Axton

I needed a distraction. That was the only reason I was in the gym downstairs, slamming my fists into the bag like it owed me something.

The house was too quiet again. Too still. And I didn’t want to think.

But even with sweat sticking to the back of my neck and music blasting through my earbuds, my mind still drifted. Back to last night.

Back to her.

Barefoot in the hallway. Hoodie too big. Eyes that didn’t give away anything when she looked at me.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. We weren’t supposed to speak. Not like that. Not at that hour.

It was just water. Just silence. Just shared insomnia. And yet, here I was, replaying the way her voice sounded when she said, “Guess we’re all haunted here.”

I hit the bag harder. Let it swing wildly. Stepped away.

This was stupid.

I didn’t like her.

I didn’t know her.

And even if I did, I wasn’t some guy who fell for people just because they looked sad in moonlight.

I was cold for a reason. Detached for survival.

I’d built my life like a house with no windows, no one could see in, and I didn’t care to look out. But lately, it felt like she was standing at the door, not knocking, not speaking. Just there. And I hated how aware of her I was.

I tossed the gloves down, wiped my face, and left the gym.

I didn’t expect to pass her in the hall again.

But of course I did.

She was coming from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand, sleeves pushed up, lips parted like she was just about to take a sip. She stopped when she saw me.

No smile. No scowl. Just a quiet recognition that I wasn’t sure I liked.

“Morning,” I said.

Her brows lifted slightly. “Since when do you say good morning?”

“I don’t,” I replied. “I say ‘morning.’ Less effort.”

“Fits your whole brand,” she muttered, stepping aside.

She brushed past me and I shouldn’t have noticed the way her shoulder grazed mine. Or the way her hair smelled, clean and soft and faintly citrusy. Or the way her hand lingered around the cup like it needed something to hold onto.

But I did.

And for a second, I almost said something.  

Something real.

But I didn’t know what ao I said nothing.

Let her walk past again like we weren’t slowly orbiting each other closer.

---

That night, I sat in bed, scrolling through my phone just to stay busy.  

Blain had texted.

Blain: Eric’s talking about throwing something this weekend. Party. Booze. Girls. Usual chaos. You in?

I didn’t answer. Didn’t want to be around anyone.

But maybe I should.

Get out. Get her out of my head.

I typed back.

Axton: Maybe.

I stared at the word longer than I meant to.

Maybe.

That’s what everything felt like now.