***hi, y'all! it's your author girl here. hope you're doing great. just popped up here (out of nowhere but okay) to mention a thing about the book from this point not being edited to perfection. i repeat, the chapters henceforth are NOT edited. by that, i mean that they are in past tense and not present like i being the super jobless person i am have taken up the task of converting. except chapter 13 and 15 which i edited while contemplating my existence so... i'm still working on these few leftover chapters, but i must warn you about my edits being very slow and sporadic. you can read them the way they are, though. i don't think the grammar and spelling errors are so much that your eyes will bleed, hehe. thank you so much for the endless support and love, i'm eternally grateful! ❤***

e i g h t || Silly Banters and Fiery Eyes

|25th January 2019|

"Are you sure?" Mr. Nithercott inquired, his voice seeking confirmation for the second time since the past one minute.

"Yeah, I've checked everywhere. Everybody's left." I passed him an assuring smile before collecting my phone from the glass table standing beside me to book myself a ride back home.

It's past one in the morning, and despite me informing the two children (one actually being an immature adult) at home beforehand itself that this is a multimillionaire's son's engagement party and that I'd be late, I've already received thirteen calls from them demanding about my whereabouts. I guess they're just worried about me because as it so happens, this is one of those rare parties for which I had to stay away from home even after twelve. I was waiting for the Uber app to load its available services when Mr. Nithercott's voice caught my attention. "How are you returning home, Celeste?" he queried.

After the incident by the pool− the one where he had helped me hack into his son's emotions behind his (the son's) back, he'd started addressing me by my first name, making me develop a rather personal fondness towards him. "A cab. I'm booking one now," I said, sending him a small smile.

"Nonsense!" he disagreed, the lines on his wrinkled forehead becoming prominent. "No way you're returning home with a stranger."

I compressed an eye roll. Just so you know, that's exactly how I've been traveling my whole life− with strangers. "A licensed driver who is being tracked all the time can be trusted, Mr. Nithercott." I corrected him. What, am I supposed to fly my way back if not return with a driver?

He rolled his eyes at my accuracy. What's up with the members of the Nithercott family disregarding my viewpoints all the time, eh? "Elliot will drop you off," he announced calmly as if it was no big deal. Then, he turned towards Elliot and threw a look at him that left his son with no choice apart from agreeing. "Won't you, son?"

Instantly, my eyes flew to Elliot's face only to find a dumbfound look decorating it. I knew he would never agree to drop me, and even if because some rare miracle happened to him, he agreed to be nice (I still haven't been able to accept the fact that he sang with me today) and drop me back home, I would disagree, because I'd rather go home with a drunk cab driver than him.

Yeah, well, I know we can be friends and all cause you know, a good friendship with your ex never hurts, but friends only. Who knows what might happen on the way with him. I mean, it's Elliot we're talking about, okay? That guy over whom any girl can swoon− myself included, and I ain't planning on losing the last bit of sanity I have left tonight. "No, it's alright, I can−" I started opposing his idea when he cut me off.

I swear to God, this is too much. Never in my whole life, not even when I had taken part in the inter-school JAM competition back in tenth grade had I been cut off so many times by my opponents.

"Son." Mr. Nithercott emphasized, trying to shoo his adopted son away with his eyes. You're definitely over-estimating yourself with Elliot, Mr. Nithercott. Trust me, my glares work with everyone except him.

He turned back to me. "Ms. Wilson!"

"Sir?"

He wriggled his wrinkled fingers, motioning me to come closer, and when I am close enough to be the only one who can hear what he was going to whisper next, "Did you forget? Play by the odds."

A grin lit my face as I repeatedly snapped my fingers. Game on, right. "Ah, right!" I whisper-exclaimed, giving him my best toothy smile.

He smiled back, and I walked past him and towards Elliot. With my gaze fixated at my well-polished nails, I asked him, "Aric, do you know what the time is?"

He spared a glance at the watch hugging his hand. "One twenty-eight?" he quizzed back.

