Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. God, I wanna stretch my legs. Driving from New York to North Carolina for 8 straight hours is not for the weak. "Are you sure it's here?'' I ask Ashley.

She looks up from her phone and nods, doesn't utter a word. I drive up the narrow road, my anxiety filling up, praying that a car won't come driving down, there will be no space for 2 cars here.

"We aren't going to be the first people to come, right?'' Jasmine asks from the backseat. Ashley sighs at her.

"No. We are literally 3 hours too late because someone's car didn't work.'' She looks to her left at me. I feel her eyes piercing into my skin. It's not my fault that my tires decided to give up on life halfway through the trip. I ignore her stare and focus on maneuvering the car up the steep road. The trees on either side are dense, casting long shadows in the fading afternoon light. This place feels isolated, almost claustrophobic.

"Urgh, I am so excited to meet your uncle,'' Jasmine says, bouncing a little in her seat with enthusiasm.

"Yes, very nice of him and your aunt to invite us," I chime in, trying to sound upbeat despite my mounting discomfort. Ashley and Jasmine exchange a look, and then they burst into laughter, their giggles filling the car. The sound grates on my nerves. "What?" I ask, frustration evident in my voice. The laughter feels like it's mocking me, pushing me further into a spiral of annoyance.

"That's not why, Alex," Jasmine says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Her uncle is so hot. Haven't you seen him?"

I shrug, a little taken aback. "No," I admit, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't he like 50?''

"55," Ashley corrects with a sly smile, her eyes glued to her phone as if she's oblivious to the tension.

"That's not better, Ashley," I respond, shaking my head at her. Her laughter continues a sound that does little to improve my mood.

''Look, I'm not the one crushing on him here. Jas is.'' Ashley explains with a sly smile.

"Just because he's hot doesn't mean I love him or anything," Jasmine protests, though she can't suppress a playful smirk.

As the car continues to wind up the road, the dense forest begins to thin out, and the outline of the mansion comes into view. "Holy shit," I mutter under my breath. I slow the car and come to a stop. "How many people did you say we were going to be?"

"I don't know, maybe like 40 or 50..." Ashley replies nonchalantly.

"How the fuck are there going to be 50 people here?" I ask, my voice tinged with disbelief.

"Oh my God," Ashley responds, laughing. "My aunt and uncle are like crazy rich. Their summer house has like 25 bedrooms." She says it like it's no big deal.

"I can't even afford a closet that fits my clothes," I joke, trying to lighten the mood. "Seriously, if I had this place, I'd probably get lost looking for the bathroom."

Jasmine chimes in with a grin, "Well, at least you'd have plenty of room to get lost in! Maybe you'll find a secret room with a hidden treasure or a magic portal."

I give her a skeptical look. "Yeah, and I'll bet the portal leads straight to the laundry room where they keep all the staff."

Ashley laughs, shaking her head. "Or maybe the hidden treasure is just a giant pile of expensive, unused sports cars in the garage."

"Great," I say, rolling my eyes playfully. "So, if I need a Ferrari to get me out of this maze, I'll know where to look."

"Ha ha, you guys are so funny," Ashley says with thick irony to her words. "You can just drive around to the left and there should be a garage for us."

I take a deep breath and steer the car around the bend. As we make the turn, the enormity of the mansion becomes even more apparent. ''I'm beginning to think this place is a whole different level of reality,'' I mutter as I park the car. The grandeur of the garage and the house beyond it makes me feel like I've stepped into some sort of high-end fantasy.

Jasmine stretches and looks out the window, her eyes wide with awe. ''I hope they have a butler who can give us a tour. I want to see if there's an indoor pool or a private movie theater.''

Ashley rolls her eyes with a grin. ''Oh, you're dreaming too small. They have a bowling alley and a wine cellar that's bigger than my entire apartment.''

I open my door and step out, trying to ignore the fact that the concrete beneath my feet feels far more expensive than anything I've ever walked on. "Alright, let's get in," I say, opening the trunk of my car.

We all take our suitcases and walk up through the pathway to the enormous front door. The pathway itself is meticulously maintained, with neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds bursting with color, adding to the mansion's impressive facade. As we approach, the door swings open to reveal a tall, beautiful man in a tailored suit. He has an air of quiet confidence and a welcoming smile.

"Uncle!" Ashley squeals as she sees the man. He engulfs her in a warm hug, lifting her slightly off the ground.

"Ashley! It's so good to see you!" he says, his voice rich and friendly. As he sets her down, he turns to us with the same charming smile. ''Hello, girls.''

Jasmine leans in to whisper to me, "Do you see what I mean?"

"Oh, shut up," I push her away playfully, trying to suppress a grin.

"I'm Hugh, by the way," he says, extending a hand to me. "Welcome to our home."

"Nice to meet you, Hugh," I reply, shaking his hand. "I'm Alex, and this is Jasmine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Hugh says, giving us a nod. "Ashley has told us a lot about you. Come on in, make yourselves at home."

We step inside, the grandeur of the interior even more impressive than the exterior. The foyer is massive, with a sweeping staircase and a chandelier that seems to sparkle with every step we take. ''Darling?'' A sudden female voice calls out. A striking woman appears at the top of the staircase. She descends gracefully, her smile warm and welcoming.

"Maggie, these are Ashley's friends, Alex and Jasmine," Hugh introduces us.

"Welcome to our home!" Maggie says, reaching the bottom of the stairs and extending her hand. "It's so lovely to finally meet you both."

"Thank you for having us," Jasmine and I say almost in unison, shaking her hand.

"You must be exhausted from the drive," Maggie continues, her voice filled with genuine concern. "We've prepared some refreshments in the sunroom. Why don't you freshen up and join us there?"

