STEP CLOSER

Chapter 2

The first light of morning slid quietly across my bedroom floor, soft and slow, as if the day wasn’t quite ready to begin yet. I lay still, the rough cotton sheets scratching my skin, my heart pounding unevenly beneath the fabric. Just six feet away, on the other side of the hallway, Roman’s room sat silent. I knew because last night I heard the soft creak of his door closing. I could almost feel the cold space between us a silence thick enough to touch.

The air smelled faintly of rain from last night, mixed with the faint musk of Roman’s cologne, lingering like a ghost. It was sharp, almost too clean, like something deliberately worn to keep others at arm’s length. I swallowed hard, trying to push away the uneasy feeling twisting in my chest.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shivered as my bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the old heater somewhere down the hall, and the occasional creak of the house settling. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the weight of loneliness settle deep into my bones.

I was so close to him closer than I had been in years but it felt like we were galaxies apart.

I pulled on a loose hoodie, the fabric soft and familiar, and made my way toward the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit me before I even opened the door, bitter and strong. I took a deep breath, hoping it would settle the restless flutter in my stomach.

Roman was already there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. He didn’t look at me, but I could feel his eyes, cold and sharp, like icy knives just grazing my skin.

“Morning,” I said softly, trying to sound casual.

He didn’t respond right away. Finally, without turning, he said, “You’re up early.”

I shrugged, reaching for a mug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

There was a pause long enough that the silence between us felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“Figures,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

I wanted to ask what that meant, but I swallowed the words. Instead, I sipped the coffee bitter and hot, a stark contrast to the cold knot twisting inside me.

Roman finally turned, eyes dark and unreadable. “Look, this isn’t some cozy little dorm. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or make things easy.”

His words stung, sharp and cold, but there was something else beneath them, something about him i cannot quite put together.

“I’m not asking for that,” I said, voice steady even though my heart threatened to race.

He didn’t reply. Just grabbed his keys from the counter and headed for the door. “Keep to your side,” he said over his shoulder. “Six feet. That’s all I’m asking.”

The door shut behind him with a final click that echoed through the house.

I stood there, mug still warm in my hands, feeling the silence stretch out in all directions.

Six feet. That was the distance between his room and mine. Close enough to hear him breathing.

Even when the sun was high, the house felt too quiet, too empty.

The scent of garlic and rosemary curled through the air as I shuffled down the creaky wooden stairs. Mom’s voice floated from the kitchen like a gentle anchor, “Ariana, dinner’s ready. Come eat, please.”

I wiped my palms on my jeans, trying to steady the nervous flutter inside my chest. I’d been tucked away in my room, hiding from everything mostly from Roman’s silent coldness that wrapped around the house like a thick fog. Tonight, Mom had pressed a plate into my hands, wrapped carefully in foil.

“Here,” she said softly, “It’s for Roman. He won’t come down. Maybe you can get him to eat something.”

Her eyes held something I couldn’t quite read, worry mixed with exhaustion. I nodded silently, gripping the warm plate.

The hallway felt endless as I walked towards Roman’s door. It was barely six feet from mine, the thin walls between us offering little privacy, yet so much distance. I stopped just short of his door, the polished wood cool beneath my fingertips.

I hesitated, ready to knock, when a sound made me freeze.

Moans. Whispered words.

i held my breaths of someone caught between pleasure and need.

Then a woman’s voice soft, breathless, aching.

“Roman... please... don’t stop.”

His voice, low. “Not yet. You belong to me.”

The woman whimpered, her voice trembling. “I want you. Now.”

My throat tightened, my heart pounding painfully as I clutched the plate tighter. A rush of heat burned in my chest anger, jealousy, confusion all tangled and raw.

I swallowed hard, my fingers slipping from the plate, letting it clatter softly onto the floor behind me. My legs felt weak as I turned and fled back down the hall.

I turned sharply, my pulse roaring in my ears as I made my way back down the stairs. My feet moved fast, faster than my thoughts, faster than my heart could catch up.

Back in the kitchen, Julian looked up, surprised.

"He didn’t open the door?"

I kept my voice steady, pushing the plate toward her. "I think you should give the food to Roman yourself."

I turned to leave, my back already halfway to the hallway when her hand caught mine.

"Ari..."

I didn’t face her.

"I know this isn’t easy for you," she said gently. "Please try to understand me."

I didn’t know what she meant exactly. Understand what? That she married a man whose son made my skin burn with things I didn’t want to feel? That I was now under the same roof with someone who looked at me with so much disgust in his eyes?

I nodded slowly. "I’m fine, Mom. I just need some air."

She let me go.

Upstairs, I closed my door with more force than necessary. My chest was tight, my breaths uneven.

I leaned against it, head tilted back, eyes closed.

Why did it bother me so much? He was allowed to have s*x. To bring girls over. He was older, hotter than any guy have seen, and probably used to getting whoever he wanted. I was just the new girl in his house. The step-sister. Nothing more.

But the sounds were still there, echoing in my mind. The way she said his name. The creaking of the bed. The low grunt I thought I heard him make.

I sank down to the floor, hugging my knees, trying to push it all out of my head.

Bu

t he was just six feet away.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Even when I knew I shouldn't.