It was now that I slowly, dramatically even, looked up so his confusion-laced eyes could meet my puppy ones. I'm a huge drama queen at heart, soul, and body, I know. "You know what sorts of dreadful dangers I'll be exposing myself to by going out with that unknown, untrustworthy cab driver?"

He rolled his eyes, not taking very long to realize what I was playing up to. I wasn't surprised though, I'd used the same trick on him on multiple occasions even before we had started dating as an excuse to buy myself some more time with him. "Fine, come along," he said, pulling me by my elbow, towards the door.

Oh, aren't we getting all touchy?

I subtly moved away from him, and I think he didn't even realize that I did so, or maybe he did but didn't say anything because he had had his fair share of my dramatics to last him a year.

Just when we were passing by the archway that led to the beautiful lawn outside the mansion, I turned around to throw a wave at Mrs. Nithercott and a wink at Mr. Nithercott. That good old man knows well how to grasp opportunities like these. I might just ask him to tutor me in the field of his unique life-conquering strategies some fine day.

We made it to Elliot's Convertible and he unlocked the automated dark piece of metal, and unlike the last time when I had refused to oblige to his order about me sitting in the passengers' seat, I willingly sat in the said seat, catching him off-guard.

"I thought you'd wanna sit back," he commented, slightly amused.

He took his blazer off and dumped it in the backseat. My eyes absentmindedly moved from his face to the dark turtle neck defining his body structure, and for a second, or probably two, a thin coat of desire clogged all the sensible parts of my brain.

I gulped, turning my gaze towards the road before he could catch me hopelessly wishing I could replace Olwyn's role in his life (ironic because I wanted to be 'just friends' not long ago), with him being happy with the marriage, of course, and said, "Don't waste your energy thinking too much. You won't be able to predict me even after years of training,"

A mocking chuckle erupted from him as he pulled his car out of the parking lot. "The reason you wouldn't take years to be predicted is 'cause the maximum even a person with a malfunctioning brain and terrible eyesight would take to predict you are a few hours."

I turned to him now, my eyes threatening to kill him with their non-existent laser powers. I swear to God, if I was Superman, Elliot would be the Lex Luthor I'd burn to ashes. "Did you just define me predictable?"

Now he would not dare agree with me, I thought smugly.

But oh boy, I was so wrong. Because not even a nanosecond had passed when he replied to my question, his lips curling inwards to conceal his rare smile, "Yes."

He said it after all, didn't he?

"So be it." I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and pouting like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Is my competitive nature really at fault here? Anybody would hate it when their ex-fiancee who played the role of his/her arch-nemesis for a while and then a soon-to-be-friend held the upper hand in any situation− regardless of how right they were. "But don't forget that you'd once fallen in love with this very predictable person," I muttered angrily.

My irritation was getting to my head− explaining a lot why I was blabbering without a filter. Still, had I known that Elliot would react so histrionically, I wouldn't have put my words out so bluntly. Perhaps be a little subtle and all, because the next thing I knew, he was choking on air, leading to himself failing miserably at managing the steering wheel.

Luckily, I managed to take over the wheel just in time and parked the car in a corner on the empty road, saving both of us a bloody mess and a police investigation.

Awesome, aren't I?

But I was more shocked than proud of my accomplishment. And that's merely because I− the girl who literally fears driving any four-wheeled vehicle has finally gained control over them. I, the girl who used to be forced by Elliot to drive at least twice a week so I could get over my fear of crashing into anything and everything, has finally managed to prevent a crash.

Maybe, just maybe, this car drive is going to yield something more than just satisfaction borne from irritating Elliot.

Maybe even I can drive someday.

Yeah, some very fine day, I thought happily.

His whole composure calmed after I passed him a bottle of water from the back seat. As he continued to drink the contents in the most worth-wasting-time-by-staring manner, with his Adam's apple bobbing at every gulp and his lips clamping lightly over the mouth of the bottle, my eyes involuntarily moved to his ring finger, only to find it empty.

In the name of Hell's bells, where's his engagement ring?

With my eyes wide as the sky, I exclaimed, "Where's your ring?"

