Part One

•••

A sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, and I silently slip out of the warm covers, planting my feet on the plush carpet. I stand and tiptoe out of my room, careful not to make a sound as I descend the stairs into the kitchen.

The night air is cool, and I relish the cold tiles beneath my bare feet. The house is shrouded in darkness except for the silvery glow of the full moon, making everything eerily visible.

I open the fridge door, the soft hum breaking the silence, and grab a box of orange juice. Moving around the island, I retrieve a glass, pour the juice, and take a long, refreshing sip, savouring the tangy sweetness.

Just as I'm about to return the carton to the fridge, a figure appears at the kitchen entrance, startling me. I gasp as the glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor, orange juice splashing everywhere.

"Shit, Scott," I curse, my hand flying to my chest, feeling my heart pounding. I avert my gaze to the floor and sigh, bending down to pick up the shards of broken glass. "Don't creep up on me like that. It's not funny, especially in the dark."

Scott flicks the light switch, flooding the kitchen with a warm, yellow glow. I squint against the sudden brightness.

"Sorry," he apologises in a hoarse voice, a playful smile tugging at his lips, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. "I wanted a glass of milk. That party was insane."

I chuckle and nod. "Yeah, I can't even remember what happened," I admit, carefully picking up the shards.

Scott runs his fingers through his tousled hair. "Me neither. I think they drugged us," he says, laughing. "I didn't feel you in bed, so I thought you sneaked out or something. And maybe next time, use the light switch and avoid breaking things."

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Why would I sneak out of my own house at this hour? I prefer the dark. You know, vibing with my demons and all."

He folds his arms across his chest, and I try not to stare at how handsome he looks, all muscles and tan skin. "I don't know," he shrugs his broad shoulders, "just had a feeling. We both know you're scared of the dark, so vibing with your demons might be a bit tough."

"No, I'm not," I deny quickly, glancing up at him briefly — trying to avoid the intense pull of his gaze — in the brightly lit kitchen where Scott looks irresistibly appealing. "I was nine back then. You can't hold that against me. It's not fair."

"Oh really?" he challenges, stepping over the spilled juice and broken glass to grab a glass from the cupboard. "When we were fifteen, you called me to come over because you were scared of the dark. Does that ring a bell?"

"That was..." I trail off, searching for an excuse. "I wasn't thinking straight. But I'm definitely not scared of the dark. Every kid has fears, okay? Now go back to sleep, you're being an ass for bringing that up, knowing full well we vowed never to speak of it again."

There's no malice in my words, easing the tension that seems to rise. At least, for me. I have to ensure he never discovers how I truly feel about him. It's forbidden.

In the process of picking up the glass pieces — very smart of me to do that with bare hands — I manage to cut myself and curse as the blood oozes out of my hand.

"Don't touch it," Scott instructs as he steps forward and takes my hand in his, the warm feeling making my heart flutter, and I can feel the blood rushing up to my face.

Scott examines my hand, focused with a crease between his brows. "We should clean it up and disinfect it," he tells me, and I just nod.

I say nothing as he drags me to the sink and places my hand under the tap to wash away the blood. The physical contact sends unwanted shivers down my spine, creating goosebumps all over my skin.

He has a dangerous effect on me, and he is oblivious to it all. Thank God for that.

He turns around and rummages through the cupboards while I sit on the kitchen counter until he finds the first aid kit. When he comes back up, I try to hide my flushed face because both of us are still half-naked.

And hungover.

I try not to say anything else as he sways back and forth. His eyes are bloodshot, and I also try not to point that out. Something in the back of my brain tells me to come clean about my feelings, but my conscience screams at me not to, or this might not end well.

Taking a deep breath, I muster up the remaining courage I have left. "Scott, I need to tell —"

He cuts me off before I can say anything else. "It's okay, Zayn. Don't worry about it," he says with a dimpled smile. His brown eyes are so dark. "You worry too much, and that's what I like about you — you always put others' needs in front of your own. Let me take care of you for once."

I furrow my eyebrows as he dips a cotton ball into the alcohol and dabs my hand, causing me to inhale sharply. "You like that I worry? That definitely sounds like a bad thing," I reply with a chuckle. "I just like to help out where I can."

