6. "The bulge in your pants disagrees."
She was already in the kitchen when I walked in.
Again.
Barefoot. Relaxed. Wearing a lavender ribbed tank top and a pair of pajama shorts that could barely be called clothing. Her hair was half-tied, messy in a way that looked infuriatingly perfect, and she was sipping her coffee like she had all the time in the world.
I didn't spare her a greeting.
Didn't even glance her way.
I went straight for the coffee machine, pressed the button harder than necessary, and kept my eyes on the blinking light like it was the only thing worth looking at.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," she said behind me. "Not even a snide comment about my clothes? Is the world coming to an end?"
I grabbed my coffee, turned, and met her gaze. "I'm done wasting my breath."
She gave a soft chuckle, stepping closer to the counter. "What's wrong? Did you dream about me and now you're mad about it?"
I took a long, slow sip.
Let the silence hang heavy before answering.
"I don't dream about things that irritate me."
She arched a brow, unfazed. "You sure? Because you act like I live in your head rent-free."
"You give yourself far too much credit, Sinclair."
"Oh, we're doing last names now?" She teased, circling the kitchen island, her movements casual, but I saw the glint in her eye. She was enjoying this. "Trying to distance yourself after last night's little stare-off?"
I smirked—cold and deliberate. "Last night, I was simply debating whether you were worth the energy."
"And the verdict?"
"Still pending."
She stepped close, too close. "Take your time. I've got nowhere else to be."
There was that annoyingly smug smile again.
"Clearly." I said sarcastically.
She wanted me to crack.
But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
I downed the rest of my coffee in one go, set the mug down harder than necessary, and adjusted my cufflinks.
"Stay away from me if you know what's good for you." I warned her with a deadly stare.
"Or what?" She challenged, raising a brow.
Oh for fuck's sake.
She was better off as that mute, little girl.
Now she's got a big mouth on her.
A big, plump, pink—
Get your shit together, Zayden.
I leaned in slightly. "If you decide to get in my way, Aurelia, I'll deal with you the same way I handle everything else. Ruthlessly."
Her lip lifted up into a smirk. "Am I supposed to tremble with fear now?"
My eyes darkened. She was damn infuriating. So self-assertive. So headstrong. It was difficult winning a conversation against her and getting to have the last word.
———
When I returned home that night, I knew one thing. I had absolutely no tolerance or will to face that Sinclair girl. She was already taking up too much space in my thoughts; I was fed up of running into her.
If only I could throw her out.
Needing water, I headed for the kitchen, but realised someone was already there.
I sighed in frustration, thinking it must be her.
But when I entered, I realised it was just my mother.
I was relieved.
"Hi, Zayden! How are you doing, my dear? How's work?" She chirped enthusiastically.
I gave her a small smile. "Everything's good, mom."
"Your dad told me you made some big decisions and called for major changes. He's very proud, and so am I." She stated proudly, a happy grin on her beautiful face.
I kissed her cheek. "Well, whose son am I?"
Her smile grew before she returned to her cup of tea.
"Mom?" I said, pouring myself water.
"Yes, dear?"
I sucked in a sharp breath, taking a sip of my water. "Does Aurelia ever wear pants?"
Her jaw dropped open. "Excuse me?"
"She's always walking around in tiny shorts and tank tops like it's her own damn house." I complained.
Mom stared at me like I had lost my mind. "And?"
"And," I snapped, "maybe you could ask her to cover up a little. It's... inappropriate."
She chuckled.
I was astounded at how nonchalant she was. "What's funny, mom? I'm not telling you jokes."
"Since when did you become so conservative?" She said, turning to face me, one brow raised.
"I'm not being conservative," I muttered. "It's about respect."
"For whom? You?" Her tone was teasing now. "Because if I didn't know better, I'd say someone's getting a little too worked up over a pair of legs."
I clenched my jaw, taken aback. "Mom, what are you even saying?"
She gave me a knowing look—the kind only mothers could give.
"Zayden, I've known Aurelia since she was seven. She's always been sweet, polite and respectful. This is her house as much as it's yours. What she wears shouldn't be any of your concern." She schooled me.
I frowned. "Are you my mom or hers?"
She turned to give me a smile. "Yours. Which is why I'm teaching my son not to associate respect and modesty with clothes, and to mind his own business."
I couldn't believe her.
Gulping down the rest of the water, I set the glass down with force and gave her a curt nod, before leaving the kitchen and pacing upstairs towards my bedroom.
Angry and frustrated.
That little girl seemed to have my parents under a spell.
My jaw was tight, mom's words playing in my mind as I stepped upstairs into the hallway, eager to get to my room.
But when I turned the corner towards my room, my feet halted in their tracks.
Oh God.
She was there, standing right outside her door.
Bent over slightly, fiddling with something on her phone, earbuds tangled in her fingers.
And once again—shorts.
Tiny ones.
This time paired with a cropped camisole that left her stomach bare, her belly button completely exposed.
I felt my dick stir in my pants.
For fuck's sake, this girl—
She seemed to realise my presence, and turned to look at me, eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint.
"Hi there." She gave me a small wave.
A frown etched over my face, my eyes darkening at her casual attitude.
Her brow arched as she took in my expressions. "Do you patrol the hallways now too? Or is this just fate working overtime to keep us bumping into each other?"
I took a step forward. "This isn't fate. It's you. Always showing up where you're not wanted."
She snorted, pushing her door open. "We do live under the same roof now."
I took another step closer, narrowing my eyes. "Not for long. You better watch out. I'll kick you out very soon."
Her lip curled up into a small, smug smirk, not in the least bothered. "I'd like to see you try, Zayden."
"Don't go around saying my name so casually." I warned with a glare.
Her smirk grew as she leaned in the doorway. "Why? It makes you feel things? The same way my clothes do?"
My eyes almost widened at her audacity. Her attitude. Her smugness.
"You don't make me feel anything. Stop flattering yourself."
She giggled smugly, before pointing with her gaze towards my pants. "The bulge in your pants disagrees."
My mouth dropped open, my gaze following hers to the very obvious bulge in my pants, leaving me dumbfounded and embarrassed.
Shooting me another smug look, she went inside her room, closing the door behind her.