Chapter 6 her

Author's Note:

Guys... this chapter is hands down my favorite so far. It's so stinking cute, I can't even deal. Like, seriously—I'm melting. Read on to see why... OMG!!

Alex

✦

The screen door clicks shut behind her, and I'm left sitting by the fire, watching the embers crackle in the dark.

What just happened?

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my thoughts chasing each other in circles. That moment—God—it felt like we were about to kiss. I didn't imagine that, right? The way she looked at me, the way her voice softened when she talked about her playlists, the way her eyes lit up when I told her she had good taste. It wasn't just me... it couldn't be.

But it should be just me. She's my brother's girlfriend.

I rake a hand through my hair and stare up at the sky like it'll give me an answer.

Chelsea's always been cool. Quiet sometimes, but cool. And tonight—something was different. She let me see a version of her I don't think many people get to see. The one who organizes her playlists with actual cover art. Who writes poems and reads them out loud even when her voice shakes. Who hums to herself when she thinks no one's listening.

She's... layered.

And yeah, she's beautiful. Everyone sees that. But tonight I saw more.

I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of it. She's with Kethan. My brother. No matter how badly I wanted to lean in tonight—or how it felt like she wanted to, too—I can't go there.

I pick up a small stick and toss it into the fire, watching it curl and blacken in the flames. Something tells me this weekend's going to get a whole lot more complicated.

And I'm not sure I'm ready for it.

I finally push myself up from the stump, my back cracking slightly from sitting too long. The fire's burned low, just glowing coals now, and the night air's gotten colder. I step inside the cabin, quietly shutting the door behind me.

The kitchen light is on, humming softly, and there's Livia—head halfway in the fridge, looking for something.

She pops back up when she hears me, holding a can of whipped cream and grinning.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Hotshot himself," she teases, shutting the fridge with her hip. "Thought you disappeared on us."

I smirk. "Just needed air."

She walks toward me slowly, popping the cap off the whipped cream and spraying a little on her finger. "So... what were you and Chelsea talking about? Looked kinda intense from over here."

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just music. Poetry. Stuff."

"Deep boy," she says, raising a brow. "Hot and soulful? Dangerous combo."

I laugh under my breath. "You're ridiculous."

She leans in a little, eyes playful. "You know... if you ever need someone to talk lyrics with—or whatever—I'm around. Maybe we could make our own playlist sometime."

She gives a wink and walks past me toward the stairs, the whipped cream can still in hand.

I watch her go, shaking my head with a quiet chuckle. Livia's always been bold. But my mind's still stuck on someone else.

And that's the problem.

I head upstairs, the old wood creaking under my feet. Every step echoes more now that the cabin's quiet—like the whole place is holding its breath before the storm that is tomorrow's party.

My room's the last one at the end of the hallway. I open the door and shut it behind me gently, flicking on the bedside lamp. The soft amber glow spills across the room. I kick off my shoes, flop onto the bed, and let out a sigh that's been trapped in my chest all night.

Chelsea.

Why am I thinking about her like this?

I stare up at the ceiling, but all I see are those wide brown eyes catching mine in the firelight. The way her voice got soft when she talked about her poetry. How she perked up when I complimented her music taste. That outfit she wore earlier—God, that shouldn't be stuck in my head. But it is. And not because it was revealing. It was because she looked...sad. Distant. Like she was trying to be something she wasn't.

I rub my hands over my face.

She's with Kethan. My brother. And yeah, he can be a total ass sometimes—hell, most of the time—but Chelsea chose him. Right?

Still... something about the way she said "thank you." It wasn't just polite. It was like no one says that stuff to her. Like no one notices.

And I notice.

That's the dangerous part.

I roll over, trying to shut my mind off, but it's no use. Her voice, her laugh, even her damn playlist names keep circling my thoughts like a song stuck on loop.

I'm so screwed.