"That sounds wonderful," Ashley says, beaming.

Hugh and Maggie lead us to our rooms, each one more luxurious than the last. As Hugh closes the door behind him, leaving the three of us alone, Jasmine and I immediately start squealing.

"Oh, my God, Ashley, I thought you were exaggerating, but this is some rich people kinda shit," Jasmine says, looking around in awe. "Like, really, really rich people kinda shit."

"It's not that crazy," Ashley answers, unbothered, as she sits down with her face buried in her phone.

I flop onto the enormous bed, sinking into the plush comforter. "Not that crazy? Ashley, they have a chandelier in the foyer, which is bigger than my dorm.''

Ashley shrugs, barely looking up. "It's just how they live, I guess."

Jasmine starts opening drawers and closets, her excitement palpable. "Look at this! They even have a mini-fridge stocked with champagne."

I laugh, shaking my head. "We've definitely stepped into another world."

"Come on, let's not waste any time," Jasmine says, grabbing my hand with a firm grip. "We need to check out those refreshments in the sunroom. I'm starving." She drags me from the plush bed, her excitement palpable.

"Alright, alright," I say, reluctantly following her lead. "You go ahead. I think I need a quick power nap."

Jasmine stops and turns to face me, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "Are you kidding?"

"Were you the one who just drove eight hours from New York to North Carolina? No," I reply, rubbing my neck to emphasize my point.

"It's only 4 p.m. You can come down now," she insists, her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of concern and impatience.

"I'll be down in an hour or two," I promise, giving her a reassuring smile. "I might need a shower, too."

Jasmine lets out a dramatic sigh but concedes, shaking her head with a smile. "Fine. But don't take too long. You don't want to miss out on all the fun."

"I promise I'll be down soon," I say, waving them off as they head out of the room.

Left alone, I collapse back onto the bed, the soft mattress enveloping me in comfort. The room is a serene sanctuary, with elegant furnishings and a view of the lush gardens outside. I let out a long, contented sigh, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. The sound of distant laughter and the hum of conversation drift through the air, creating a soothing background melody.

Chapter Text

I wake up startled by my alarm. The evening sun peeks through the big window, casting a warm, golden hue across the luxurious room. I sit up, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.

The evening sun peeks through the big window, casting a warm, golden hue across the luxurious room. I grab my toiletries and head to the bathroom, which is just as fancy as the rest of the house. Marble countertops, a rainfall shower, and fluffy white towels that look like they belong in a five-star hotel. I stare in awe. Everything in this house is on another level.

As I step into the shower, all of my worries flush down the drain. As the water runs down my hair, and my body, I can't help but feel strange. This house, these people are so different from my world and where I come from.

I finish my shower, feeling more refreshed but still slightly uneasy. Wrapping myself in one of the plush towels, I take a moment to appreciate the luxury of the bathroom. Even the smallest details, like the heated floor and the fragrant soap, are ingeniously thought out.

I go back to the bedroom to open my suitcase. I didn't realize they were this rich, so I didn't bother bringing fancy clothes. Like I even owned some. I throw on a casual fit: jeans and a comfy shirt, which won't make me stand out too much. As I step into the hallway, I notice how much it looks like a hotel here. 

The hallway is very minimalistic, with loads of doors, which I assume leads to the other 24 rooms for the other guests. I reach the bottom of the stairs and see the grand foyer, which I had stood in earlier. Not a sound comes from the house. I stop, feeling a bit misplaced. 

Just as I'm about to take another step, a sudden clatter of pans hitting the floor echoes through the silence, followed by a loud, frustrated, "Urgh, please not now." The voice is unmistakably Maggie's, the warm and welcoming aunt from earlier.

I hesitate, unsure whether to go towards the noise or stay put. But the sound of more shuffling and a muttered curse pushes me to move. I follow the sounds, weaving through the wide, empty hallway until I find the kitchen, its large, open space now filled with the aftermath of whatever disaster had just occurred.

Maggie is bent over, trying to pick up a few pans that have scattered across the floor. Her usual composed demeanor, which I saw earlier, is replaced with a frazzled look as she tries to manage the mess. For a moment, she doesn't notice me standing in the doorway. "Need some help?" I offer, stepping in.

Maggie looks up, startled, but then she gives me a small, relieved smile. "Oh, thank you, dear. I thought I had it under control, but..." She gestures to the chaos with a sigh. "Sometimes, things don't go as planned."

I nod, kneeling to help gather the pans. The kitchen smells like mac'n'cheese and chicken. It fills the air with a sense of home that feels surprisingly familiar despite the rich surroundings. The scent makes my mouth water, and I can't help but smile, thinking of all the times I've made the same dish in my tiny dorm back at college.

As I hand Maggie a pan, she glances at the stovetop where a large pot is simmering. ''I've never really been a big chef, but I thought I would practice for the 4th of July.'' She explains with a sheepish grin. "But I got a bit ahead of myself, and... well, you saw what happened."

"It smells amazing," I say, placing the last pan on the counter. "Mac'n'cheese is a classic." I try to lift the spirits. ''You're also cooking for loads of people, so I really do not blame you.'' I smile at her.

She giggles at me. "I should probably get back to it," she says, nodding toward the pot on the stove. "But if you want to help, I wouldn't say no."

"Absolutely," I reply with a grin. "What do you need me to do?" I scan around the kitchen, noticing the staggering amount of ingredients and half-prepped dishes scattered across the counters.

Maggie looks around too, then back at me with a relieved smile. "Well, if you don't mind, you could start by chopping those veggies," she says, pointing to a pile of fresh produce on the counter. "I'm trying to whip up a big salad to go with everything else.''

