they are as soft as they seem. Oh God, what is happening? This is the opposite of what I said I was going to do. Everything is unclear; I’m scared, there is a freaking bear in my room, and there’s no power. He makes me feel safe, that’s it.
Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal, and I’ll go back to avoiding him.
He stands and walks over to his desk, setting everything up. Once it’s connected, the room fills with light.
He turns to me. “Is this better?” His eyebrows raise, his mouth set in a line that hints at a smile trying to break through.
“Yeah, that is better, thank you.”
He sits on the chair at his desk, giving me space. With the light in the room, I can see him clearly now. He’s wearing boxer shorts that leave little to the imagination, and a plain black tee. But his presence fills the space completely, making the room feel smaller.
Come on, I don’t get attracted to people unless I have an emotional connection to them. It doesn’t matter how his muscle stretches underneath the short sleeve shirt, or the print of his shaft in his boxer. That shouldn't make my body warm all over as if we’ve turned the heat up in here.
I looked down at my fingers, his intense gaze on me, making me acutely aware of what I’m wearing.
A short pajama set with a lace-trimmed cami that exposes my stomach. Does he find me attractive, or is he more into female models with flat stomachs and fit bodies?
I’ve seen his IG, he is pretty popular with a million followers. Based on the comments on his post, the ladies love him.
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a little bit uncomfortable, and he politely looks away.
“I’ll grab you a jacket,” he says as he walks to his closet. When he returns, he hands it to me, and I catch a whiff of fresh laundry mixed with a faint hint of his scent. I resist the urge to bring it to my nose before putting it on.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my hair out the hood.
I notice he also changes into gray sweatpants. Instead of returning to his desk, he sits on the floor, leaning against the door. His eyes fixed on the window, watching the storm outside. His shoulders are tense as he taps his fingers on his knee. Every now and then, he lets out a deep sigh, his jaw clenching with each breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I don’t want to intrude, but I can’t ignore the knot in my chest that forms when I observe him. A concern that is too deep for the short time I’ve known him. His eyes reflect a dark, swirling chaos like the storm outside.
He looks up at me, his lip curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
I get off the bed and move to sit next to him on the floor. I’m not even sure why. “I’m afraid of the dark, and I hate storms,” I say before I could stop myself. “If you weren’t here tonight, I… I don’t know, what would I do?”
He turns his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine, sending ripples through my stomach. “I don’t like storms either,” he confesses, our eyes still locked.
Silence.
“So, why are you scared of the dark? I gotta know.” He gives me that sweet smile where I can see his dimple, not his usual flirty one.
I release a deep breath. “Promise not to laugh,” I mumble, eyeing him.
He nods, and smiles again. “I promise.”
I take a deep breath before I begin. “My great grandma was Haitian, and she used to tell me all these stories about ghosts, and something called ‘lougarou’ . I don’t know how to translate it exactly. It’s like a night creature, or an evil spirit that uses black magic. They come at night to harm you.” I shudder at the memory. “I’ve always feared they would come for me in the dark.”
Finishing my story, I catch him fighting back a laugh, breaking his promise. His efforts fail and his laughter fills the surrounding space. I shoot him an intense, icy stare, and playfully punch his muscular biceps for breaking his promise.
“You promised not to laugh.” I pout, but his laugh is infectious, and I can’t help but laugh along with him.
I laugh so hard that an unexpected, sharp sound comes out of my nose. Ugh, I hate when that happens. So embarrassing.
We both stop mid-laugh, staring at each other. “Did you just snort?” He raises his eyebrows; his lips turning into a teasing smile.
Mortified, I cover my face with my hands. “No, I didn’t.” My words muffle between my fingers.
He reaches over and gently pulls my hands away from my face. His eyes are warm, and he has that sweet smile again that makes my heart do a weird little skip. “You snorted, and it was adorable.”
Oh, God, why does his smile affect me like this? A warmth blooms in my chest like a flower in spring, its petals opening slowly in the soft glow of the sunlight.
Our laughter gradually fades, replaced by a comfortable silence. I stare at the necklace around his neck.
“You’re staring,” he notes, startling me..
“Your necklace, it’s similar to mine.” I nod toward his neck.
He looks down at it, then back at mine. “They are. My grandfather gave me mine, he passed away.” He holds between his fingers with a sweet, nostalgic smile. “I still wear it because I miss him. ”
“I’m sorry.” My heart aches for him, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. I know how it feels to lose someone you love. He looks up at me, his gazes holding mine.
I was never good at eye contact, but when he looks at me, I can’t look away. I’m lost in the depth of his green eyes. There’s something about them. As if I’ve known them forever.
“It’s okay. He died a long time ago.” He rubs the back of his neck. “What about you? How did you get yours?”
I reach out and touch mine too, the stone cool under my fingertips. “My mom gave it to me. It’s a family heirloom. Her mother gave it to her. That’s the only thing she kept from her life in France.”
“France?” His eyebrows lift in surprise.