✦

I rub my eyes as I stumble through the hallway, the house quiet and dim. My room doesn't have a bathroom, so I head toward the one in the hall, the only light coming from the moon spilling through the cabin windows.

I twist the knob and push the door open, flicking on the light.

"Jesus—!"

Chelsea jumps and lets out a muffled yelp, yanking one of her AirPods out as her wide eyes meet mine.

"What the hell, Alex?!" she whisper-yells, clutching the blanket wrapped around her.

I put a hand on my chest. "What the hell me? You're the one camped out in the bathtub like some cryptid."

Her cheeks are flushed, probably from the volume of her music—and maybe a little embarrassment. Her phone is still glowing in her hand, her playlist clearly blasting.

"I—I didn't think anyone would be up," she says, voice quieter now. "I needed somewhere quiet... and warm."

I take a step into the room, still trying to process the scene. She's curled up in the tub with a thick blanket wrapped around her legs like a cocoon, AirPods in, hair a little messy, phone screen glowing against the dark. The music is still faintly audible from the other earbud.

My tone softens. "You okay?"

She doesn't answer right away, just shrugs and pulls her blanket a little tighter. I glance at the phone in her hand, the song title flickering across the screen.

"You do realize you scared the crap out of me, right?" I say, but it's gentle now, more teasing than annoyed.

Chelsea lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head. "Sorry. Guess this is my version of a panic room."

I lean against the doorway, watching her for a second. "Music still your escape?"

She nods. "Only thing that always listens."

I stare at her for a second longer, then point to the AirPod in her hand. "What song's on repeat tonight?"

She hesitates... then holds it out to me.

Next thing I know, I'm sliding down the tiled wall and into the tub beside her—blanket and all. It's not a big tub, so we're definitely close, knees brushing, and I feel the static buzz of how aware I am of her.

The soft, dreamy intro of "Reflections" by The Neighbourhood seeps into my ear. The kind of song that feels like it could stop time. We sit in that quiet, glowing bathroom, cocooned in music, the world muffled and distant.

Then Chelsea lets out a little laugh.

I glance over, and she's trying not to snort. "What?" I say, nudging her knee.

"It's just... this is so weird. We're literally sharing AirPods in a bathtub. Like, are we twelve?"

I laugh too, and it feels easy. Real. "Nah, twelve-year-olds don't have this level of emotional damage," I joke, and she full-on laughs at that, covering her mouth.

We keep listening, the beat pulsing through us, and she starts quietly singing along to the lyrics. Her voice is soft, kind of raw but beautiful. I don't even think she realizes she's doing it.

"You really do have a playlist for everything," I say, and she grins, cheeks flushed.

"I told you," she says, looking over at me. "There's a song for every moment."

I nod, and I feel myself lingering on her expression longer than I should—her messy hair, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, how the glow of her phone screen makes her look almost dreamlike.

She catches me looking.

"Hey," she says, voice quieter now. "Thanks for... not making me feel weird."

"You? Weird?" I smirk. "Only slightly."

She bumps my knee with hers, and we sit there a moment longer, just two kids hiding from the chaos in the safest place we could find—a bathtub, a blanket, and one AirPod each.

I glance down at her phone screen, the playlist changing, and "Nights Like This" by The Kid LAROI starts to play. The vibe shifts—still soft, still intimate, but heavier somehow. Moodier. More vulnerable.

I tilt my head, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

"You said you have a song for every moment," I say quietly. "So why this one? Why now?"

She doesn't answer right away.

She's still for a second, fingers playing with the frayed edge of the blanket wrapped around her. I can hear her breathing more than I can see her face, and when she finally speaks, her voice is so low I almost don't catch it.

"Because I feel it," she says. "Like... loneliness, I guess. You ever feel that? Like, you can be in a room full of people—even people who are supposed to love you—and still feel like no one actually sees you?"

Her words settle in my chest like smoke.

She pulls one knee up to her chest, resting her chin on it, staring ahead at nothing.

"I don't know," she continues, "I guess I just... I yearn for something. Real. Safe. Something that makes the loneliness shut up for a second."

