Before she knew it, Lia was in Ethan's hands, still smelling faintly of his clean, fresh-basketball scent mixed with a hint of cologne—masculine, safe, and a little overwhelming.
When he carried her to her apartment, he gently placed her on the bed, adjusting the blankets so she would be comfortable. The apartment was cozy and tidy, just as she had left it.
Ethan stepped into the kitchen, opening the fridge. He raised an eyebrow at the half-empty containers. "Really, princess? This is what you eat?" he muttered, shaking his head. "No wonder you fainted yesterday…"
He rolled up his sleeves, determined to take care of her. Soon, the kitchen smelled heavenly as he prepared:
Cola chicken with vegetables,
Garlic butter pasta,
Vegetable soup,
Freshly baked chocolate muffins,
Just as he finished arranging the dishes, Lia tried to get up, thinking she could grab a bite herself. But her ankle throbbed painfully. She twisted it again and screamed, "Ahhh! Boohoo!"
Ethan spun around instantly. In one smooth motion, he lifted her in his arms, steady and unshakable.
Lia instinctively hugged his neck, flustered. "Let me go, you baddie!" she whispered.
"What do you even eat?" Ethan teased. "You look slim, but you're… like a panda."
She scowled, but he ignored her, carrying her to the dining table and seating her comfortably. The table was set like a feast, each dish perfectly arranged.
Lia stared at the food, overwhelmed. "Wow, who made it". "me"Ethan said. Her hands clasped together, and she whispered a tiny prayer, almost under her breath:
"God… please… I don't want to die yet. Please let me eat safely…"
Ethan froze, looking at her curiously. "What… are you saying?" he asked, tilting his head, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
Lia's face flushed bright red. "I… uh… nothing! Just… you know…" She waved her hands nervously, embarrassed.
Ethan chuckled softly, leaning closer. "You prayed before eating? Really, princess? You do know I'm right here, right?"
Lia groaned softly but couldn't stop the small laugh escaping her lips. Her nervousness melted slightly in the warmth of his teasing.
Gathering her courage, she finally picked up a fork and took a bite of the cola chicken. Her eyes widened—the flavor was perfectly juicy, sweet, and savory all at once. She let out a satisfied sigh, smiling as she started eating like she hadn't eaten in days.
Ethan watched her, mesmerized. She looked so alive, so cute, that he couldn't help himself—he reached over and pinched her cheeks lightly.
"Don't you dare!" Lia warned, but her lips betrayed a small smile.
"Too late, princess," Ethan said, mischievously. "You're too cute to resist."
Lia rolled her eyes, still giggling, but a fluttering warmth filled her chest. Even tired and hurting, she felt a strange joy—a feeling she didn't want to ignore.
After a while, she leaned back, stuffed from the delicious food. "God… you really made all this?!"
Ethan shrugged casually. "Yeah… and if you think I'll let you faint again, you're wrong."
Lia's cheeks tinged pink. "You're… terrifying."
"And you're adorable," he muttered quietly, almost too softly for her to hear.
Her heart skipped a beat. She looked at him, flustered, unsure whether to be annoyed or captivated. But with her ankle throbbing and her stomach finally full, she decided to enjoy the moment—even if Ethan kept teasing her relentlessly.
, rubbing her full stomach. "Oh… wow. I… I didn't know food could taste this good," she murmured, almost dreamily.
Ethan grinned, leaning against the counter. "I told you, princess. You just had to let me cook."
Lia's eyes darted to him, half-smiling, half-flustered. "You really… really made all this?"
"Every single bite," he said, with that confident glint in his eyes. "And I won't let you faint on me again, either."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"Maybe. But you love it," he teased, moving toward the sink to start cleaning.
Lia watched him, fascinated by the way he handled the dishes—careful, precise, but somehow casual, like he'd done this a hundred times before. She felt a little flutter in her chest just watching him.
When he reached for a plate she had just finished, their hands brushed lightly. Both of them froze. Lia's face flushed red, and Ethan's smirk softened into something almost unreadable.
"Uh… sorry," Lia whispered quickly, pulling her hand back, though she secretly hated that she had.
Ethan didn't respond at first, just stared at her for a beat, then shook his head and chuckled softly. "Relax, princess. I'm not going to bite."
"I… I wasn't—" she started, but he interrupted, leaning slightly closer.
"Of course you weren't," he said teasingly, his voice low. "But you're cute when you panic."
Lia groaned, hiding her face in her hands, but a laugh escaped her. "You're awful, you know that?"
"I know," he replied, reaching for another plate, his hand brushing hers again, this time intentionally. "But you're adorable, and I can't help it."
Her stomach did a flip, and she realized just how close he was—close enough that she could feel his warmth, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with that fresh-basketball smell that seemed to follow him everywhere.
Ethan placed the cleaned dishes back in the cupboard, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Finish your rest, princess. I'll make sure everything's neat, and then… well, I might have to supervise you getting around this apartment, too."
Lia's eyes widened, and she whispered, "Supervise me?"