''I don't mind at all,'' I say, rolling up my sleeves and grabbing a cutting board. Time flies by talking to Maggie. She's very warm and vibrant, and I would guess she is the reason why this house feels more like a home than a hotel.

As we laugh about a story she's telling, I hear Jasmine's voice calling from the hallway. "Alexandra? Are you in here?" She steps into the kitchen, her eyes wide with surprise. "Where have you been all evening? We're going to the pool!"

I glance at the chopped veggies and then back at Jasmine. "Oh, well, I'm just helping Maggie with dinner."

Jasmine rolls her eyes playfully. "Alex, it's a pool. You can help with dinner anytime."

Before I can respond, Maggie smiles at me and says, "It's alright, you can go ahead. Thank you for helping me." I hesitate, not wanting to leave her with all the work, but she waves me off with a gentle laugh. "Go have fun. I'll manage the rest."

"Okay, thanks," I say, wiping my hands on a towel. "I'll see you at dinner."

Jasmine grabs my arm, pulling me out of the kitchen. "Come on, let's not miss the sunset by the pool!" she exclaims. I can't help but smile, feeling a little lighter as we head out to join the others.

I quickly run up to our room to change into my bikini. I dig through my suitcase, finding the bikini I packed last minute. It's simple but cute. It's a bright coral with a halter top that I feel pretty confident in. After slipping into it, I grab a towel and head out the door.

The house is still mostly quiet, but I can hear faint laughter and splashing coming from outside. As I step out onto the patio, the golden light of the setting sun reflects off the pool, creating a stunning, almost magical atmosphere. Jasmine is already there, chatting with some of the other guests, and she waves me over with a big smile.

"Finally!" she teases as I walk up. "You took forever!"

"Had to find my bikini," I laugh, tossing my towel onto a nearby lounge chair. I look around as Jasmine continues her conversation. I notice Hugh standing with a beer on the other side of the pool with a group of people. He looks down with furrowed eyebrows. I can't help but watch him for a moment, curious about what has his attention. The way his expression softens slightly as he focuses.

Before I can think too much about it, Hugh glances up and catches me looking. For a split second, our eyes meet across the pool, and I feel a strange flutter in my stomach. I quickly look away, pretending to be interested in something else, but the moment lingers in the back of my mind, leaving me feeling a little more unsettled than I was before.

Jasmine's laughter pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn back to her, trying to shake off the lingering tension from my brief eye contact with Hugh. "Did you know that, Alex?" she asks, still giggling, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Know what?" I reply, forcing a smile to cover up my distraction.

She grins, clearly enjoying the story. "Apparently, someone tried to do a backflip off the diving board last year and ended up belly-flopping so hard, that the entire pool cleared out!"

I laugh along with her, relieved that it's something lighthearted. Just as I'm about to respond, a deep, rich voice interrupts from behind me. "That's funny coming from the guy who did it," the voice says with a hint of amusement. I turn around, surprised to see Hugh standing closer now, his beer still in hand, and a playful smirk on his face, he looks right past me.

Before I can process that, another voice chimes in, this one carrying a distinctly British accent. "Uncle Hugh, you do not need to expose me every year," the guy says, sounding half-exasperated, half-amused. "It is a funny story, I must admit."

I blink, realizing who Jasmine had been talking to. She's been chatting with this British guy. My cheeks flush slightly as I connect the dots, realizing how lost in thought I'd been.

Oliver, with his easy grin and tousled hair, is standing across from us, clearly enjoying the banter. He gives me a nod of acknowledgment, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm Oliver, by the way," he says, extending a hand toward me.

I shake his hand, finally feeling more grounded in the conversation. "Nice to meet you, Oliver,'' I respond with a shy smile.

Hugh, now standing closer, shifts his attention to Jasmine and me. "You ladies enjoy the evening," he says with a charming smile, his tone warm and inviting.

"Thank you, Hugh," Jasmine replies with a playful, flirtatious glint in her eyes.

''See you at dinner,'' Hugh says, and just as he is about to turn away, he catches my gaze. For a brief moment, he winks at me, it's so quick that if I wasn't paying attention, I might have missed it. My heart skips a beat, and I can feel my cheeks flush slightly.

Before I can react, Hugh's attention is already elsewhere, leaving me to wonder if that moment had been as significant as it felt. As he walks away, I can't help but feel a bit strange. Hugh is a very kind man, he probably does it with everyone. 

At least, that's what I try to tell myself despite the butterflies in my lower stomach. Jasmine doesn't seem to notice the exchange, her attention still on Oliver, who is now recounting another funny story from last summer. 

Chapter Text

The glass of red wine in my hand feels heavier than normal. I take a slow sip, letting the wine coat my tongue. It does little to calm the thoughts racing through my mind. My gaze drifts across the room, where guests are mingling, dressed in their finest attire, their faces alight with enjoyment. Yet, I feel oddly disconnected, as if I'm observing the scene from a distance.

Dinner has ended, and the guests have scattered to different corners of the house. I stand in the corner of what they call ''the great room'', a spacious, elegantly decorated space with high ceilings and big windows. The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the air, but I find myself momentarily detached from it all.

I haven't really talked to anyone tonight. Jasmine has been all over Oliver, and I don't even know where Ashley has been ever since we came. Speaking of the devil.

''Is that what you're wearing?'' I turn to see Ashley standing beside me, her eyebrows raised in that familiar, judgmental way that only she can pull off. Jasmine, standing next to her, glances up from her phone, her expression hurried and distracted.

"Yeah. Is something wrong?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Look at what everyone else is wearing. This is a fine dinner party," Ashley says, her tone dripping with disapproval. I stare in confusion. I know this isn't as expensive as everyone else's dress, but I am also a broke college student, who doesn't come from a rich family.