I look at her—really look at her—and she's not the confident, put-together Chelsea everyone thinks they know. She's raw. Like a person trying to hold herself together with tape and poetry and music.

"Yeah," I say finally. "I get that."

She turns her head toward me, like she didn't expect me to actually relate.

"I feel that way a lot too," I admit. "Like I'm on the outside of everything, watching everyone else just... live. Like they have some manual I didn't get."

A soft smile tugs at the edge of her lips, and she blinks a few times like she's surprised tears aren't falling.

"Music makes it feel less loud," she whispers.

"Yeah," I nod. "And sitting here with you does too."

Her eyes snap to mine—startled, maybe. Or maybe just unsure how to take it.

But she doesn't pull away.

Instead, we sit in that silence again, but this time it feels full. Like something understood. Shared.

One AirPod. One song. One truth.

And maybe, just maybe... two people who needed someone to sit in the dark with them for a while.

The lyric cuts through the quiet like it was written just for this moment:

"And it's nights like this when I need your love..."

We both hear it. Feel it. The words float between us like a secret we were never supposed to say out loud.

I glance at her. She's already looking at me.

Neither of us moves at first. It's just the song, and the closeness, and the hum of something we've been ignoring—trying to, anyway.

But then I notice it—her breathing shifts. The air changes.

We're sitting close already, but it's like gravity's got other plans now. Like the universe just tilted slightly and now we're... slowly... inching toward each other. Barely noticeable at first. A lean here. A glance there. My knee brushing hers.

I swear I don't know who moves first, or maybe we both do at the same time—but her face is closer. My hand brushes hers. Her lips part just the tiniest bit, and everything inside me locks onto her.

My heart's beating louder than the music.

And then... we're kissing.

Slow. Soft. Like we're testing the moment—seeing if it's real.

Her lips are warm and hesitant, but they linger like they've been waiting. And mine?

Mine are saying I see you.

It's not desperate or rushed—it's delicate, careful, like we both know this is a line we're crossing and there's no pretending we didn't.

When we finally pull back, barely an inch apart, her eyes meet mine—wide, unsure, but not afraid.

She whispers, "Alex..."

And all I can do is whisper back, "Yeah?"

Because now I can't stop thinking about what this means. What it changes. And what happens next.

She's still looking at me. Eyes flicking between mine and my mouth. Her lips are pink, a little parted like she's about to say something—but doesn't.

I'm the one who breaks the silence first.

"I—uh... I didn't mean to... cross a line," I say quietly, my voice low. "If I did, just tell me."

She shakes her head, so small, like she's not sure if she's allowed to admit the truth yet. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"No. You didn't." She swallows. "I just... I don't know what this is."

I nod. I get it. I do. But I can't lie either. "I've been thinking about you. For a while."

She lets out the smallest breath, like I caught her off guard. Then she says, "You're Kethan's brother."

"Yeah." I pause. "But I'm also me."

We're quiet again. Not awkward, just... heavy.

Then she says, "I shouldn't be here right now. Like this."

"Then why are you?" I ask gently, not accusing, just... curious.

She hesitates. Her hands fidget with the blanket around her. "Because I feel safe here. With you. And I don't... I don't get to feel that very often."

That hits something deep in me.

I don't push. I just reach out slowly and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches. And it kills me how tender she looks in this moment—fragile, like someone who's been pretending to be okay for way too long.

"You deserve to feel safe all the time, Chelsea."

Her eyes well a little—not quite tears, but close enough to make my chest ache. "You don't know what my life is like, Alex."

I nod again. "Then tell me."

She bites her lip. Looks away. Then back. "Not tonight."

"Okay," I whisper. "Whenever you're ready."

She leans her head on my shoulder, and we just sit there. In the dim glow of the bathroom light, the music still humming through the AirPod I forgot I was even wearing.

And it's nights like this when I need your love...

Yeah. Me too.