He had it on throughout the party because I clearly recall feeling covetous after seeing it. Did it fall off somewhere after the party ended? Probably, I thought.

However, unlike me, he seemed unfazed about the loss. "That's none of your business." he snapped rudely, all signs of the playful version of him escaping my vision without a second glance.

I didn't take his words to heart because of three reasons: One, I was really very tired. Two, I was sort of happy he didn't have it on because that further proved my point about this marriage being a hoax. And three, I knew he didn't mean what he said. The few noticeably intimate moments we shared tonight were enough to provide justice to my thoughts that it is a part of my business.

"Alright, suit yourself, you snippety snapper." I snapped back.

He screwed the cap back over the bottle. "Final warning; shut yourself up because if you don't, then I'll resort to shutting you up with my ways, and trust me, you don't want that to happen." he retorted, putting the car back on the road.

Wanting to know what he had on mind, I prodded, "Actually, I have a small, teeny-tiny doubt." I said solemnly. "What exactly will you do?"

He glared at me, his eyes threatening to chew me alive, and that was my cue to bring out the rarely silent person in me. It was painful, staying silent, I mean. But I did, a lazy smile elevating the charm of my lips as I thought of my first day at a driving school after twenty-seven whole years of a not-eligible-to-drive life.

Elliot would've been so happy to know that I have finally plucked the courage from some tree to start driving. Aric, on the other hand...I didn't know, and a part of me didn't even care. Surely, I was trying to brew a friendship between him and me, but that didn't mean I had to tell him everything because I had yet to trust him, something I didn't want to do. Not yet, at least.

Friendships can function well even without trust, right?

He parked in front of the main gate of the building on the fourth floor of which my apartment stood, and I looked outside the tinted windows at home, sweet home.

I sighed, opening the door and getting off the vehicle. "Good night," I said, gently waving at him.

He, being the super lazy person that he is, simply nodded with his eyes trained on the steering wheel.

Too tired to ask him why he loved staring at things instead of people, I closed the door and pushed my slightly wobbly legs towards the entrance, only to be drawn back by Elliot's voice.

I turned around, my eyelids suddenly weighing a tonne because of the hard work I had done today, to see that he had rolled the window of the passengers' side down. My eyebrows rose ever so slightly as he nodded for me to come closer so I could hear whatever he had to tell.

"Hey, Celeste," he said, leaning over the hand gear. "Did you learn to drive?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in what I thought was uncertainty.

I smiled, the cause of my euphoria being the fact that he had managed to notice how smartly I had saved us even when he was choking. "No," I said, shaking my head. "Not yet,"

He smiled, and although it looked almost invisible, with all the darkness inside the car, and sleep behind my eyes, I still spotted it. "Thought so," he replied. Then, "Take care," he added.

I smiled again, and after waving at him in response, I turned around and entered the building. Feeling too tired to think what good using the staircase would bring to my health, I resorted to using the elevator.

After about a quarter of a minute of leaning against the walls of the elevator, the bells dinged and I exited it. I picked the small pot and dug around until I found the key to my apartment. Seeing as I wasn't willing to carry a purse throughout the party like a piece of extra baggage when I already had my phone for that job, and how I didn't want either of my little ones to wake up to open the door when I'd return, I'd left it here.

Loud and hurried footsteps erupted from somewhere behind me as I inserted the key in its hole and turned it, but because I was very eager to dump my body on my bed, I refused to turn around and see who was causing so much noise pollution at this ungodly hour of the night.

I shouldered the door but before I could enter, a hand curled itself around my wrist. The owner of the hand gently moved me in my light-filled apartment with the help of their body, and then, despite knowing how worn out I was at the moment, spun me swiftly on my heels so I could face them.

Idiot. What would you do if I would've fallen, dislocated my bones, broken my face, but before all that would happen, pulled you along with me so the same could happen to you and you'd die before you could do the same to someone else?

Nothing, right?

My eyes connected with his familiar ones as soon as I turned around. I looked down at his right hand which was secured firmly around mine, not showing any signs of letting go anytime soon.

I sighed sleepily. "Elliot, what are you doing here?"

