Chapter 14

Olivia was always so soft-spoken that even her footsteps were silent. As the door handle began to turn, Isabella rushed over and held it firmly shut. If anyone saw her alone in the kitchen with Xavier this late at night, it would be a disaster. Xavier stood where he was, clearly amused by her panic. Unlike her, he didn't seem the least bit nervous. Failing to open the door, Olivia knocked. "Xavier? Is that you? I heard your voice. Who are you talking to in the kitchen this late?" Xavier folded his arms, raising an eyebrow at Isabella, whose heart was racing as she silently pleaded with him, hoping he'd get her out of this situation. After what felt like an eternity under her desperate gaze, he finally spoke up, "Yeah, Mom. It's me. I was just on the phone." He leaned against the table behind him, nonchalant as ever. "What are you doing in the kitchen at this hour?" Olivia asked, still puzzled and unwilling to leave. "Just getting some ice," he replied with his eyes fixed on Isabella, who looked uneasy. Olivia knew him well and decided not to press further. "Try to cut back on the ice. It's not good for you." "Got it." With that, he straightened up and began slowly walking toward Isabella. Her focus was entirely on the sounds outside, unaware of his approach. "Get your ice and head to bed soon," Olivia continued. "Okay," he answered, his pace deliberate. "I'll head upstairs. I should check on Isabella too—she tends to stay up late," Olivia added, almost as an afterthought. Isabella was now drenched in sweat. If Olivia went upstairs to check on her, she'd realize she wasn't in her room. Her door was still slightly open, making it impossible to even pretend she was asleep. "Alright," Xavier replied. As Olivia's footsteps faded, Isabella, now thoroughly flustered, hurried to open the door and leave. But as soon as she cracked it open, Xavier's hand—stronger than hers—reached over and slammed it shut again. She turned to look at him, panic written all over her face. It was only then that she realized how close he was. He leaned in, their faces inches apart, one hand still pinning the door closed, trapping her in place. His scent—a mix of citrusy body wash—filled the small space between them. As their faces got closer, she put her hand on his chest to stop him. "What are you doing?" she questioned, glaring up at him. Her resistance was futile. His face drew nearer, his presence overwhelming, until she could see every detail of his face, even the small mole by his eye, like a burning mark on her mind. Just as he was about to kiss her, she turned her head sharply to the side. "Are you insane, Xavier?" she muttered under her breath. Fortunately, he wasn't serious. He stopped just millimeters away from her lips. The tension between them was thick, their bodies too close for comfort, hearts pounding in sync. "I'm just giving you a heads-up," he whispered into her ear. She shot him an angry glance, realizing too late that he had only been teasing her the whole time. He continued, his tone mocking, "Next time, don't come running to me in the middle of the night. It could lead to... misunderstandings." Before she could respond, he smirked and added, "Oops! Almost got caught." Her heart skipped a beat. She'd forgotten that Olivia was upstairs looking for her. "You're the worst, Xavier!" she snapped, shoving him away with more force than she thought she had. He stepped back, giving her room to escape. The moment of closeness vanished, leaving her flustered and desperate to leave. She yanked the door open and bolted up the stairs. Behind her, he clicked his tongue in mild dissatisfaction, watching her rush off. He grabbed his water, now slightly diluted by the melting ice, and followed her at a more leisurely pace. He took a sip and grimaced. The sweetness was gone. Still, he didn't bother to get new water and casually headed upstairs. From a distance, he could hear Isabella explaining herself to Olivia with some flimsy excuse. He chuckled to himself. Too bad. He should've kept her trapped a little longer. The summer after their freshman year in college, Xavier and Isabella returned home to Canneville together. The night before, they'd stayed up drinking, having a great time, and hadn't slept a wink. Xavier, clearly worn out, pulled the curtain shut and put on an eye mask the moment they got on the plane. Most guys liked to show off their strength in front of women, but not him. He slumped over against Isabella's shoulder like a ragdoll, completely comfortable. Whenever she shifted uncomfortably, he'd complain, "Stop moving." They hadn't been dating long, and Isabella, still very much smitten, let him sleep soundly, not moving an inch. When they landed, he carried both of their suitcases without complaint, though it left him with no free hand to hold hers. So, he had her link arms with him as they walked. She complied but leaned in and whispered, "When we get in the car, we should act like we don't know each other." He frowned. "Why?" "Do you want Dad and Mom to know?" she asked. "Yes," he answered without hesitation. "We've only been dating for a short time. Our relationship is not stable yet, and I don't want them to know," she said, standing firm. "Then, you'll have to give me something in return." She stopped, took his wrist, and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Her face flushed with embarrassment at the public display of affection, while he remained completely unfazed. "That's it?" Xavier asked, unimpressed. "Not enough." "What do you want?" Isabella whispered, her voice barely audible. The airport was bustling with people, travelers pulling suitcases everywhere. They stood slightly off to the side, out of the main flow of traffic. He scanned the area casually, then leaned closer to her ear. "I didn't arrange for a driver." Her eyes widened. "What?" "I told Dad and Mom that we wouldn't be home until tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly. "So…" Before she could fully grasp what he meant, he added, his voice low and teasing, "You're staying with me tonight."