CHAPTER 125: “DO YOU WANT TO SLEEP WITH ME?”

And before she could think better of it, her hand lifted. Hesitant at first, then surer, to press against his chest.

The movement felt reckless, unplanned, like she was stepping onto thin ice knowing full well it might crack under her weight.

She was almost startled by the steady thud of his heartbeat, louder than the movie still playing in the background.

She didn’t know what she meant to do next, if there even was a next, but her fingers curled faintly against the firm heat under his shirt.

She was still looking up at him, face completely flushed, towel wrapped around her hair, her eyes unsteady. He was also looking down at her, gaze unreadable as always. If his heart wasn’t beating so fast and wildly, she would have thought he wasn’t affected by any of this at all.

Her breath stuttered, resolve wobbling dangerously. She could almost lean in again. Almost.

His voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "Sit still."

The command was low, unhurried, but there was steel underneath.

Her fingers froze against him.

He kept his hand at her chin, angling her face just enough so she couldn’t duck away. "You... really are sick in the head after whatever the hell happened today." His gaze never wavered. "Is this the outlet you need?"

Her lips parted, a weak defense ready to trip out, but he didn’t give her the chance.

"Do you want to sleep with me?"

Her mind blanked. Out of every possible thing he could have said, that was the weirdest, most off-kilter question.

Did she want to sleep with him?

Everything pointed to how obviously wrong and crazy it was. He was... him. She was her.

She’d had a long day, so maybe her brain was short-circuiting—

No. No, that was a coward’s excuse. She wasn’t going to blame exhaustion. So yes, she did find him attractive. Very. But would she want to have sex with him in her clear mind?

Probably... no. She had a lot on her plate. And he wasn’t hers to begin with. No matter how much abs he flashed in front of her.

"I’m... sorry," she said weakly, letting her hand drop as she tried to look away. But he kept her chin firmly in place, eyes still fixed on her.

"Good. And I’m done playing babysitter." His tone was clipped, final. "Now, tell me who the fuck it was."

Her pulse spiked. The heat in her cheeks tangled with a different kind of discomfort, embarrassment, anxiety, and something far heavier that coiled in her stomach.

Then, unexpectedly, maybe because he sensed her tension, or maybe she was imagining it, his other arm slid to her back. He rubbed it gently as he asked, "Who made you ugly cry?"

Her eyes lifted to his face.

Why... why was he making things difficult for her?

Why couldn’t he just leave her alone, stop looking at her, stop treating her like... this?

Without thinking, she slowly leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. The movement was small, almost cautious, but his warmth seeped into her all the same.

He didn’t push her away. His hand kept rubbing her back, slow and steady, before his other hand dropped from her chin.

"...I’m sorry," she murmured into the fabric, voice quiet and muffled. "...but I can’t tell you."

His chest rose and fell slowly. She felt the rhythm under her forehead, and then, the hand on her back stilled.

She silently prayed he would let her be.

Where would she even start?

Tell him she was a liar and impersonator? That she’d seen her sister, learned far too much about her in a short time, and now hated herself for not being there, though she knew it wasn’t her fault?

Worse, admit she’d agreed to do this for Priscilla. For money. Despite everything Priscilla had done to Aurora.

She loathed herself so hard it made her throat ache. Just remembering it now made her want to cry all over again.

"You think you can handle whatever this is by yourself?" His voice finally came, but without the edge she’d expected. Calm. Almost... patient.

She swallowed. Even if she couldn’t, she would.

"...Yes," she whispered, shaky but firm. "I’ll... I’ll do my best."

There was a pause. Long enough for the muted sounds of laughter from the TV to drift between them. Then, softer, "...I’m sorry."

She hesitated, then added, "Please... don’t... don’t go behind me to dig. Maybe... one day... I’ll tell you everything. Just let me handle this for now."

His jaw tightened in her peripheral vision, but after a beat, his voice came low and quiet. "...Okay."

She pulled back slightly, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to simply agree. Was this... a trick?

She searched his face, but his expression stayed guarded.

"You shouldn’t mind getting into trouble," he said finally, with deliberate calm. "Even if it’s inconvenient... there’s no trouble I can’t pull you out of. I wouldn’t want my name sullied, since you’re somehow affiliated with me now. So... whatever."

Pause.

Wouldn’t a normal person say ’DO NOT get into trouble’ to protect their reputation? Why was he saying she should get into trouble because he’d pull her out of it?

It was such a him thing to say. Roundabout, arrogant, but still an assurance in its own way. The kind that, on another day, might have made her laugh.

But she didn’t. Not this time.

Instead, she looked at him honestly, the edges of her tension easing just enough for the words to come. "...Thank you," she paused, not even sure what she was thanking him for. "...for everything."

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

The weight of what she’d said and what she hadn’t hung between them.

He just stood there, letting her rest her head on him. She became suddenly, acutely aware of how easily he could move away, and she would tip over and fall.

Since when did she begin to unconsciously trust him this much?

Hades exhaled once, slow, almost irritated, before muttering, "You’re trouble."

He put his hand on her shoulder and helped her sit up, creating a sliver of space between them.

The words weren’t meant as a compliment. But the way his gaze dragged over her face made her wonder if it wasn’t entirely a complaint either.

Then he offered his hand. No smirk, no comment. Just a solid grip as he helped her down from the console.

Her feet hit the floor with more force than necessary, like maybe if she stomped hard enough, she could shake the last few minutes out of existence.

Neither of them spoke as they returned to the futon, the glow of the TV greeting them with the rolling credits of the romcom. The cheery music clashed violently with the way the air between them had thickened and cooled all at once.

She sank into her space, focusing very hard on the fruit bowl like it might rescue her from having to think.

"Stop watching crap," he said at last, picking up the remote from where HE had left it.

That snapped her right out of her daze. She whipped her head toward him. "Ex...cuse me? You’re the one who picked it!"

He didn’t even blink. "And you let me."

Her mouth fell open. "You—! That is—" She cut herself off with a sharp exhale, because arguing with him was like trying to arm wrestle a brick wall. She folded her arms and glared at the screen while he busied himself flipping through options.

Eventually, he stopped on a cartoon. Not even one she recognized.

"That’s... your upgrade from crap?" she muttered under her breath.

He ignored her entirely.

Somewhere along the way, she found herself eating quietly and watching the animation. He also picked some random fruit and ate as if nothing in the last hour had been out of the ordinary.

And somehow, that was how they stayed. Quiet. Still. Just the occasional clink of a fork against the plate and the cartoon voices filling the space.

She didn’t remember when her eyes started to droop. Didn’t remember shifting closer. But by the time her lashes lifted again, sunlight was filtering into the room.

She blinked groggily, only to realize she wasn’t just close to him, her head was on his shoulder. And his arm... oh God, his arm was around her.

They were both sitting, backs resting against the wall.

What—

Then she realized why she’d woken up.

The door had opened.

Gavin stood in the doorway. And for the first time since she met him, his face actually showed some emotion.

He looked like he’d just stepped into the wrong room, wrong house... maybe even the wrong universe.

"What kind of disgusting shit is going on here?" he asked quietly.

Alice’s body reacted before her mind could catch up. She jumped away from Hades so fast it was almost inhuman. Even criminals didn’t flee from the FBI with that kind of reflex.

Beside her, Hades didn’t move at all. Just sat there, arm now casually draped over the back of the futon, looking at Gavin with the laziest eyes in existence.