He placed a finger over my lips to silence me. "Shhh..." he whispered, and I stared at him, my mind pondering till far and wide to amass all excuses he'd make up to explain to me why he'd take the trouble to revisit his old apartment− our apartment.

Not saying anything more, he let his finger fall from my lips and walked me backward until my back slammed against the cold wall and my front slammed against his hard chest.

The next thing that happened was rather funny, chiefly because it was now that my brain felt the need to drop an enormous brick over my sleepy-self− so that when Elliot raised his hand over my shoulder to undo my low bun and I awoke with a nervous gulp, it could sit back and chew on caramel popcorn.

My eyes widened as World War III started inside my hypocritic excuse of a brain. On one half of it was the Elliot-loving portion that advised me to go with the flow because an opportunity like this was not an everyday occurrence, while on the other side was the Elliot-despising half− literally begging me to kick him out of his own apartment.

"Since when did you start tying your hair so compactly?" his gruff whisper interrupted my mental conflict, and I noticed how a pretty frown had started to etch into his skin.

Since I assumed you wouldn't be around, wanting to touch my hair...? I wanted to ask/say but I stayed mute, not wanting my big mouth to ruin the moment. Yeah, I did and didn't want any sort of intimacy at the same time. Fucking sue me to death for being unable to step on one side with a clear mind.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder why he was doing whatever he was doing. He was getting married to someone else for Pete's sake.

Wait, was this marriage going to be of the kind where he'd spend the day with his so-called wife and the night with his ex-fiancee?

God, no, please. If he were to choose me to be a part of his romantic life, then it was supposed to be only me. Sharing wasn't my thing, and with Elliot, I know it will never be, either.

Pure satisfaction overtook his features as my elbow-length hair fell over my shoulder. Oh, God. He slowly pushed his hands through my blonde hair, his fingers gently rubbing my scalp on the lower left side of my head, and I closed my eyes, involuntarily leaning into his warm and soothing touch.

Would it be considered a crime if I said that I missed this?

He secured a powerful arm around my rib cage and pulled my body impossibly close to his, almost crushing my ribs in the process. Oh, God. He lowered his face, his harsh breath tickling every inch of my neck, and I inhaled− or at least tried to, because the next thing I knew, his slightly-parted lips were running over the length of my neck.

"El..." I tried asking him to loosen his grip around my body, but I couldn't. All I could do was let my shaky fingers claw into his turtle-neck woolen shirt, the only grip keeping me in an upright position and hope he would do nothing that either of us would regret later on. Oh, God.

"I missed this..." he whispered against my neck, voicing my own thoughts.

You were the one who walked away, Elliot. And now you say you missed this?

He moved his face away from my neck, and after a few seconds' time, I opened my eyes to discern the look of fierce lusty determination cloaking all other emotions in his eyes as he leaned closer, tilting his neck as he neared. He halted just as the tip of his nose touched my cheek, and placing his hand on the side of my face, pulled it towards him.

I think I should have foreseen a kiss, but I didn't, and I hated how that little hope to keep our friendship 'clean' vaporized as soon as his lips caught mine in a gentle stroke, making me feel more breathless and helpless than I already was.

His lips moved against mine in the most contained symphony, making the kiss feel soft yet passionate− like he was trying to use it as a means of passing a message he couldn't disclose verbally.

I'm sorry Elliot, but you see, I've restricted myself from comprehending anything apart from verbal speech, so I advise you not to assume that I've understood your secret message.

Because I really haven't.

"I missed how you used to make me feel..." he whispered against my lips and a soft whimper escaped my vocals. As if it was a response he was waiting for, he pressed me further in the wall.

Maybe I should take the Elliot-loving side's advice and go with the flow. After all, as it said, chances like these were exceptionally rare.

Not wanting to spend more time thinking about the repercussions of my actions, because I knew that the more I'd think, the more I'd realize how wrong this is, I tied my arms in a tight knot at the back of his neck. He pulled me closer than I already was, and at that moment, I forgot about everything. All I could think of was how much I missed him, how much I yearned for this kiss, this touch, this feeling of home, how much I wanted to hold onto him so he could never go away, so he wouldn't get the chance to break the 'forever' promise he'd made to me by marrying someone else.