"I don't think people really give a fuck about what I wear," I respond with a small chuckle, trying to brush off her criticism.

"Alex, everyone cares," Ashley insists, her eyes narrowing.

"Guys, let's not do this," Jasmine interjects, trying to defuse the tension. "How did y'all like the dinner? I thought it was delicious."

"I guess I liked the salad," Ashley replies, still maintaining her intense eye contact with me.

"Oh, Alex helped your aunt with that earlier, actually," Jasmine adds with a big smile. I cringe at the mention, knowing Ashley will have a problem with every single thing I do here.

Ashley's eyes flicker with surprise before returning to their steely gaze. "Just casually talking to my aunt now?" she asks, her voice sharp.

"I was just trying to be friendly," I explain, feeling the weight of the situation settling in.

"There she goes again," Ashley mutters, stepping closer to me with that piercing look in her eyes. "Just trying to be friendly, right? Or can you never just stop being a suck-up to every single person you meet?"

I feel my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I'm not sucking up, Ashley. I was just helping out because I wanted to. Not everything is a competition."

Ashley scoffs, crossing her arms. "Of course, you'd say that. You're always playing the nice girl, acting like you're better than everyone else."

"That's not true," I say, my voice wavering slightly, but I refuse to back down. "I'm just being myself."

Jasmine shifts uncomfortably, glancing between us. "Guys, seriously, this isn't the time or place. Can't we just enjoy the evening?"

But Ashley doesn't relent. "You're always looking for attention, aren't you, Alex? Always needing to be the center of everything."

"I don't need attention, Ashley. Maybe you're the one who's obsessed with it," I snap back, surprising even myself with the sharpness of my tone. The tension in the air is thick, and for a moment, it feels like everything else in the room fades away, leaving just the two of us locked in this intense stare-down.

Jasmine clears her throat, trying to break the silence. "How about we go outside for some air? It's getting a little stuffy in here."

Ashley finally breaks eye contact with me, rolling her eyes as she turns away. "Whatever. I'm over this." They both stalk off, leaving me standing here. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, feeling both relieved and shaken by the confrontation.

I feel the weight of the encounter settles heavily on my shoulders. The festive energy of the room now feels suffocating, so I make a quick decision to slip away to the kitchen, needing a moment to think before acting on something I might regret.

The kitchen is quieter than before, though still warm from the evening's cooking. Dishes are piled high in the sink, remnants of the dinner now smeared across plates and bowls. Without thinking, I roll up my sleeves and get to work, grateful for something to focus on other than the swirling thoughts in my head.

Just as I place the first clean dish on the drying rack, I hear a soft voice from behind me. "You didn't have to do that, you know." I turn to see Hugh standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as eyes my every move. How long has he been standing there?

I quickly wipe my hands on a towel, the soft cotton rough against my skin as I try to steady myself, feeling a little caught off guard by Hugh's presence. "Oh, it's no big deal," I reply, attempting to sound casual as I force a smile. The warmth of the kitchen seems to press in around us, making the air feel thicker than it should. "Just wanted to help out."

Hugh leans against the doorframe, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the tiled floor. His eyes, dark and steady, study me for a moment before he speaks. "I know you helped Maggie with dinner earlier," he says, his voice deep and thoughtful. "You really don't have to do the dishes too."

The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard, and I shrug, trying to deflect the attention. "I don't mind," I say before my lips curl into a small chuckle that feels almost out of place in the quiet kitchen.

Hugh raises an eyebrow, intrigued by my reaction. "What's funny?" he asks, his curiosity evident in the way his gaze sharpens, focusing entirely on me.

I hesitate, then decide to share the thought that had amused me earlier. "I just thought that all rich people would have a staff," I admit, a playful grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Jasmine and I joked that we'd be greeted by a butler when we arrived. But now..." I gesture around us with a faint smile, "Now I'm helping the homeowner with the dishes."

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Hugh's face as he straightens up. "Yeah, well..." He pauses as if considering how much to reveal. "Margaret doesn't like having a staff. She prefers doing things the right way, as she puts it. Makes the place feel more like a home."

His words linger in the air, and I find myself nodding, understanding the sentiment behind them. "No, I understand her," I say, my voice softer, more thoughtful.

Hugh looks at me, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. "You do?" he asks, as if he didn't expect me to relate.

"Yeah," I reply simply, meeting his gaze with a steady one of my own. "You don't?" My eyes narrow slightly in response.

He shrugs, his expression turning a bit more introspective. "I don't know. I guess," he admits, his voice tinged with a trace of uncertainty. "She just always gets so stressed, you know?"

"Yeah..." I trail off.

Hugh suddenly seems to realize he's said too much, and a hint of sheepishness colors his features. "I probably shouldn't have told you that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, the corner of his mouth quirks upwards a little, revealing a small awkward smile.

I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as the tension between us tightens. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't have," I tease, the sound of my laughter echoing softly in the warm space around us.

Hugh laughs along with me, the awkwardness momentarily dissolving as he steps closer. "Okay, let me at least help you," he offers, reaching out to take a dish from the pile. His hand brushes against mine, and for a brief second, everything feels normal. But then, as he shifts his stance, his hand accidentally grazes my chest.

The touch is brief, almost like it didn't happen at all, just like that wink earlier, but I feel it strongly, like a sudden shock of energy. He doesn't say anything about it. No apology. No reaction. Just goes on as if nothing happened. His expression stays calm, focused on what he's doing, but there's something about the way he's acting, a certain intention, that makes me question if it was really an accident.

And I know it seems weird. But I have this strangely calming feeling, that even if he meant to touch my tit, it's probably alright because he's a good guy and he knows how it goes and I don't.