"Yes," he said, smirking again. "Because apparently, you can't walk without almost dying."
She groaned but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "I swear… you're enjoying this too much."
"I am," he admitted simply, and for a moment, the apartment was filled with the soft warmth of lingering laughter, teasing glances, and that strange tension between them that neither could ignore.
Lia leaned back against the chair, letting herself relax just a little more, while Ethan finished tidying up, every now and then sneaking a glance at her, clearly enjoying just watching her be herself—flustered, silly, and ridiculously cute.
After Ethan finished tidying up, Lia tried to stand again, wobbling on her swollen ankle. "I… I think I can make it to the couch," she muttered, more stubborn than cautious.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Princess, don't even think about it." Before she could protest, he stepped forward, caught her by the waist, and lifted her effortlessly, holding her against him.
Lia froze, her face flushing bright red. "Ethan! Put me down!" she whispered, though secretly, she didn't mind being that close.Ethan noticed how small and delicate Lia's waist was, fitting perfectly in his hands, soft and fragile, making him feel a protective closeness he couldn't ignore.
"I will, but not until I'm sure you won't collapse again," he said, grinning down at her. "You really are reckless, you know that?"
"I… I just—" she started, but his hand brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, and she stopped, mesmerized. Her heart raced.
He set her gently on the couch, her ankle supported by a pillow. Then he leaned slightly closer, tilting his head in that mischievous, teasing way only he could pull off. "You're too cute when you're stubborn," he murmured.
Lia groaned softly, hiding her face in her hands. "You're enjoying this way too much," she whispered, though the small smile betraying her flustered delight gave her away.
Ethan chuckled. "Maybe. But it's hard not to, princess. You're adorable and completely impossible at the same time."
She peeked through her fingers, glaring at him. "I swear… one day, I'll get back at you."
"Sure, princess," he said with a soft smirk. "But for now, just enjoy being taken care of. And eat your soup before it gets cold."
Lia leaned back, finally relaxing. The warmth from the soup, the soft hum of the apartment, and Ethan's presence made her feel safe… and a little dizzy from how close he was.
As she ate, Ethan continued to glance at her, every now and then brushing imaginary crumbs off her lap, teasing her just enough to keep her heart fluttering. It was cozy, tense, flirty, and completely impossible to ignore—the kind of quiet moment that lingered in her mind long after the last bite.
Lia was finally settled on the couch, finishing her soup when Ethan's phone buzzed sharply on the counter. He picked it up, frowning slightly. He glanced at the screen and saw his dad calling. He answered, frowning.
Ethan: "Hello, Dad. What's up?"
Mr. Carter: "Ethan… I need you to start seeing Madison. Make her your girlfriend."
Ethan: "Wait… what? Why? We're just friends."
Mr. Carter: "Ethan! Don't argue. This is about family business. Your connection with her could help strengthen our deals. I need you to play along—just for now."
Ethan: "You're asking me to… pretend? With Madison?"
Mr. Carter: "Exactly. Appearances matter. And don't make it complicated—you know how your mother is."
Ethan: sighing "Fine… but Dad, this doesn't change anything with… other things. I don't want to hurt anyone."
Mr. Carter: "I know, son. Just… handle it smartly. Your family trusts you to manage it."
Ethan: "Alright… I'll do it. But don't expect me to enjoy it."
Mr. Carter: "Good. That's my boy."
"It's my dad," he muttered, answering quickly. Lia watched him from the couch, her eyes heavy with sleep and food.
Ethan said, his tone calm but firm. As he listened, his eyebrows furrowed. "Okay… I understand… I'll handle it." He ended the call and let out a long sigh.Ethan ended the call and ran a hand through his hair, frowning. Pretend girlfriend… really? His mind immediately flicked to Madison, smiling politely, always so proper and calculated. Great… just what I need.
But then his thoughts shifted—and Lia. He remembered the way she had looked at him yesterday, fragile yet fiery, trusting him in ways no one else did. The warmth of her small, delicate waist pressed against his hands, the faint scent lingering… it made something tighten in his chest.
How am I supposed to pretend with Madison when my mind keeps replaying her face? Ethan muttered to himself, a mix of irritation and awe swirling inside him. I can't lie to my dad, but I also… I can't stop thinking about Lia.
He glanced at the empty space where Lia had been sleeping, her presence still haunting him. This is going to get complicated… real complicated.
Lia stirred slightly, blinking sleepily. "Who was that?" she asked, her voice soft and tired.
"My dad," Ethan replied casually, though there was a hint of tension in his eyes. "Apparently, he wants me to go on a… meeting with Madison." He frowned slightly. "He wants me to… you know, get close to her. Business family stuff. Basically, he thinks it's smart to build connections through… pretending relationships."
Lia blinked, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch in surprise. "Pretending relationships?" she repeated, half-amused, half-confused.
Ethan ran a hand over his face, clearly annoyed. "Yeah… and I was planning to tell you about pretending to be my girlfriend… just to keep up appearances. But now…" He looked over at the couch, where Lia had slowly drifted into a peaceful, soft sleep. Her head rested against the pillow, her hands loosely folded on her stomach, her breathing calm and steady.