“Yes, my mom is from there.”
“That’s amazing.” He leans in.
“Yeah,” I smile.
I don’t really know much about my mom’s family. Except for the fact they were not on talking terms. My mom didn’t like to talk about it, so I never asked questions. My grandmother contacted me after mom died. Apparently, she didn’t even know my mom was sick.
“What a coincidence, right?” He stretches out one leg in front of him.
“Yeah.” Our necklaces are similar, but not exactly the same. His chain is black, and mine is gold. But the crystals look identical. Glowing softly in the light.
Silence falls between us, but it’s a comfortable silence. I wonder why we have similar necklaces. Maybe both of our families love emerald necklaces. Many people love emeralds. It’s probably nothing. But my active mind whispers, what if they’re connected somehow?
“ I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t blame you for doing so. But we’re both here for the summer, and maybe we can find a way to coexist, maybe even enjoy it?” His eyebrows arch, and his lips parting as if to catch his next breath or my response, whichever comes first. “Can we start over?”
He’s right, I’ve been avoiding him because being around him is confusing. I don’t like how he can calm me so easily, or how he feels so familiar. I barely know him but I also feel like I’ve known him forever.
He’s right though, I can’t avoid him all summer. It will be better for both of us if we can get along.
“Okay, but I have a few demands.” My arms fold across my chest, ready to establish my non-negotiable terms. I need to set some boundaries.
He nods, a spark of relief in his eyes. “Let’s hear them.”
“You can’t wake me up before 8 a.m.. I need my beauty sleep,” I say, a little distracted by the way his gaze seems to hold mine a little too intensely, and the way his blonde tousled hair falls over his green eyes.
“Agreed,” he says, then winks. “You need your beauty sleep, although I’m not sure how you can get any more beautiful. The second?”
Ugh, he’s such a flirt.
I ignore the way my heart flutters with baby butterflies and continue. “Secondly, there’s no scenario where you and I end up sleeping together.” L ike ev er. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I refuse to think about how he would feel to be with him. I’ve seen the imprint in his workout leggings. Why am I even thinking about this? This is not me. I don't think about man’s dick.
His smile widens, teasingly. “I wasn’t planning on it, but good to know, unless you change your mind, of course.” He winks, again.
He can’t help himself, can he?
I roll my eyes, dismissing the quickening of my pulse. “Not going to happen. I have a boyfriend, remember?” I say, holding onto this lie as if it’s my lifeline. Because right now, it feels like it is. If he thinks I have a boyfriend, I can convince myself that he won’t try to make a move on me.
He leans in closer. “Just hypothetically, if you didn’t have a boyfriend?”
I swallow, my throat dry like sandpaper. “Hypothetically? Still no.”
His eyes linger on me, studying me, my heart racing under his stare. Then he nods and smiles. “Fair enough,” he says, but his gaze tells me he sees right through me, and it sends tingling shivers through my body.
He tilts his head, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. “What if you join me in the morning for my run?”
“Are you calling me fat?” I keep my face straight, watching his reaction.
“You’re perfect, and we both know it, so don’t twist my words.” His tone is serious, as if I offended him.
This is what I’m talking about. This guy is confusing. Who the hell says such things to someone they barely know? He didn’t sound like he was flirting with me. He meant it.
“Okay, I’ll go, but it has to be after 8 a.m.” I let out a hitched breath. My heart is still recovering from his words.
He laughs. “Nobody runs at 8 a.m. I usually run at 6 a.m.”
“That’s not going to work,” I argue.
“Fine, we can go at 6:30 a.m.”
“Nope, the earliest I will do is 7 a.m.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Okay, fine. Then I can make my protein shake?” He gives me those pleading puppy dog eyes.
“Yes, you can make your protein shake.”
Why does this guy love protein shakes so much? Although looking at the way his muscles flex subtly under his shirt, I can tell they’ve been working wonders for him.
“Okay, it’s a deal then.” He holds out his hand so we can shake on it. “Maybe you’ll climb with me too,” he adds, standing up, his hand gripping mine a moment longer than necessary before he helps me to my feet.
“Climbing? You mean like climbing a rock? Literal rock climbing?” I laugh at him. Now he’s definitely pushing it. I don’t have the body strength to climb.
“We can start with indoor climbing before moving to the mountain, baby steps.” He grins.
I raise my eyebrows at him skeptically. “I don’t know about that.”
“Only if you want to.”“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay then. It’s late. Let’s get you to sleep.” His eyes shift to the one bed in the room.
“There’s only one bed?” I state the obvious. He looks at the bed and back at me.
“You can have the bed, and I’ll sleep on the small couch.”
“It’s okay, it’s a king bed. It should be big enough for both of us.”
The truth is, I don't want to be alone on the bed. What if something happened? Just thinking about it increases my heart rate.
“Okay.” The word barely escapes his lips as we both settle into the bed, carefully maintaining a respectful distance. We lay on our back, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers.
“Good night, Mia.”
“Good night, Jake.”