Chapter Text

I would've never guessed I would spend the first week in this summer house, utterly alone. Ever since Ashley lashed out at me, she hasn't really talked to me. Jasmine neither.

The house, which was supposed to be full of fun and excitement, now feels empty and eerie. Ashley's harsh words keep playing in my head, especially when I'm by myself. I can't forget how angry she was, or how she looked at me like I didn't belong here. Jasmine, who's usually the one to keep the peace, has been distant too like she'd rather avoid all the drama than deal with it.

It's crazy how fast things changed. We were all so pumped to spend the summer together, but now it feels like we're on completely different planets. Being alone is starting to get to me in a way I didn't expect. I thought I'd enjoy some peace and quiet, but this isn't the kind of alone time I was hoping for.

It feels like I've ruined everything. Hugh hasn't spared me a glance since that moment in the kitchen. I still wonder if it was an accident. But if I think really hard, it's almost like I can feel his fingers brushing over my chest again, and I can't shake the weird mix of feelings it left behind.

I find myself wandering through the house, not really sure where I'm going. The summer house is huge, with long hallways and rooms that seem to stretch on forever. The sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the wooden floors. It's beautiful, but today it feels more like a maze I'm lost in.

I end up in one of the sitting rooms near the back of the house. It's quiet here, away from the main rooms where everyone else is probably hanging out. The room is cozy, with soft armchairs and a big bookshelf that takes up an entire wall. I used to think it would be the perfect place to curl up with a book, but right now, it just feels like another empty space.

I sit down on one of the armchairs, sinking into the cushions as I let out a long breath. My phone is in my lap, but there's no one I really want to text. I scroll through my contacts, stopping when I see Ashley's name. For a second, I consider sending her a message, but then I remember the way she looked at me that night, her eyes full of anger.

As I sit there, sinking deeper into the cushions, my thoughts start to spiral. It's not like Ashley and I were ever super close. We're friends, sure, but more like friends of a friend. Jasmine's the glue that holds us together. I met her in art class, and we just clicked, but Ashley... she's always been more of a mystery to me. I don't even know what classes she takes or what her favorite hobby is. Maybe that's part of the problem.

I wonder if Ashley feels like I haven't made enough of an effort. I've always seen her as kind of tough to get to know, but maybe I never really tried. Did she think I was just using her to get closer to Jasmine? The thought makes me feel uneasy. I don't want to be that kind of person, but what if that's how it looks to her? What if she thinks I'm not interested enough in her life?

It's not like I haven't tried, though. Ashley has always kept her walls up, and I've never been sure how to break through. But maybe I should have pushed harder, asked more questions, and tried to understand her better. Now, it feels like there's this huge gap between us, and I don't know how to bridge it.

I sit up a bit straighter in the chair, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Lost in your thoughts?"

The sudden voice startles me, and I quickly look up to see someone standing in the doorway. It's Oliver, with the same dark hair and the same British accent, but something about his demeanor is different. There's a confidence, an ease in the way he leans against the doorframe, watching me with a curious smile. It makes me uncomfortable, especially knowing how much Jasmine likes Oliver.

"Oh, sorry," I mumble, feeling a bit flustered. "It's Oliver, right?"

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "No, that's my younger brother. I'm Hugh."

I blink in surprise. He has the same name as his uncle. Weird. ''Oh, wow.''

"Yeah, people confuse me a lot with my uncle though," Hugh says, leaning against the doorframe, the lines of his face softening as he speaks.

"You kind of look alike," I say, attempting to ease the awkwardness with a small smile.

"You think?" Hugh raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Something is engaging about his expression as if he's genuinely curious about my take on the comparison.

"No," I reply with a chuckle, the tension between us melting away. His relaxed posture and easygoing manner make the room feel a bit warmer, and I find myself relaxing in his presence.

"Don't worry about it," Hugh says, waving off the comparison with a casual flick of his hand. "My friends call me JJ."

"JJ?" I repeat, my curiosity piqued. His relaxed stance, with one hand resting casually in his pocket and the other gesturing slightly, gives off an inviting, approachable vibe.

"It's a long story," he says with a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders in a way that suggests there's a bit of mystery behind the nickname. The casual way he brushes off the question, coupled with the playful glint in his eyes, makes me more intrigued.

"Okay, JJ," I say with a grin, feeling more comfortable now that we've broken the ice.

''So, why are you sitting here all alone?''

"Oh, I was just about to read something," I reply, trying to sound casual as I fidget with my thumb. 

''What do you read?'' he continues, his interest evident as he steps further into the room.

"A lot of different stuff," I say, shifting in my seat.

''Such as?'' he presses, a playful tone in his voice. His eyes scan the room. I chuckle at his questions, they're making me nervous. Without having time to answer, he walks over to the bookshelf which covers the whole wall. ''Something for you?'' he asks, glancing back at me with a teasing smile.

He pulls a book from the shelf and hands it to me. I take it, feeling the weight of it in my hands as I flip it over to see the cover. It's an old, worn-out copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, the kind of book that looks like it's been read a hundred times.

I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. "A classic, huh? You think I'm the type?"

He grins, leaning casually against the bookshelf. "Well, it's a safe bet. Everyone likes a little drama, right?"

I laugh softly, running my fingers over the book's faded cover. "Yeah, I guess so. But I've already read this one."

He tilts his head, looking a bit surprised. "Really? So, you're a Jane Austen fan?"

I shrug, feeling a bit more at ease. "Not exactly, but I've read a few of her books.''

"Cool.'' He looks around. ''Well, I gotta get back. You should come join us in the pool.'' He gestures vaguely toward the pool area, his tone is upbeat and inviting.

I hesitate, feeling a faint pressure to engage more than I want to. The idea of joining them feels exhausting at the moment. "I think I just need some alone time, you know?"

