The apartment was quiet again.
Celeste lay on her bed, one leg bent, arm slung across her forehead. Her suitcase sat half-unpacked by the closet, clothes spilling out like she couldn't be bothered to finish. The trip had been fun—loud, sunny and full of laughter.
She thought about Isadora's laugh.
About how close she sat to Ash in the car.
How Ash didn't pull away.
"Ugh," she groaned to herself, dragging her hands across her face. "Don't be dramatic. You didn't lose. You're still in the game."
Isadora was flirty—but Ash never flirted back. He never looked at her the way he did with Celeste, not even once.
She sat up, thirsty, and padded barefoot to the door. Oversized shirt. Shorts. No makeup. Just tired eyes and her usual confidence brewing under the surface.
The hallway was dim. And just as she stepped out…
Ash stepped out of his room too.
They both froze.
Celeste blinked.
He had clearly just showered—his hair was damp and pushed back, and he wore one of Rowan's oversized shirts, the sleeves falling past his wrists.
She swallowed her awkwardness and gave a lazy smile. "Oh? You're alive."
Ash looked startled for a second, then let out a breathy laugh. "I… yeah."
She tilted her head and walked toward the kitchen like nothing had happened. "Don't look at me like I'm a ghost."
His shoulders dropped—subtly, but it was there.
Relief.
He hadn't even realized how much the silence had weighed on him until now. All day, they hadn't spoken. Not a single word. And part of him thought—maybe feared—that things had shifted between them. That she might start pulling away. But here she was. Acting normal. Smiling at him. Still close. And just like that, something unspoken eased in his chest.
"Water?" she asked, already grabbing a glass.
He nodded. "Thanks."
Celeste passed him the glass, watching as he sipped it.
Then, slowly, she stepped closer—just a bit.
Ash glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"You're being quiet," she murmured, voice smooth. "Still thinking about that beach sunset… or something else?"
"I'm just… tired," he said, carefully, but the way he gripped the glass said otherwise.
She reached out—her fingers brushing his wrist lightly.
Just a feather of a touch. But it was enough to make him flinch.
"Celeste…"
"Relax," she said softly. "I'm just being the usual me, remember?"
"I know." His voice cracked slightly. "That's what scares me."
The sound of water running echoed from the bathroom—Rowan still showering.
"Hey, Ash…" her voice dipped lower, voice dark and syrupy.
He tensed. "Y-Yeah?"
She leaned close to his ear, breath brushing it. "Do you ever think about what I'd do if you let me… crawl on top of you?"
The glass in his hand nearly slipped.
Her lips barely touched his ear. "If I got on my knees and begged for your mouth… would you still act like you're innocent?"
Ash made a tiny, choked sound—half breath, half gasp.
His neck was burning.
Celeste grinned. "You'd be so good at it too," she murmured. "All soft… obedient… desperate."
Ash whirled around, face flushed scarlet. "C-Celeste—!"
But she only leaned back, lips still curved, eyes locked on him like he was already hers.
"You don't get to run away tonight," she whispered. "Not when I'm this hungry."
Ash stood frozen, unable to breathe, unable to speak. Her words kept echoing in his head, short-circuiting every excuse he had left.
Then, without a word, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Slow. Deliberate.
Ash's breath caught. "C-Celeste, stop—"
He reached out, instinctively trying to push her away—but she caught his hand before he could.
And then, with a wicked smile, she guided it forward—placed it gently against her breast
Ash froze. His whole body tensed.
His fingertips didn't move, but she didn't need them to.
She leaned in closer, lips near his ear. "Still pretending you don't want me?"
"Th-this isn't—" he choked, face burning, trying to breathe.
Celeste laughed, low and breathy. "Your hand's not moving, Ash. Should I take that as a yes?"
Ash's knees nearly buckled.
With a jolt, he finally pulled his hand back as if shocked.
"I—I need to go—" he stammered, voice breaking as he turned away, fleeing toward the hallway without another word.
The door to his room shut behind him.
Celeste stood still in the kitchen, a smirk tugging at her lips.
One step closer.
_____
Late night. Inside his room.
The door clicked shut behind him, but the silence in the room was anything but calming.
Ash leaned against the wall, eyes wide, chest rising and falling like he'd just sprinted a mile.
His hand—the one she touched—still tingled.
He brought it to his chest instinctively, as if holding it could erase the heat that still lingered in his palm.
"What the hell just happened…?"
His face was burning. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing properly. Her voice was still in his ear. Her warmth still pressed into his skin.
Still pretending you don't want me?
Her words repeated like a curse.
Ash closed his eyes tight, shaking his head, trying to will it all away.
"I'm not supposed to feel this way," he whispered to himself. "She's Rowan's sister… she's—Celeste."
But no matter how many times he repeated it, it didn't erase the way his body reacted.
Or how he didn't pull away fast enough.
Or how… deep down, part of him didn't want to.
He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly. "This isn't good."
But then he remembered the look in her eyes.
That wasn't teasing.
That was intention.
Deliberate.
Desire.
Ash moved toward the bed and collapsed face-first into the pillow. He didn't even bother to change clothes. Just curled up, knees tucked close to his chest, blankets barely covering his back.
"She's going to ruin me…" he whispered into the silence.
And the worst part?
A part of him… wanted her to.
_____