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Chapter 10 – The Accidental Touch
Huling Na-update:
2025-08-21 05:06:08The morning passes in a blur after Emily’s small voice shattered the fight. I’d plastered on a smile, crouched down, and reassured her everything was fine. Liam mumbled something about “grown-up disagreements,” and she seemed satisfied enough to scamper off with her rabbit.
But me? I wasn’t fine. Not even close.
His words echo in my head like a bad song: You deserve better than that stage.
It should’ve made me furious. It did. But buried inside the anger was something else—something dangerous. Because if I peeled away the judgment, the arrogance, the presumption… there was care. Care I wasn’t sure I wanted from him.
I spend most of the day in my room, fiddling with makeup brushes, reorganizing my jewelry, even re-glittering a pair of heels that lost some shine. Anything to avoid running into him. But the universe loves irony, and apparently so does fate,
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No Touching Allowed Chapter 10 – The Accidental Touch
The morning passes in a blur after Emily’s small voice shattered the fight. I’d plastered on a smile, crouched down, and reassured her everything was fine. Liam mumbled something about “grown-up disagreements,” and she seemed satisfied enough to scamper off with her rabbit.But me? I wasn’t fine. Not even close.His words echo in my head like a bad song: You deserve better than that stage.It should’ve made me furious. It did. But buried inside the anger was something else—something dangerous. Because if I peeled away the judgment, the arrogance, the presumption… there was care. Care I wasn’t sure I wanted from him.I spend most of the day in my room, fiddling with makeup brushes, reorganizing my jewelry, even re-glittering a pair of heels that lost some shine. Anything to avoid running into him. But the universe loves irony, and apparently so does fate,
No Touching Allowed Chapter 9 – Judgment and Defensiveness
Morning sunlight creeps across the ceiling when I open my eyes. My head feels heavy, but not because of work—because of Liam. Or more specifically, because of the way Liam looked at me last night.Like he didn’t want to look. Like he couldn’t stop.That flicker in his eyes has been replaying in my brain like a song stuck on repeat, and I hate it. Because the last thing I need is to wonder what my grumpy, judgmental, emotionally constipated roommate thinks of me.Dragging myself out of bed, I tie my hair into a messy bun and pull on a loose T-shirt with shorts. I don’t exactly feel like strutting around in rhinestones when Liam Carter already caught me looking like a walking disco ball.When I walk downstairs, he’s in the kitchen. Of course. Standing there like some kind of domestic ad, pouring black coffee into a mug, all tall and broad in a navy shirt that clings way too well to his sho
No Touching Allowed Chapter 8 – Unwanted Curiosity
By the time my shift ends at Club Mirage, it’s close to two in the morning, and my feet are screaming at me in languages I didn’t even know they spoke. High heels are glamorous until you’ve been wearing them for six hours, spinning, twirling, strutting, smiling at strangers while pretending you don’t feel the dull ache of loneliness at the pit of your stomach.But the music, the lights, the way the crowd cheers—it always covers it up, at least until the show is over.I swipe off the glittery lip gloss in the dressing room, but I’m still in my stage outfit when I leave. My regular clothes are stuffed in my duffel bag, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to change. Sequined shorts and a cropped top with rhinestones across the neckline aren’t exactly subtle, but they’re also not the worst thing I’ve ever walked home in.The Uber drops me off in front of Liam’s ho
No Touching Allowed Chapter 7 – Clash in the Kitchen
I’m not saying my cooking style is messy… but if the Food Network ever needed a show called “Cooking in Controlled Chaos,” I’d be their girl.The kitchen smells amazing—garlic sizzling in butter, onions softening, pasta boiling away—and also looks like a rainbow exploded in it. Cutting boards with half-chopped vegetables, a smear of tomato sauce on the counter, an open bag of shredded cheese leaning against a box of crackers that I may or may not have been snacking on mid-recipe.Emily sits at the counter, swinging her legs and grinning like this is the most fun she’s had all week. “Can I stir again?”“Absolutely,” I say, handing her the spoon. “You’re the official sauce queen.”She dips it into the pan, stirring carefully while I grab a handful of fresh basil and start tearing it over the pot. Leaves scatter across the stovetop, some fluttering to the floor. Oops.That’s when Liam walks in.He stops dead in the doorway, eyes scanning the ro
No Touching Allowed Chapter 6 – Talking to His Daughter
When I first walked through Liam Carter’s front door days ago, drenched from the rain and juggling my overnight bag, I noticed her right away—big brown eyes peeking around the corner of the hallway, like she’d been waiting for me.Emily.She didn’t hide. Didn’t mumble. Didn’t need coaxing.“You’re Zara,” she said, voice clear and sure. “Daddy told me you dance.”I’d smiled, instantly charmed. “That’s me. I also make the best hot chocolate in the world. True fact.”Her eyes lit up. “Better than Starbucks?”“Way better,” I whispered like it was classified information.From that first moment, it was like we’d known each other forever.Now, a few days in, Liam looks vaguely irritated every time he sees us together. Which is perfect, because this afternoon we’re sitting on the living room floor building the world’s tallest Lego tower while he’s trying to read something boring at the dining table.“Careful,” I tell Emily, hand
No Touching Allowed Chapter 5 – Second Morning Clash
I don’t usually consider myself a morning person, but if I’m awake, I want the morning to be alive. Music, coffee, maybe a little dancing around in my pajamas—nothing crazy, just… not dead silence.The thing about Liam Carter’s house? It feels like a library. Even the floorboards seem to creak politely.So, at eight-thirty, after a long hot shower and a caffeine kick from the extra-strong coffee he left in the pot, I decide it’s time to add a little life to the place. I pull up my playlist—bright, poppy, perfect—and crank the volume on my phone’s speaker.It’s not ear-splitting, but it’s definitely not background noise either. I’m halfway through making scrambled eggs, dancing barefoot in front of the stove, when I hear it—the heavy tread of footsteps coming down the hall.A moment later, Liam appears in the kitchen doorway, hair mussed, T-shirt rumpled, and eyes narrowed like I’ve just committed a federal crime.“Is this some kind of test?” he asks, voice low but sharp.I grin, flipp
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