We will never speak a word about how it felt riding that wretched metal coffin people call public transportation to Aiden's place. Ever.
Honestly, I thought we were heading to the usual apartment—the one I thought was his.
"I thought we were going to your place?" I asked, squinting at the unfamiliar route.
"We are," Aiden said with a smile.
What the hell?
"Then what about your apartment?"
"Oh... yeah. That's not mine," he replied casually.
I stared at him, stunned. "Dude. I showered there. We almost... we—you—God, I hate you so much, Aiden."
He burst out laughing like this was the funniest thing ever.
"Relax. I did live there. But it belonged to someone else."
Fantastic. So now I was embarrassed and pissed.
The ride felt like forever, but we finally got off that commoner's prison box and arrived at his actual house. The neighborhood was... suspiciously quiet. Not a single soul in sight.
"This place seems..."
"Secluded? Empty? Sketchy?" Aiden offered, not missing a beat.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Perfect place to kill someone, right?" He grinned.
I froze. My heart decided to skip not one, not two, but three beats.
What if he was lying this whole time? What if this was where I died?
The sheer terror must've been written all over my face because Aiden started laughing again.
"Isaaq, relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."
I stayed quiet. Didn't move. I didn't trust him—not entirely. God, I was such an idiot. A hot idiot trap—that's what this was. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
He looked at me, a little softer now. "What's it gonna take for you to trust me?"
"A lot," I said honestly.
Aiden sighed. "I brought you here to tell you everything. I know the neighborhood looks sketchy as fuck, but... come inside."
I hesitated, then followed him.
And to my absolute surprise, his house was cozy. Like, lived-in, warm, soft-lighting, throw-pillows-and-fresh-flowers cozy. The walls were a soft cream, the floors a dark polished wood. A shelf full of books stood by the window, and plants—real ones—lined the corners. Aiden even had framed photos up, though none with actual faces. Artistic, but weirdly homey.
This was not the place I imagined the school's most dangerous enigma-slash-flirt lived in.
Aiden walked in, took off his shirt, and casually tossed it into a basket by the door like it was nothing.
I raised a brow. "I thought you didn't like taking your shirt off. Especially around me."
"I do like taking it off," he said, stretching a little, clearly on purpose. "Just not in public. And with you? I'm doing you a favor. You love staring at it."
I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you."
He smirked. "Is that an offer?"
Honestly, I wanted to. I really, really did. But I was still scared of letting my guard down again. My face heated up, and I looked away.
"Not right now," I muttered.
He didn't press. "You hungry? I can make something."
I blinked. "Wait. You cook?"
Aiden only motioned toward the kitchen like duh.
"Oh, now this I gotta see," I said, following him in.
Somehow, everything in this twisted day just kept getting more confusing. And more interesting.
Aiden got busy in the kitchen, and to be honest, I was impressed. He moved like he belonged there—knife in one hand, ingredients flipping in a pan, humming under his breath like he wasn't the same guy who threatened to kill someone ten minutes ago. His technique was precise, confident. The way he chopped those vegetables? Kind of hypnotic.
And the worst part? He was shirtless. Just an apron tied around his waist, his toned chest on full display. Every time he leaned over the counter, muscles flexed. He'd glance back at me now and then with a smirk that screamed, I know exactly what I'm doing to you.
God. Was he tempting me on purpose?
Probably.
He served the food—a steaming bowl of something that looked like it came out of a five-star kitchen. I stared at it for a long second.
"I swear, I didn't put anything in it," Aiden said, holding his hands up.
Right. Of course he didn't. He wasn't Theo.
Now that would've made me throw the whole bowl out the window.
I tried a spoonful. My eyes widened.
"Oh my God," I gasped. "It's delicious."
Aiden chuckled, clearly proud. "I'm glad you like it."
I was still halfway through my second bite when he leaned in, tilted my face up by the chin, and brushed his thumb over my lower lip.
"Just try to leave room for me," he whispered before kissing me softly. Then he sat down beside me, tossing his apron off casually.
That's when it hit me—he'd been cooking with his chest bare this whole time.
Jesus. That was actually so hot.
Was he seriously trying to seduce me?
Well, two can play that game.
There was no way I was going to be the only one losing my mind.
"Hey," I said, feigning a frown. "Can you try the soup? It tastes funny."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "It didn't when I made it."
"No, like, something's off. Just taste it again."
He looked genuinely concerned. He leaned over and took a sip from my bowl, his expression thoughtful.
"It tastes fine to me—"
"Try it again," I insisted.
He gave me a confused look but obeyed. Just as he took another sip, I grabbed his collar and kissed him. Hard.
He nearly choked in surprise, but he swallowed quickly as our lips moved together.
When we pulled apart, he stared at me with wide eyes.
"Tastes better, doesn't it?" I said with a sly grin.
Aiden leaned back, narrowing his eyes like a predator.
"Isaaq freaking Almasi... I hope you're ready to face the consequences of your actions."
I laughed, trying to go back to my food, but then—
"Dude, what the f—!" I yelped as he lifted me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Put me down! I'm still hungry!" I hit his back a few times but he didn't even flinch.
He carried me to the bedroom and dropped me on the bed with a soft thud.
"Dude, I was eating! I'm fucking hungry—"
Aiden's voice dropped low. "So am I."
And just like that, the air shifted. My whole body tensed.
Wait. That voice… that presence.
"Hayden?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer. Just climbed onto the bed, slowly, like a predator closing in. He kissed me, warm and commanding, as he tugged my shirt off. I thought about protesting—but my voice failed me. His touch was... different. Dominant.
I had topped him earlier.
But that was when he was Aiden.
Now... this was Hayden.
And I was the one beneath him.
He paused, eyes roaming over me with an intensity that made my skin burn.
"You look perfect," he murmured.
His mouth met my skin—neck, collarbone, chest—slow and intentional. He traced my sides, teased my nipples, ran fingers along places that made me shudder. Every move was calculated, patient. Like he wanted to savor me.
And it was working. It was driving me insane.
I didn't want patience.
I wanted him.
"Quit fucking stalling," I growled, grabbing his face, "and just do it."
He kissed me again—deeper this time. Still silent. Still in control.
Then, without a word, he spread my legs and moved between them, eyes never leaving mine.
My breath caught.
This was happening.
And I wasn't just letting it happen.
I wanted it.
Clothes hit the floor one after the other, careless, like none of it mattered anymore. Hayden had this maddening way of kissing every inch of my body like he was memorizing it. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't even careful. It was intentional.
By the time he was inside me, I was a mess—moaning, sighing, fingers clutching at the sheets like I'd drown without them.
Skin on skin, breath on breath, heat tangled between us. It felt like a dream—one of those sweaty, godforsaken, beautiful dreams that leave you wrecked when you wake up.
But this wasn't a dream. He was real. This was happening.
The way he moved inside me, like he knew exactly what I wanted before I could even ask—fuck, it was like being undone and rebuilt all at once.
I moaned again, breathless, nails dragging down his back.
"You feel like trouble," I whispered once, somewhere in between the gasps.
"Good," he growled, "so do you."
When it was over, we both collapsed on the bed, chest to chest, legs tangled. He threw an arm around me and dragged me into his chest like I belonged there. I didn't fight it.
I stared at the ceiling, my breath finally slowing. I felt warm. Safe. Almost.