"Totally respect that. See you later?" His voice is warm and understanding, with a hint of encouragement. He gives me a friendly nod, his expression open and genuine.

"See you later," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. As he turns and walks away, his footsteps fading down the hallway, the room seems to exhale a sigh of relief.

I get up from the armchair, the gentle creak of the cushions breaking the stillness. Carrying the book with me, I make my way out of the sitting room, and just as I am about to reach the big foyer, I feel someone's eyes on me.

As I turn my head slowly, I spot him standing by the entrance to one of the side rooms. Hugh. He's framed by the doorway, his posture relaxed yet imposing. He has a certain air of authority, a gravity that comes with experience. His presence is different from JJ's. It carries a quiet strength and a thoughtful intensity.

He looks up at me and tries to catch my breath. The way he looks at me makes me want to rip my skin off of my body. It's a good feeling. ''So, you like reading.'' Hugh’s voice is deep and smooth, each word deliberate and measured.

“Uh, yeah,” I manage to say, my voice catching slightly as I try to steady myself. There’s something about the way he looks at me, with those dark, piercing eyes, that makes it hard to think straight. I feel like I’m under a microscope, every movement and word being carefully observed.

“Is it your major?” he asks, his tone calm but somehow intimidating, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear it from me.

“What?” I stammer, caught off guard by the question. My mind races, trying to keep up with the conversation, but it’s difficult with his gaze fixed so intently on me.

“Your major,” he repeats, his eyes never leaving mine. “You go to college with Ashley, right?”

“Yeah,” I nod, feeling the tension in my shoulders as I try to maintain composure. “No, it’s not my major. My major is art history and criticism.”

“Art history,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. He tilts his head slightly as if considering this new piece of information. “So you like painting?”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice a bit steadier now, but there’s still an underlying nervousness that I can’t shake. “Yes, I like painting and drawing.”

“Interesting,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me feel exposed like he’s trying to figure me out.

I force myself to meet his gaze, but it’s difficult. His eyes are so intense like they’re seeing right through me, peeling back the layers to expose something hidden. It’s unsettling, but at the same time, there’s a strange thrill in it. The way he looks at me, the way he talks, it all feels like a test, one that I’m not sure I’m passing.

Chapter Text

Do you like it?" Hugh asks, his voice steady, watching me closely.

I nod, unsure of what to say. The way he's looking at me, with that unreadable expression, makes me nervous. It's not like when I'm talking to people my age. There's something about him that feels more serious, like every word matters.

"It's... different," I finally say, searching for the right words. "But yeah, I like it. It's very... you." I try to smile, hoping it comes off as casual, but inside, I'm still trying to figure out what's going on.

A small smile tugs at his lips like I've said something he wasn't expecting. There's a long pause, the kind that makes you feel like you should say something else but you're not sure what. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking, why he's even showing me this room.

"Why are you showing me this?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

He blinks, his gaze shifting to a door on the left wall. "Behind that door," he says, pointing, "I have everything you need for painting and drawing."

I glance at the door, my heart starting to beat a little faster. "What do you mean?"

"Come and see," he says, his tone calm but firm, like he expects me to follow him.

I hesitate, feeling a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. This feels way more intense than just hanging out with friends, and I'm not sure if I should go along with it. But then, without really thinking, I find myself walking towards the door, with Hugh right behind me. It's like I'm being pulled in, even though I'm not sure what I'm getting into.

When I reach the door, I stop, my hand hovering over the handle. I glance back at Hugh, looking for some kind of reassurance. He just nods, so I take a deep breath and open the door.

Inside, the room is small and quiet, filled with art supplies, canvases, paints, and brushes, all neatly organized. There's even an easel set up, ready to be used. It's like a hidden studio, a place where someone could spend hours just creating.

I step inside, the smell of paint and paper filling the air. It's kind of overwhelming, but in a good way, like I've stumbled onto something special. I run my fingers over the edge of a blank canvas, feeling a weird mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Why... why do you have this?" I ask, turning to look at Hugh, my voice barely above a whisper. I'm trying to keep it together, but my heart is racing, and I'm not sure why. It feels like there's something unspoken hanging between us, something I can't quite put my finger on.

Hugh's gaze is steady, but there's a hint of something softer in his eyes now. "My mom used to paint a lot," he says, his voice lower, almost reverent. "I made this room for her."

I swallow, suddenly feeling like I'm intruding on something personal. "That's nice of you," I manage to say, though it sounds weak compared to the weight of what he's just told me. I look around the room again, seeing it differently now. 

"You can borrow it," Hugh offers, his tone almost casual, but there's a seriousness in his eyes that makes me think he really means it. He's not just being polite; he's giving me something real, something that matters.

I shake my head, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. "No, I can't do that," I protest, my voice a bit shaky. "This room... it's for your mom. I don't want to take that away from her."

"Yes, you can," he insists, taking a step closer. His presence is strong, almost magnetic, and it's hard to argue with him when he looks at me like that like he's made up his mind and nothing's going to change it. "I insist."

I'm caught off guard by how firm he is, but there's also something comforting in his words like he's trying to tell me it's okay to take up space here, to make this place my own, even if it's just for a little while. But the thought still makes me uneasy, like I'm stepping over a line I shouldn't cross. "Won't your mom be kind of sad that you're just borrowing her room to some random girl?"

Hugh's expression softens, and for a moment, I think I see something like understanding in his eyes. "You're not just a random girl," he says quietly, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. His words make my heart skip a beat, and I blink in surprise, not sure how to respond. "You're Ashley's friend." He waves it off.

