Chapter five.

Layla's POV.

I’d been lying awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling, my head was a chaotic mess, and I hated it... I didn't want to think about anything, not about Donald, not about the messy divorce and certainly not about my brother's bestfriend.

I slipped out of bed, barefoot on the cool floor, and walked towards Adrian's room, he and I have so much to talk about the company anyway.

We never knocked on each other’s doors; that had been our rule since childhood. I didn’t think twice before turning the handle and stepping inside.

I suddenly froze on the spot as my gaze landed on him.

Not Adrian.

Liam.

He had just come from the shower, a towel knotted low around his waist, his hair damp and dark against his forehead. Droplets of water slid down his chest. For a second I forgot how to move, how to speak, maybe even how to breathe.

He stopped too, hand still on the bathroom doorframe, eyes locking on me. His voice, when it came, was low and rough.

“Layla.” he mumbled, his voice low and rough.

I swallowed hard. “I... I thought this was Adrian’s room.”

His mouth curved, just slightly. “It is, I'm just crashing here for a while."

“Oh.” The word sounded small in the thick quiet.

We stood there in silence, my heart hammered painfully in my chest.

“I should go,” I said, but I didn’t take a step to leave.

He gave a slow nod, his eyes still locked on mine.

Maybe it should have ended there, but something about the way he looked at me undid me. I’d spent months being invisible, unheard, untouched. And here was someone who looked at me... not around me, but at me.

Before I realized it, I took a hesitant step forward. My hand lifted, drawn by the faint heat rolling off him. The towel rustled as he shifted, his muscles tightening under damp skin. I stopped a breath away, my fingers trembling.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just watched me with those gray eyes.

My hand rose another inch and brushed his shoulder... lightly, the way you might touch something you’re not sure is real. His skin was warm, and for the briefest second the world stilled around that single point of contact.

I hadn’t meant to; it was reflex.

The silence thickened until I could hear nothing but our breathing. His chest lifted under my palm, slow and restrained, and the steadiness of it made me realize what I was doing.

I pulled back at once, my hand falling to my side. “I’m.. I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know why I..

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. No anger, no edge.

I looked away, heat flooding my face. “Where’s Adrian?”

“He stepped out to get something. Said he’d be back in a few minutes.”

“Right.” My voice cracked. “I’ll talk to him later then.”

I turned toward the door, eager for cool air, to calm my racing heart.

“Layla.”

I paused but didn’t look back. “Yes?”

"It's good to have you back here.”

My heart yet again, stopped for a second before I regained my breath.

"Thank you, Liam." I mumbled and quickly ran out.

Out in the corridor, the air felt cooler against my skin. I leaned against the closed door for a long moment, trying to steady my breath. My hand still tingled where I’d touched him, as if the contact had left a faint imprint.

I hadn’t wanted anything to happen. I only wanted to feel something again.