Chapter 2 – Awkward Encounters

The first day of “new normal” started with me tripping over my own shoelaces. Literally. As I carried my backpack down the marble staircase, my foot caught the edge of the last step.

I barely managed to grab the railing before I went flying. And of course… who else was there but Ethan.

“Smooth,” he said, one eyebrow raised as he watched me recover, cheeks flaming.

“Shut up,” I muttered, brushing imaginary dust off my jeans.

He smirked. “You’re cute when you’re clumsy.”

I wanted to slap him. I really did. But the way his smirk lingered… I felt my stomach do that annoying little flip.

Mom came bounding down the stairs. “Breakfast is ready, you two! You’ll need energy for the day!”

“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” I muttered, glaring at Ethan.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. We ate at the enormous kitchen island, and Ethan kept stealing glances at me from the corner of his eye, pretending not to notice. I pretended not to notice him noticing me.

After breakfast, we were “forced” into a family activity. Mom had decided it would be a good idea for Ethan and me to bond by unpacking boxes together.

“Nothing says bonding like unpacking boxes,” Ethan muttered as we carried a crate labeled Kitchen Stuff down the hall.

I rolled my eyes. “I would say nothing says bonding like torture, but sure, unpacking works too.”

We grunted as we carried it together, our hands brushing occasionally. Every brush of his skin sent sparks up my arm. I cursed silently under my breath.

“So… you like school?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but his eyes studying me like a puzzle he wanted to solve.

I blinked. “Uh… yeah. Mostly. I mean, I like learning, not… the social stuff.”

He smirked. “Sounds boring. I like… social stuff. And sports.”

I bit back a comment. “Yeah, well, not everyone wants to throw a ball around all day.”

“Not everyone?” He leaned slightly closer, tone teasing. “You mean you.”

I wanted to glare, but instead, I felt my face heat up. Great. Just great. My stepbrother was impossible.

The day didn’t get any easier. Every room I entered, he seemed to be there first—or somehow appear as if by magic. In the study, I opened a drawer to get a notebook, and there he was, leaning against the doorway.

“You really like invading my personal space,” I said, trying to sound annoyed.

He shrugged. “I call it… supervision.”

I groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “you keep talking to me.”

I froze. Did he just… notice that? I quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in my notebook.

Later, when I tried to sneak some alone time in the backyard, Ethan appeared there too, tossing a football casually in one hand.

“Can’t a girl get a little peace?” I asked.

“Peace is boring,” he replied. Then he tossed the ball to me. “Catch.”

I caught it, heart racing for reasons I refused to admit. “I don’t play football.”

“Then why’d you catch it so well?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but he was already walking closer, that irritating confident grin on his face. My pulse quickened.

We froze when our hands brushed while tossing the ball back and forth. Just a brief touch—but enough to make me acutely aware of him.

I muttered something about being late for unpacking and ran inside before I could embarrass myself further.

That night, after a day of awkward encounters, teasing remarks, and a dozen accidental touches, I lay in bed, replaying every interaction.

Ethan was infuriating. Arrogant. Annoying.

And somehow… impossible to stop thinking about.

I pressed my face to my pillow. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe he was a good guy. But good guys didn’t make you feel like your heart might explode from a simple brush of fingers.

I didn’t know what this summer held, but I knew one thing for certain: it was going to be full of… tension. Electric tension. And I had a feeling neither of us was ready to admit it.

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