...all because I let my heart's desires get to my brain.

"The way we used to sing and− God, Jesus, you're still the same breathtaking Celeste and it feels so amazing to have my breaths just taken away by you..." he whispered yet again, as soon as we broke the contact between our lips for oxygen.

The way my name dripped from his lips felt illegal.

I placed my palm over his cheek, the feeling of the tiny hair littering his unnaturally smooth skin piercing my own skin making me go nuts. I still love you, Elliot. I never stopped, you know, I wanted to tell him, but I knew I couldn't. So, instead, I whispered, "You were the one who walked away, Elliot..."

He looked me in the eye, and once again I was reminded of the secrets that could be lurking behind those beautiful orbs of his− the untold reasons as to why he was doing this. "I know, but am back now, and Celeste−"

"Mom?!" a strangled voice echoed through the corridor.

For two bodies that were literally pressed into each other to move away from each other within mere moments, it all happened too hastily. I didn't push him away, of course, and neither did he push me. We just moved away from each other as if the other one was set ablaze. And because no matter how good Elliot had been to me tonight, he still had a damn lot to do to earn himself a ticket to meet Zeph, I immediately covered his face with my palm, pushed him out of the door and locked it before he could stop me.

I turned towards my daughter, fully breathless, and fathoming the look of utter shock on her face, I knew immediately that I had many lies to brew as excuses of who that guy was and why I was doing what I was doing with him.

"What are you doing, uh, awake till now? Didn't Jael put you to bed?"

"Mom," she said, noticeably appalled beyond rationality. "Were you, um, err... kissing that person?"

Maybe it was the way Zeph's eyebrows moved in question, or perhaps the way in which she'd put out her query, but I suddenly felt very bad.

Alright, I'm going to pretend I didn't just kiss my client who happens to be my ex-fiancee.

"You didn't see his face, did you?" I asked cautiously. Even though I'd tried my best to hide his face with the help of my small palm, I needed confirmation to keep my scattered mind in one dimension that she had indeed not seen him.

"No, mom," she deadpanned, suddenly making me feel as if I was the wrong one here, and deep down, I knew I was. But on a more serious note, thank all the lords in the universe that she hadn't seen his face. "Now tell me who he is." she crossed her hands over her wee chest, casting me an expectant look.

"Why?"

"Why not?" retorted Zephrine.

For someone about one-third of my age, she was being very demanding. And yes, I know she has the right to be, after all, this was the first time she'd seen me kissing someone. But what I found rather ironic here, was that I hadn't kissed anyone since Elliot had left me (don't even ask me what nine years of a loveless life feels like), and that record of mine broke today when I kissed none other than the one I'd always wanted to− Elliot.

Weirdly satisfying, right?

"What're you gonna do with that very useless piece of information, anyway?" it was my turn to cross my arms over my chest.

"Nothing, actually," Zephrine said. Then, all of her sudden, her strict-as-an-army-officer facade fell and she grinned shamelessly before asking the inevitable, her thin eyebrows moving suggestively. "When can I meet him?"

My heart fell to my stomach as I called to mind how firm I was to not let them meet any time soon.

I walked towards her and intertwining our fingers, I muttered, "I think it's time you sleep."

I then walked her to our room, my mind unable to focus on anything apart from Elliot's eyes which repeatedly kept flashing before mine. Despite what I had told Zeph not a minute ago, a fuzzy feeling filled my chest as I recalled the kiss, and the old warmth his eyes used to hold.

And that's when it clicked, like a piece that fitted perfectly in one corner of my mental puzzle, that the fire was finally back in them.

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Um, a fun fact− I had originally written chapters 5, 6, and 7 as ONE big chapter. But then, because I had to keep adding minute descriptions when editing and that ONE chapter was about TWO hours long, here we are, reading one chapter split in three. :)

Anywaysss, the book is done somewhat half-way through. What do you think about it so far? Lots more up ahead woho! Do vote, comment, and share! :)