The silence in Liam’s mansion was starting to mess with my brain. Without Sophia around, the house felt too big, too quiet, and way too full of thoughts I was trying not to have.
Like the fact that Liam had walked in on me dancing. No twerking. On his kitchen counter. Of all the things I could’ve done hours ago.
Or the reality that I was now stuck here for three full days. Three long, slow, stormy days with Liam ck.
The rain hadn’t let up once. Water streamed down the towering windows like a slow–motion film reel, and thunder rumbled now and then as if the sky were clearing its throat.
I curled into one of the lounge chairs by the reading nook, flipping aimlessly through a book I wasn’t actually reading. My eyes were locked on my weather app
instead.
Still bad. No end in sight.
I groaned and tapped on Lisa’s contact.
If
anyone could talk me down from this emotional ledge, it was her.
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She answered on the second ring, already loud and buzzing. “Girl! You’re alive! I saw the flood alert.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Sort of. Emotionally drowning, but physically dry.”
“That sounds very you. Spill.”
I hesitated. Then before I could stop myself, “I kissed Liam ck.”
The line went silent for a beat too long.
Then she shrieked so loud I nearly drop my phone.
“WHAT?!” You kissed your boss?! How did that happen?!”
“It’splicated,” I groaned. “There was dancing. Alcohol. Rihanna. I twerked. Then he
kissed me.”
“Hold up. Alcohol and dancing? where was this?!”
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“The club. Liam’s sister dragged me out. And then Liam showed up. Things got blurry.”
“Wait, seriously. Liam has a sister?”
“Apparently,” I said slowly. “She likes to stay out of the spotlight.”
Lisa gasped. “Wow. And now what? Just awkward vibes and deep regret?”
“Oh no. That’s not even half of it.” I inhaled sharply. “I’m currently stuck in his house.”
“You’re WHAT?!”
“The storm got worse,” I said quickly. “I came here to cook. The roads flooded. I can’t leave. I‘ m stuck here. With him. For three whole days.”
“YOU’RE STUCK WITH LIAM BLACK IN HIS HOUSE FOR THREE DAYS?” she practically screamed.
“I’m not being held hostage. Just trapped by the weather.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “This is a disaster. How are you even going to survive that?”
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I groaned and flopped back on the bed.
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“Okay, calm down,” she said, lowering her voice. “It’s three days, not three years. You’ll survive.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I am helping. You’re spiraling. So stop. Just go with the flow. Flirt a little. Eat well. Pretend you’re the lead in some steamy Netflix series and act ordingly.”
I couldn’t help butugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m a genius. Keep your cool. And if he takes off his tie, I want hourly updates. Got it?”
I hung up smiling, like that would magically prepare me for the chaos ahead.
The rest of the day passed in strange, uneven waves of awkward tension and idental proximity.
We ran into each other too frequently for it to be idental. Passing in the hallway, Reaching for the same mug. Ilim catching me humming and rummaging through the pantry
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for chocte.
Each moment hung heavier than thest.
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By dinner, I’d just finished setting the table when Liam appeared in the doorway.
“I can serve yours in the study,” I said quickly, eyes fixed on the silverware.
“That’s unnecessary,” he said, stepping in. “We can share a table. It won’t kill us.”
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I nodded slowly, taking the seat opposite him. The space between us felt too wide and not wide enough all at once.
We ate in silence. Not angry exactly, just loaded. Like we were both teetering on the edge of a conversation neither of us was ready to have.
No one brought up the kiss.
Not yet.
Midway through the meal, my phone buzzed.
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A text from Sophia popped up my screen.
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Sophia:
Hey babe! Feel free to raid my closet. Especially the sexy stuff. The house deserves a little heat while I’m gone. Don’t forget to write down the juicy details.
I choked on my water so hard I nearly baptized my phone.
“Everything okay?” Liam asked, ncing up.
“Yeah,” I said, coughing into my napkin. “Just a funny text.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Boyfriend?”
I blinked. “What? No. I don’t have one.”
“Why not?”
I gave him a look. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, casual as anything. “You’re beautiful. I just assumed.”
My stomach did a weird somersault. “Did you just call me beautiful?”
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He didn’t even blink. “Even the blind could tell. So what’s your reason?”
My voice dropped slightly. “School. Life. I’ve just been busy.”
He nodded. “Makes sense.”
I studied him for a second. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”
He scoffed. “I don’t do girlfriends.”
“Oh, I see.”
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“Love. Labels. All of that. It’s a distraction. Romance is for people who haven’t figured out how fake it is.”
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I set down my fork. “That’s a little cynical.”
“It’s realistic.”
“No,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “It’s sad.”
He looked at me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.
“I’ve seen enough to know love is an illusion. People cling to it because they’re afraid of
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being alone. They romanticize pain and call it passion.”
I stared. “Wow. ”
Then he added, almost casually, “Romance is for na?ve girls.”
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I sat up straighter. “That’s one hell of a generalization. And kind of sexist, don’t you think?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sexist?”
“You said romance is for na?ve girls. Like women are the only fools buying into it.”
He didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, sharper now. Brittle.
He stood, pushed his chair back, slow and deliberate.
“Goodnight, Emily.”
He turned to leave, then halted like he’d thought better of it.
“Oh, and by the way…” His eyes flicked over the oversized T–shirt I’d changed into after
cooking. “That shirt? Kind of distracting.”
Before I could even process what he’d said, he walked away just like that.
Leaving me sitting there stunned
Heart racing.
Mind spinning.
And very, very awake.
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