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“I’m not your girl,” I retort, my voice coming out sharper than intended. I really need him to stop calling me that.
He chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. “Oh, but you are, Aria. You belong to me, whether you like it or not.”
I swallow hard, trying to suppress the fear bubbling up inside me. “I belong to no one.”
His smile widens, a wolfish gleam in his eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.
Andrew has this uncanny ability to make me feel so small, so insignificant. When I’m around him, my usual fire flickers out. It’s like he has this power over me that I can’t shake off.
He has broken me.
I used to be strong, level-headed, a force to be reckoned with. Now, there’s only a fraction of myself left, clinging desperately to that sliver of sanity so I don’t lose myself completely.
But I decide to fight back a little.
I flinch away from his touch, skin crawling. “Don’t touch me,” I snap, taking another step back.
He laughs again, his amusement making my hairs stand on end. “Feisty as ever, I see,” he says, his tone mocking. “I like that in a woman.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, clenching my jaw. This isn’t the first time he’s said that. He may say he likes the rare times I answer back, but I know I need to get away from him before he decides I’ve overstepped. I also know he won’t make it easy.
“I want to take you for a little drive. Maybe get some dinner at my place.”
My pulse quickens. I’ve only been to his house a few times, with our families. I managed to avoid being alone with him there…until now. I know that it’ll eventually be my place too, but I’d rather not set foot there until I have to.
I yield, not wanting to argue with him or ruin his apparently good mood and hop into his car.
When we pull up to his house, I glance out at it. It’s just as I remember it. The exterior is neat but uninviting, lacking the warmth and charm I’ve grown up accustomed to. The facade is plain, with minimal landscaping and a monotone color scheme that fails to hold my attention.
Andrew opens my car door, and I step out, feeling a sense of unease. I feel chilly, even though it’s not particularly cold outside.
I follow him up the pathway to the front door, my footsteps echoing in the silence of the evening.
As we enter the house, I can’t help but notice again the contrast between Andrew’s home and Dion’s. It is stark and immediate, the interior cold and impersonal, with muted colors and sparse furnishings. There’s a lack of life, a sense of emptiness that weighs heavily on my heart. How am I supposed to ever feel comfortable here?
I can’t help but feel yet another wave of despair. This is not a place I can imagine myself ever calling home. It’s too...clinical, too devoid of personality. Just like the thought of Dion, it leaves me with a hollowness inside.
I crave the warmth and comfort of Dion’s home more, a place where I felt truly welcome and at peace.
Andrew snaps me out of my thoughts. “Are you hungry?”
I want to say no, but my stomach growls loud enough to alert the fucking neighbors. “I guess I am,” I say sheepishly. I’d rather not eat with him, though I can’t avoid it now.
As Andrew puts the moussaka in the oven, an awkward silence settles between us. I try to fill it with small talk, anything to break the tension.
“So, how was your day?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.
He shrugs. “Oh, you know, the usual. Busy.”
I nod, even though I have no idea what his usual day entails. “Right, right. Work stuff.”
The oven timer beeps, signaling that dinner is ready. Andrew takes out the steaming dish and places it on the table. “Help yourself.”
I nod again, forcing a smile as I serve myself a generous portion. The moussaka looks delicious, and it’s a relief to finally have something to distract me from the discomfort of the situation.
“It’s really good,” I say between bites, hoping to fill the silence with some semblance of normalcy.
Andrew mumbles something in response, but I can barely hear him over the sound of my own chewing. I take another bite, trying to focus on the taste of the food rather than the tension in the air.
