CHAPTER 5: ALMOST DOESN’T COUNT

Elena’s POV

There should be a warning label on Silas Noir.

Caution: Contains 100% pure emotional ice. May cause irrational irritation and extremely inappropriate attraction.

Because that Man is a walking irritating attraction.

I was wrapped in my favorite oversized hoodie, legs tucked under me like a cozy burrito, eating flaming hot Cheetos while watching a true crime documentary. The perfect vibe.

Until he ruined it. Again.

“You do realize that’s not food, right?” Silas’s voice sliced through the quiet like a guillotine.

I didn’t even look up. “You do realize your personality’s not sunshine, right?”

He walked around the couch like he owned the air. “My personality isn’t meant to be comforting. It’s meant to be effective.”

“Oh, it’s effective alright. Effectively making me lose my appetite.”

He looked down at the Cheetos bag with the same expression he probably reserved for crime scenes. “Artificial flavor. Artificial color. Artificial joy. Impressive .”

I smiled sweetly. “Is that jealousy I hear? Want me to sprinkle some joy on you?”

He sat down next to me not across, not far just right next to me. Cold storm in human form, and he chose proximity.

“I don’t need joy,” he said flatly.

“Right. You feed off silence and mild psychological torture.”

He tilted his head. “You’re surprisingly observant for someone who plays with paint like a toddler.”

“ Excuse me! I'm an artist! you’re surprisingly bitter for someone with great cheekbones.”

“I wasn’t aware my bone structure was part of your analysis.”

Damn! How could I slip just like that? Now I've boosted his ego.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I analyze everyone who annoys me.” Great excuse, Elena!

He looked me dead in the eye. “Then I must be your thesis project.”

God, how was he so attractive and so insufferable?

“I’m beginning to think you practice these one-liners in front of a mirror,” I muttered.

“No. I just have a low tolerance for nonsense.”

He plucked a Cheeto from the bag, held it between two fingers like it offended him, then ate it like it might be poisoned.

“Why are you even here?” I asked.

“I live here.”

“You don't!.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared. Like he was dissecting my soul. Rude.

I shifted. “You could’ve sat anywhere. You chose to sit right next to me. I smell like hot snacks and sarcasm.”

He turned his head slowly. “You’re loud. You’re unfiltered. And you don’t understand boundaries.”

“Say you like me without saying you like me.”

He blinked, unimpressed. “I said none of those things.”

I leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re a control freak, Silas. You walk around like feelings are beneath you. Honestly I've been here just two days,and you have been treating me like trash”.

He leaned in too, his voice cool as ice. “They are. They’re distractions. And you are the loudest one.”

My heart pounded. I noticed how close we were. How good he smelled. How much I wanted to kiss that infuriating mouth shut.

“You’re looking at me like you want to…” I started.

“Kiss you?” he interrupted, dark amusement flickering in his voice. “Hardly.”

“Oh really?” I said, tone light but daring. “Then stop staring like I’m your next obsession.”

His jaw tensed. “You flatter yourself too easily.”

I smirked. “You deny yourself too much.”

We were stupid close now. His eyes dropped to my lips. Again. And again, he didn’t hide it.

He moved just slightly, enough to make the heat between us unbearable.

“Tell me,” he said softly, almost bored. “Is this part of your routine? Throw yourself at people who clearly can’t stand you?”

I leaned in too. “Only the ones who clearly can’t stop thinking about me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re addicted.”

Then came the silence. That dangerous, pulsing silence that always comes right before something big.

Our noses nearly brushed. My breath got caught in my throat. His didn’t. He was weirdly calm about everything.

“Why do you even hate me so much?” I whispered.

He didn’t move, or even blink.

“Because you make noise in places that were built to be quiet,” he said. “Because you ruin order. And because when you walk into a room, it stops being mine.”

My stomach flipped. And then I said it.

“Then why haven’t you kicked me out?”

He stared at me like I’d said the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because I don’t know how to stop wanting what I hate.” my heart pounded hard against my ribs

We were a second from kissing.

Then I scooted closer to him.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” I whispered.

Silas’s lips parted slightly, eyes blazing.

“Why don’t you find out?”