I nod slowly, trying to process what he just said. There's a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. "Hugh, I really don't know what to say," I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't seem to need an answer. "Then don't," he says, his tone gentle but firm, like he's permitting me to just exist in the moment without having to fill the silence with words. He glances back at me with a faint smile before turning towards the door. "I'm gonna go help Maggie with dinner. See you later," he adds, his voice easy like we're just two people having a normal conversation. Are we?

As he leaves the room, I'm left standing there, still holding the book. The door closes softly behind him, and I'm alone again. The room feels quieter now, more intimate like it's holding onto the traces of our conversation. The lingering smell of paint and the sight of the blank canvas makes me long after painting. The sketchbook in my room doesn't really do my creativity justice.

I close the door to his office, leaving me standing alone in the room filled with unfinished paintings on the walls and floor. I pick up a new canvas and put it onto the easel, the wood creaking slightly as I adjust it to the right height. 

There's a sense of freedom here, like I could paint anything and it would be okay. No one's here to judge or critique, no one's expecting anything from me. It's just me and the blank canvas, the possibilities are endless.

As I start to sketch out the first lines, the room seems to come alive with the quiet sound of the pencil against canvas. The nervousness I felt earlier begins to fade away, replaced by a growing excitement. The lines flow easily, almost like they're drawing themselves, and I lose myself in the rhythm of creating.

For the first time in a while, I feel completely in my element, like this is where I'm supposed to be. The outside world. Ashley, the awkward conversations, the tension, it all fades into the background. All that matters is the canvas in front of me and the vision in my head.

Time seems to blur as I work, each stroke of the brush pulling me deeper into the painting. I don't know how long I stand there, but when the sound of the door from the office opens, I half expect Hugh to walk in any moment, and my smile grows wide. Why?

But when no one opens the door, my mind grows suspicious. I listen to the door to the office, a sudden sound of something clattering and giggles makes my eyes widen.

The laughter continues, muffled but definitely coming from the office. My mind races with possibilities. Who could it be? And why would they be in Hugh's office? 

 The giggles. Those are Jasmine's giggles. Jasmine is in Hugh's office, and she's not alone. Why would Jasmine be in Hugh's office, and with whom? I try to think of any reason that isn't what it sounds like, but the laughter and the soft, flirtatious whispers leave little doubt. My fingers tremble as I reach for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment before turning it slowly.

''Oh, Oliver.'' Jasmine moans as the door creeps open. I see her sitting on top of Hugh's desk. Oliver is standing between her legs, his hand on her thigh as he kisses her neck.

Not wanting to intrude any longer, I force myself to make a sound, clearing my throat awkwardly. Jasmine's eyes widen in horror, and Oliver steps back quickly, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. "Alex!" Jasmine gasps, her voice a mixture of shock and fear. She slides off the desk, straightening her clothes in a hurry, trying to compose herself, but it's clear she's rattled. "This... this isn't what it looks like."

Oliver rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. "We... uh, we didn't mean for anyone to see."

Jasmine slaps him with the back of her hand. "You said no one would be here," She hisses, her voice laced with frustration and panic. Jasmine turns back to me, her eyes pleading now, full of panic. "Alex, please," she says, her voice trembling. "This was a mistake. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Just..." She sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Don't tell anyone, okay? Especially not Ashley."

I narrow my eyes at her, feeling a cold wave of betrayal wash over me. "You guys changed rooms a week ago just so you didn't have to talk to me," I accuse, my voice tight with hurt.

Jasmine's face flushes with a mix of guilt and anxiety. "I know, it was wrong," she admits, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I just didn't want to get on Ashley's bad side."

"But getting on mine is fine?" I counter, my voice rising with a mix of disbelief and pain.

"Alex, please," Jasmine repeats, her tone almost pleading now. "You know how she is. I didn't want to deal with her anger, and I thought... I thought we could avoid it if we just kept things quiet." I shake my head at her. I feel the tears wanting to escape my eyes. Without saying a word, I move past them and out to the hallway. I cannot believe her.

Chapter Text

All of this tension that has been going on is killing me. Between Jasmine, Oliver, Ashley, and whatever strange thing is going on with Hugh, it's starting to feel like too much. I just need a break, even for a little while, away from all the drama and awkwardness that's been hanging over me since we got here.

I head up to my room, dragging my feet with every step. The summer house, which was supposed to be fun and carefree, now feels more like a place I can't escape from. And even though Hugh has been so nice in lending me his mom's paint room, I still, once again, feel so out of place.

Jasmine not wanting to be on Ashley's bad side, but is fine with being on mine, it shows a lot about her. At this point, I'm mentally discussing just driving back home to campus. I don't even care anymore.

I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower, cranking the water as hot as it'll go. Steam fills the room quickly, fogging up the mirror, and the sound of the water is like a white noise that blocks out all the stuff running through my mind.

When I step into the shower, the hot water feels amazing as it hits my skin, almost like it's washing away everything from the past week. I tilt my head back, letting the water run down my face, hoping it'll help me clear my head, but it's hard. I feel trapped in my own thoughts.

Suddenly, I hear the door creak open. My body tenses up instantly, every nerve in me going on high alert. I'm frozen under the water, my mind racing. Who would come in without knocking? Did I even lock the door?

I wipe the water from my eyes, listening intently. Footsteps, which are soft but unmistakable, enter the bathroom. My heart pounds in my chest, panic bubbling up inside me. "Hello?" I call out, my voice shaky, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

I peek out from behind the shower curtain, expecting to see someone standing there—but there's no one. Just the empty bathroom, with steam swirling in the air and the mirror completely fogged over.

Still, something feels off. My skin prickles with unease like I can feel someone watching me even though the room is empty. I hold my breath, listening carefully, but all I can hear is the steady thrum of the water hitting the tiles.

"Hello?" I try again, my voice barely louder than a whisper this time. Silence.

