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CHAPTER 5

WINTER

"I—"

Zion's large hands firmly grasp my shoulders, turning me to face him. The touch sends a jolt through me, reminiscent of our first encounter. I brace myself for his usual sharp retort, his defense mechanism whenever I've tried to connect with him before. To my surprise, his gaze softens, and he murmurs,

"Thank you."

For a fleeting moment, I dare to hope that a breakthrough is within reach. His guard momentarily down, there's a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, his demeanour shifts.

The hardness returns to his features, the familiar mask slipping back into place.

"Now get out fu*k out of my way," Zion muttered, his tone edged with impatience.

My brows knitted together in a deep furrow, anger simmering beneath the surface. That damn nickname always got under my skin, and he knew it all too well.

Before I could snap back at him, he abruptly turned away, taking a few hurried steps before stumbling and crashing to the ground, just a couple of stairs up.

"Serves him right!"

Suppressing a chuckle at his intoxicated state, I move in to assist him once more. Surprisingly, he tolerates my help, though I suspect he's indulging me out of sheer amusement.

We eventually halt at the entrance to his bedroom. I withdraw my arm from around his waist, preparing to step away, but I'm caught off guard when he suddenly pulls me back towards him.

Our bodies press together, and I feel the warmth emanating from him through the fabric that separates us.

His face is hard, even through the haze of alcohol, and I can feel the anger radiating off him as his eyes sweep over me.

The instinct to pull my hoodie tighter and shield myself is overwhelming, but there's no way I’ll let him see me back down. So, I stay rooted, letting him take in every inch, refusing to flinch under his glare.

"Is that hoodie your boyfriend's?" He asked suddenly, his voice laced with curiosity.

Startled by his directness, I hesitate before responding. "Huh?"

"The hoodie you're wearing. It's a guy's," he clarifies, his gaze piercing mine with intensity. Flustered, I manage to stammer out, "Oh. Yeah."

"Boyfriend?" he probes further, his tone insistent. I falter under his scrutiny, feeling a knot of nervousness tighten in my stomach. "No," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Whose is it?" he snaps, his voice suddenly harsh and laced with frustration. His eyes narrow, and a dark intensity flickers across his face.

“What does it matter, look…” I begin, but before I can finish my sentence, he grabs my arm, his grip firm. He leans closer, his eyes boring into mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them.

“Whose hoodie is it Snowflake?” he repeats, his voice cold and unrelenting.

I swallow hard, a shiver racing down my spine.

"It's W-Winter, not Snowflake!"

"WHO FUC*ING HOODIE IS IT?" He seethes through gritted teeth.

"It's... it's my f-friends'."

His expression shifts, and I detect a flicker of something in his eyes that I can't quite decipher.

The moment hangs heavy between us, charged with unspoken words and unexplored emotions, leaving me acutely aware of the proximity and intensity of our unexpected encounter.

"Friend?" he queries, his eyebrow arching inquisitively.

"Yes friend, a gay friend," I admit softly, finding myself divulging more than intended.."

"Fuck, as if I care", he mutters gruffly, his expression tightening with sudden comprehension.

Again, instead of pushing me away, he pulls me closer, enveloping me in his warmth. My heart races in response to his closeness, and I feel the tension in his body as his gaze remains fixed on mine.

I tremble slightly against him, expecting a reaction, but he remains stoic, his grip firm yet gentle. The weight of his silence hangs heavily between us, leaving me uncertain and vulnerable.

"Zion?" I venture, breaking the silence that stretches uncomfortably between us.

His eyes drop to my lips.

Instinctively, I moisten my bottom lip, unable to resist the tension building between us.

“What's the matter, Snowflake? Did you think I was going to kiss you? Sorry, but I don’t kiss bitches,” he slurs, a smirk on his face.

“Well, as fascinating as this little catch-up is, I’ve got better things to do,” I replied, locking eyes with him. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow with irritation as he steps closer, his body nearly pressing against mine. I force myself to stay steady, meeting his gaze despite the proximity.

“You think you’re something special, don’t you?” he sneers.

I shrug. “I don’t think anything.”

Before I can react, he moves with surprising speed. His hand wraps around my throat just as my back slams against the wall.

“Let me set you straight,” he growls, his voice menacing. “You’re nothing but a nobody. Believing otherwise is just another mistake you’ve made.”

Leaning in close, his lips graze my ear, and I struggle to suppress the shiver of unwanted desire that threatens to overwhelm me. “If I were you, I’d start watching your back,” he whispers, his voice dark and ominous.

He pulls back, his eyes filled with a cold, dangerous intensity. “Whatever, Zion,” I reply through gritted teeth, trying to mask my confusion and anger. I have no clue what his problem is.

“Watch your back,” he hisses again, his voice so low that only I can hear. Then, without another word, he turns and leaves, leaving me reeling as I stagger back.

What the hell is his problem with me?

After a moment of confusion, the sound of another door closing snaps me out of my thoughts. I push away from the wall and briskly return to my room.


"Winter! Zion!" Dad's voice thunders up the stairs, yanking me from my sleep.

Damn, I must've overslept. He messaged me last night—or, more like, ordered me—that we were having a family breakfast this morning. Groaning, I spring out of bed and dash to the bathroom, not in the mood for one of his lectures about being lazy or how much of a disappointment I am.

I have no idea where we’re going, but it’s probably some upscale place meant to boost his image. Begrudgingly, I swap my usual jeans and tank top for a pencil skirt and blouse.

"Winter!"

"Just a sec!" I shout back, hastily applying a coat of gloss to my lips and smoothing down my hair.

Dad gives me the same familiar look of disapproval. He’s dressed to the nines in a sharp suit, and Jenny looks effortlessly elegant in a floral summer dress. My guess about the fancy breakfast spot was spot-on.

"Honestly, Winter, can’t you wear something appropriate for once? You look like you just rolled out of bed."

I glance down at my outfit, feeling a bit defensive. "What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?"

Before Dad can scold me for talking back, his expression darkens as his gaze shifts to something behind me at the top of the staircase. "What the hell?" he suddenly snaps, his voice sharp with anger. Both Jenny and I whip around, startled, to see what has caught his attention.

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