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Ethan's lips. "Not today," he muttered under his breath. "You look too peaceful to wake up… I'll tell her another day."
He leaned against the counter, watching her quietly. Even knowing he had a tricky situation with Madison and his dad's plans, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. For now, the apartment was calm, warm, and filled with that strange, cozy tension that neither of them could explain.
Ethan finally decided to make himself a cup of tea, silently glancing at her every few seconds. The thought of explaining the "pretend girlfriend" situation could wait. For now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment of quiet with Lia, even if it was only from across the kitchen.
🌹💕
Lia, feeling a little braver after finishing her cola chicken, tried to get up. "Maybe I can… help a little," she muttered, limping toward the kitchen, wincing with every step.
Ethan was already there, wiping the counter with a towel. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "Princess, are you seriously trying to walk on that foot? You'll end up in a cast, and then I'll never let you out of my sight again."
Lia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not a child! I can manage."
He smirked. "Oh really? Last time I checked, you nearly fainted from a tiny allergic reaction and almost died from your own ankle."
She groaned but continued hobbling toward the sink. Ethan shook his head and stepped closer, blocking her path. "Sit. Seriously. You're going to hurt yourself again."
"I… I just wanted to… help!" she protested, trying to hide how her heart was fluttering at how close he was.
Ethan leaned in slightly, his gaze teasing, and whispered, "You really are hopelessly stubborn, aren't you?"
Lia's cheeks burned bright red. "I'm not—" she started, but he interrupted with a small, amused chuckle.
"You are," he said simply, shaking his head. Then, with a sigh, he picked up a small saucepan and started heating some vegetable soup, moving like he owned the kitchen—and the apartment.
Lia watched him, fascinated. The way he moved, the confident tilt of his head, even the way his muscles flexed slightly as he stirred—it was hard not to stare.
Finally, Ethan turned and caught her looking. "What? Are you imagining me feeding you with a spoon?" he teased.
"No! I… I wasn't—" Lia stammered, looking away.
He smirked knowingly. "Uh-huh… sure."
To distract her—and maybe tease her further—he set the soup on the table and added a small garnish of fresh herbs, just the way she liked it. Then he gestured for her to sit.
"You eat first, princess. I'll handle the rest," he said, his voice low and gentle, but the smirk never leaving his lips.
Lia finally sat, her heart racing. She took a careful sip of the soup—it was warm, comforting, and perfect. She looked up at him, almost shyly, and whispered, "Thank you…"
Ethan's smirk softened into a small, genuine smile. "You're welcome. But next time, don't pray before every meal, or I'll start thinking you only survive because of divine intervention."
Lia couldn't help it—she laughed, a soft, breathy sound that made Ethan's chest tighten slightly. "Maybe I do!" she teased back.Lia, feeling a little braver after finishing her cola chicken, tried to get up. "Maybe I can… help a little," she muttered, limping toward the kitchen, wincing with every step.
Ethan was already there, wiping the counter with a towel. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "Princess, are you seriously trying to walk on that foot? You'll end up in a cast, and then I'll never let you out of my sight again."
Lia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not a child! I can manage."
He smirked. "Oh really? Last time I checked, you nearly fainted from a tiny allergic reaction and almost died from your own ankle."
She groaned but continued hobbling toward the sink. Ethan shook his head and stepped closer, blocking her path. "Sit. Seriously. You're going to hurt yourself again."
"I… I just wanted to… help!" she protested, trying to hide how her heart was fluttering at how close he was.
Ethan leaned in slightly, his gaze teasing, and whispered, "You really are hopelessly stubborn, aren't you?"
Lia's cheeks burned bright red. "I'm not—" she started, but he interrupted with a small, amused chuckle.
"You are," he said simply, shaking his head. Then, with a sigh, he picked up a small saucepan and started heating some vegetable soup, moving like he owned the kitchen—and the apartment.
Lia watched him, fascinated. The way he moved, the confident tilt of his head, even the way his muscles flexed slightly as he stirred—it was hard not to stare.
Finally, Ethan turned and caught her looking. "What? Are you imagining me feeding you with a spoon?" he teased.
"No! I… I wasn't—" Lia stammered, looking away.
He smirked knowingly. "Uh-huh… sure."
To distract her—and maybe tease her further—he set the soup on the table and added a small garnish of fresh herbs, just the way she liked it. Then he gestured for her to sit.
"You eat first, princess. I'll handle the rest," he said, his voice low and gentle, but the smirk never leaving his lips.
Lia finally sat, her heart racing. She took a careful sip of the soup—it was warm, comforting, and perfect. She looked up at him, almost shyly, and whispered, "Thank you…"
Ethan's smirk softened into a small, genuine smile. "You're welcome. But next time, don't pray before every meal, or I'll start thinking you only survive because of divine intervention."
Lia couldn't help it—she laughed, a soft, breathy sound that made Ethan's chest tighten slightly. "Maybe I do!" she teased back.