I step back into the spray of the shower, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm not alone. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, each pulse quickening with the growing sense of unease. It's irrational, I tell myself. Maybe I just forgot to lock the door, and the draft made it creak open. That's all.

But even as I try to reason with myself, the feeling stays. The sensation of being watched, the weight of someone's eyes on me. I can almost feel it, like an invisible presence lingering in the room, heavy and oppressive. It makes my skin crawl.

Just as I finish rinsing off, the bathroom grows eerily quiet, the usual sounds of water and steam seeming to vanish into thin air. I hear something—a soft rustle, almost imperceptible—but before I can even turn to check, a large hand clamps down over my mouth.

My whole body freezes, terror gripping me like ice. The hairs on the back of my neck shoot up, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst out of my chest. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps through my nose as I try to scream, but the sound is muffled, swallowed by the hand covering my lips.

I reach out instinctively, trying to grab onto something, anything. My fingers slip against the wet tiles, useless. The water continues to pound down on me, but it feels distant now, like it's happening to someone else.

Whoever it is, they're strong, holding me in place with ease. The grip over my mouth is tight, pressing hard enough that my skin feels like it's burning where their fingers touch. I try to twist away, but I'm trapped, and that suffocating, horrifying feeling of being completely helpless sinks into me. My skin tingles, the primal instinct to fight kicking in, but I can't break free.

I want to scream, to kick, but I can barely move. The weight of the moment presses down on me, and my mind races, trying to make sense of what's happening, but I can't. It's all too fast. Too terrifying.

"Calm down, baby," a voice whispers in my ear, low and smooth. Familiar. My blood runs cold as I recognize it.

It's Hugh.

My whole body stiffens even more, if that's even possible, and my heart feels like it's going to explode from the sheer terror pumping through me. What is he doing? Why is he here?

The water continues to pour over me, making everything slippery and surreal, but all I can focus on is his hand over my mouth and the sound of his voice, way too close to my ear. His breath is hot against my wet skin, and the hairs on my neck bristle with every word.

My thoughts are racing, trying to figure out what to do and how to get out of this, but I'm paralyzed. His hand relaxes over my mouth. "Shh," he whispers again, and I feel him shift slightly behind me. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

The sudden anger hits me. Because what the fuck is he doing in here? My heart races as fear quickly turns into rage. I push against his chest, turning to face him with wide eyes.

"What the hell, Hugh?" I snap, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "What do you think you're doing?" In my panic, I try to cover myself as much as possible my towel, my skin still slick and the water dripping off me.

His eyes glint with a disturbing mix of amusement and confidence as he takes a step back, his gaze sweeping over me with a slow, unsettling smile. "You like the surprise?"

I blink in disbelief, confusion and fear mingling in my voice. "What surprise?" I ask, my voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.

"Calm down, darling. I thought you'd like me to join you." His tone is maddeningly calm as if this were a normal conversation. He begins to remove his shirt with a practiced, almost nonchalant motion. The fabric slides off him easily, revealing his toned but now menacingly exposed torso.

My eyes basically lick up the sight of his bare chest and stomach, he is so attractive. I feel a wave of nausea as I process the reality of what’s happening. This is wrong, so wrong, and the casual way Hugh acts like it’s no big deal only makes it worse. My heart pounds, my stomach twisting into knots, and I can barely breathe.

“Why would I want that?” I ask, my voice trembling, though I try to hold onto some form of defiance. My mind is scrambling for any way to get out of this situation, but it’s like I’m stuck in some twisted nightmare.

“Because you want me,” he says, his voice smooth and confident. His words hang in the air, making my skin crawl. His eyes roam over me, lingering far too long, and the way he looks at me is different now. It's darker and more possessive.

I grip the shower curtain tighter around my body, trying to shield myself from his gaze. “Get out,” I say, my voice shaking. “Now.”

His smile falters for a split second, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he just stands there, shirtless, the tension between us thickening by the second. “You don’t have to act all shy, Alex. I know you’ve been thinking about me. You can’t hide it.” His voice is low; almost like he’s sharing some secret we’re both in on.

The fear, the anger, the confusion, it all mixes together until I can hardly think straight. My body is on high alert, every instinct telling me to run, to get away, but I can’t. I’m frozen, trapped in this moment with him.

I glance toward the door, considering making a break for it, but Hugh is blocking my only way out. The shower continues to rain down, but now it feels like the water is suffocating me, pulling me under.

“I don’t want you, Hugh,” I force out, my voice barely audible. “I never did.”

The smile fades from his face entirely now, replaced by a look I can’t quite read. “You don’t mean that,” he says softly, but there’s a dangerous edge to his tone. “You’ll see.”

With that, he takes a step forward, and I feel the panic rising again. He gives a small, reluctant smile and steps out of the bathroom. I hear the door creak open and then softly click shut behind him. The second the door closes, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my entire body trembling as if it’s just now catching up to the terror I’ve been suppressing.

I slump down against the shower wall, the water still pounding on my skin. My body is trembling, but it’s not just from fear, something I hate to admit.

I wipe my face with my hands, trying to steady my breathing. I should feel pure relief that he’s gone, but there’s something twisted inside me that doesn’t. The panic is still there, the fear of what just happened, but layered beneath that is a strange, confusing pull. The way he looked at me, the way his voice softened when he said I didn’t mean it. It’s all tangled up in my head.

I close my eyes, willing the thoughts to go away, but they keep creeping back. I hate that part of me wanted his attention. That part of me liked the way he made me feel noticed and special. But it feels so wrong, all of it. I know it’s wrong. Everything about this is twisted and messed up, and yet, the guilt floods me for even entertaining the idea that I could have felt anything but disgust.