Chuckling as he still looks down at my hand, fully focused on fixing me up, he replies, "exactly, it's not a bad thing. I like it, especially if you have that crease on your forehead when you concentrate, or when you laugh your nose wrinkles, or when you bite your nails when you're nervous. It's cute."

He doesn't realise how hard he is making things for me. He is saying things that make my heart flutter every time. At this point, all I want to do is grab his beautiful face and smash my lips against his.

As soon as he is done, I still feel hot under his gaze. "Thanks," I say awkwardly, examining the bandage around my hand.

Looking up, he gives me his famous smirk, where the left side of his mouth is higher than the right. "You're welcome."

He scratches the back of his head. We are so close now, I can feel his breath fanning my face, his nose inches away from mine. I don't know about him, but there are definitely butterflies bursting inside me, making me feel giddy.

Both of us are slowly leaning in, and just as our lips are about to make contact, my arm accidentally hits the glass on the table, snapping both of us out of the intense atmosphere that's building up around us.

In that moment, I'm thankful that I knocked it over.

Scott catches the glass before it falls on the floor. Almost instantly, I miss the warmth of his body. I silently sigh and jump off the counter.

Making my way around the counter, I stroll out of the kitchen. Just as my foot steps onto the first stair, a muscular hand clasps my shoulder blade, and I turn around to look into his brown eyes.

Scott furrows his eyebrows, concern taking over his face. "You okay, bro?" he asks softly. "You're going to leave me with your demons? Not cool, man."

As soon as the question leaves his mouth, the walls I've built up come crashing down just like that. I shake my head. All my feelings I've buried feel so overwhelming.

And he's not making it any easier.

He gently grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms. Scott wraps his arms around my lower back. "Everything's going to be alright," he assures me, and I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He smells rosewood, it's a strong scent. I love it. Scott repeatedly runs his hand down my back and assures me that everything will be okay. I don't question him or try to fight against it.

Pulling away, I plant my hand against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under my touch. With all the courage I have left in me, I lean forward to place my lips on his.

His lips are soft and delicate. The peck only lasts two seconds because I want to test the waters.

Looking into his eyes, I swear I see lust in them. He doesn't say anything as we stare into each other's eyes. What surprises me the most is that he doesn't protest or push me away.

Opening my mouth to apologise for my actions, Scott's hand reaches behind my neck and pulls me close as he smashes our lips together.

I let out a startled moan because damn, this is sexy as hell. I feel a stir in my lower region, and I almost lose it when he swipe his tongue on my lower lip, asking for permission and I let him devour me.

Scott tastes like alcohol and mint. I'm sure I do too, but it doesn't stop me from wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. One of Scott's hands finds its way to my lower back and stops right above my ass.

Our tongues fight for dominance in our heated make-out session. Both of his hands cup my ass, and I let out a surprisingly soft groan because damn, he knows what he's doing.

He lifts me into his arms, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist — our lips never disconnecting. He walks back into the kitchen and sits me down on the counter.

I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him close. He lets out a groan, and I know I have him in the right place.

Right here, right now — all I want is Scott. All voices, doubts, and feelings fly out the window. He pulls at my bottom lip as he pulls away. Not wasting any time, he connects our lips once again.

With all this lust running through my veins, the voice in my head still manages to get through. I realise who he is. I shove him away from me as he stumbles back a bit. Both of us are out of breath, breathing heavily as we stare into each other's eyes.

We don't say anything.

His eyes seem darker than usual, and I swear I can see lust behind them. His hair is disheveled on top of his head, making him look hotter than he already is.

The atmosphere is really awkward now. The silence between us is deafening.

Scott jabs his thumb to the right, where his bedroom is located. "I should probably go to bed."

"Yeah." I laugh nervously, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

Fuck, I just had a heated make-out session with my sister's boyfriend.

It hits me like a truck, and guilt floods my senses. Scott looks at me with those piercing brown eyes, but I can't meet his gaze.

"We should go back to bed," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "Before anyone notices we're gone."

Scott nods, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, good idea."

We make our way up the stairs, the tension between us thick and heavy. As we reach the top, I pause, feeling the weight of what just happened.

"Scott," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "This can't happen again."

He looks at me, his eyes softening. "I know."

With that, we both slip back into our respective rooms. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events in my mind. My heart is a tangled mess of emotions, and I know things will never be the same again.

•••

A/N:

so what you think?