𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 ✔︎ || clove Kentwell

She never misses || III

Clove broke the silence with a scoff, brushing past me toward the bathroom. "I'm showering," she muttered without looking back, disappearing behind the door with a soft click.

I exhaled, the tension in the room loosening just enough as I changed into my pajamas. The bed was too soft, the silence too loud. My thoughts drifted—flickers of home, and of Roman, pulling at the frayed edges of my composure.

Then the bathroom door creaked open.

I looked up instinctively.

There she was—wrapped in nothing but a towel, skin damp and hair dripping onto her shoulders. Water traced the curve of her collarbone as she crossed to her bag. And yeah... okay. I looked.

She was striking. No one could deny that. But I shoved the thought away like it hadn't happened. She was still Clove. Sharp-tongued, short-tempered Clove.

I rolled my eyes and turned over as she ducked back into the bathroom to get changed. The sheets rustled beneath me, warm and unfamiliar.

Moments later, she returned—this time dressed in a form-fitting shirt and shorts so short they could've been part of her arena uniform. She didn't speak. Just let out a tired sigh before climbing onto the farthest edge of the bed.

I let out a dry scoff. "Relax, Clove. I'm not going to bite," I said, smirking slightly. "No need to be scared."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Scared? Are you kidding? You tried to strangle me at dinner. And let's not forget the glass of water you threw in my face."

I straightened a little, heat rising to my cheeks. "You called me a pig!"

She burst out laughing—the kind that's more insult than amusement. "Please. You were eating that ice cream like a toddler at their first birthday party."

My jaw clenched. "So, which is it?" I snapped. "A pig or a child?"

Clove tilted her head, her smirk spreading like wildfire. "Hmm... why not both?"

That was it. My blood boiled.

"I swear to god, Clove," I hissed, "if you keep pushing me, I will pour another glass over your head. And next time? It won't be just to piss you off—it'll be to make sure it stings."

Her smile disappeared in an instant. "Whatever," she muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

I turned away, fuming, tugging the blanket roughly over me. We didn't speak again.

The silence wasn't peaceful—but it was better than open warfare. For now, at least, the bed felt like neutral ground. Uneasy. Fragile. But a truce, nonetheless.

As I shift in my bed, I am met with the captivating presence of the freckled girl beside me. With a gentle smile, I express my affection for her, saying "I love you baby."

The girl reciprocates the love, calling me her princess. In response, I pull her closer, grasping her waist as she straddles me. Deepening the kiss with my tongue, the girl leans in to place a kiss on my neck.

I jolted awake, breath shallow and heart hammering against my ribs. The dream clung to me like fog—too vivid, too real. And the worst part? It had been about Clove.

Her head was resting against my shoulder, her arms curled around me like we were something we absolutely were not. In the dim morning light, with her hair damp against my skin and her breathing soft and steady, she almost looked... peaceful. Even sweet.

I blinked and shoved the thought away. Nope. Not going there.

That's when she stirred.

Clove pushed herself off me like she'd just realized she'd been poisoned. "Why didn't you push me off?" she snapped, clearly mortified to have been anywhere near me.