The room was too quiet.
The open drawer behind me still hung ajar, like it was holding its breath.
And standing at the doorway—
Was Chase Everett.
Leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, like he'd been watching for a while.
His whole presence filled the room. Tall. Relaxed, but not lazy. His fitted black shirt clung to his frame, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, showing lean muscle and veins that looked like they could snap if he flexed wrong. His dark jeans were a little scuffed at the knees like he didn't care about keeping clean. And his boots? Heavy. Silent. Dangerous.
But it was his face that froze me.
The sharp cut of his jawline. The faint scar near his eyebrow. Eyes that looked silver one second and storm-grey the next—like lightning before a blackout. And his mouth, the worst part, curled into the kind of half-smile that made you feel like you'd just been dared to do something reckless.
He didn't blink neither did he look surprised.
"How long have you been creeping there?" I asked, standing up.
His eyes skimmed the room, then me. "Long enough to know you're terrible at breaking in."
"I didn't break in," I shot back immediately.
"You picked the lock?"
"The door was open."
"Wow. And here I was thinking you had actual skills."
I narrowed my eyes with a scoff."You done?"
He shrugged lightly."Depends. You done snooping through Spencer's underwear drawer?"
"It's not underwear—" I started, then stopped. "Forget it. I was looking for something."
"Oh?" His smirk grew. "Let me guess… tall, blonde, ego problem?"
"Funny."
"I try."
We just stared at each other for a second before his gaze dropped.
"What are you doing here?"
There was no shout. No accusing tone. Just that voice—quiet, calm, but heavy. Like a blade sheathed in velvet.
I froze, heart hammering in my chest.
My fingers gripped the cold chain behind my back tighter.
Say something. Say anything.
"I—I was just looking for something. Like I said before."I stammered, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. My words came out soft, almost pathetic, and it echoed weird in the silence.
Chase's eyes flicked from my face to the drawer, then slowly—so slowly—back to me.
"Something," he repeated, like the word itself tasted suspicious. "In Spencer's room. At 9 p.m. Really?"
His brow ticked, amused. "So you broke in? Cute."
"I said I didn't-"
Then his gaze slowly dropped—to my left hand.
The one behind my back. I quickly hid it but I knew I was just fooling myself.
"What's that?" he asked, casually. Too casually.
"Nothing."
"Nothing's making your knuckles go white?"
I shifted, hiding it behind my back. "You seeing things."
"Oh, I'm seeing plenty."
"Then keep your eyes to yourself, Everett."
He chuckled under his breath, coming closer."Don't lie to me. I can see a chain."Hand it over."
"Not a chance." I stepped back.
He tilted his head, still smiling but with that edge. "Don't make me take it."
I made the mistake of moving toward the door. Two steps in, his hand caught my wrist—fast, like muscle memory. His grip was cold, strong. Iron-like.
"Let go!"
"Give me the chain."
"No—"
And then it was gone from my hand, hanging from his fingers. With one swift pull, he yanked the chain from my hand and held it up in the air between us.
The silver glinted against the dim yellow light.
Number 15.
He turned it in the light with his lips curving."Number 15. Ambitious. Didn't think you were ready to play that high."
"Give it back." I tried to reach again, tilting my head back, only the tip of my finger brushed the chain. Only to realize I'd to stand on my toes to get past him. He was taller than I thought.
"Ask nicer."
I wanted to scream. Or punch him. Or both.
I glared, trying to calm my breath."Everett—"
Like a flash, he shoved the chain into his pocket."You really want Spencer coming for you?"
"I'm not scared of him."
"You should be."
"Why? You are not exactly is biggest fan?You scared of him?"
He smiled like I'd said something cute. "Not even a little. But that's not the point."
"Then what is?"
He stepped in, closing the space between us as his eyes stared at mine."You. Saying yes."
I blinked, trying to hide the flush in my face at the sudden closeness."To what?"
"To me."
What the -
I actually laughed with deep amusement."You're hilarious."
"Not joking."
"You want me to… what? Be your girlfriend?"
"Basically. My girlfriend."
"Basically?" I repeated, half-scoffing. "You're insane."
"Probably. But I'm also offering you a deal."
"Oh boy, here we go." I rolled my eyes with a huff.
"You say yes," he said, as his hands flicked out a hair at the side of my face."and I give you what you've been chasing since day one."
"What do you think I've been chasing?" I shot back, slapping his hands off.
He twitched his lips lightly stepping backwards. "A Number 5."
I froze as I stared at him, my eyes widen lightly as I let out a harsh scoff."Liar..."
"I don't lie. Often."
That was elite. Unreachable. The kind of rank people bled for. But why? I barely know this asshole.
I narrowed my eyes. "Why me?"
"Because you're not like the rest of them," he said. "You've got fire. You've got bite. I like bite."
"Sounds like you're shopping for a dog."
He grinned. "Maybe I am."
I rolled my eyes, with a glare."Pass. Other girls would love that."
"You've got three days."
"I'm not—"
"Three." His voice was soft, but it stuck. "You'll think about it." he leaned in,whispered
"I'll forget about it."
He started to turn away, smirking over his shoulder. "Sure you will. Good night, babe."
And then he was gone, boots thudding down the hall, leaving me with an empty drawer, no chain, and way too many questions. I clenched my fists in anger as I stared at the door.
Three days.
Three. And Chase Everett had just made himself my new favorite person to hate.
And I hated him for making me wonder—just a little—what would happen if I said yes.