The Stare

Chapter 18 : Pact of Pretense

~Kiara~

My eyes reluctantly fluttered open, caught in the crossfire of Claire's urgent whispers. "Kiara, wake up, we need to get out of here," she hissed with the enthusiasm of a getaway driver in a heist movie. Before I could process the gravity of the situation, I was unceremoniously yanked from the warm embrace of my bed.

Disoriented and half-asleep, I stumbled into the night, barely having time to wonder if this was a kidnapping or a sleep-deprived hallucination. Claire, ever the conductor of our late-night escapades, seemed possessed by a sense of urgency that rivalled a paramedic's response time.

As we ventured further into the moonlit streets, I regained some semblance of consciousness. "So, what's the emergency here? Are we in a race against time, or did someone confess their undying love for you, and now you're having second thoughts?" I quipped, my voice tinged with grogginess and curiosity.

Claire, her agitation palpable, responded with the urgency of a reality show contestant running out of time. "Yes, no, maybe... I don't even know, Kiara. Just promise me, next time, if I ever act like this, you'll slap some sense into me."

I couldn't suppress my laughter at the melodrama. "Consider it a deal. But remember, alcohol is like truth serum, it brings out the real you, no matter how much you try to keep it locked in the basement of your consciousness."

Claire, caught in the throes of her inner turmoil, muttered, "You're right. It felt like he meant every word, but I can't afford to take the risk."

I offered her a half-hearted, side-hug, momentarily ignoring her strict 'no-hug' policy. "Relax, Claire. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, and if it's not, then it's just another story for our late-night gossip sessions."

Claire couldn't resist cracking a joke, despite her distress. "Alright, alright, no more hugs, promise."

"Promise," I chuckled. "But before we return to the scene of the unspoken drama, there's something I need to get off my chest."

Claire, her curiosity piqued, leaned in. "Spill the beans, Kiara."

I took a deep breath and confessed, "Ethan might have kissed me, and, well, I enjoyed it."

Claire's reaction was a delightful mix of shock and amusement. "Wait, what? The 'goblin' kissed you? Do you like him? What's the game plan here?"

I couldn't help but clarify, "Oh, no, no, it's not like that at all. He was a bit tipsy, it was impulsive, and honestly, it was a mistake. I should probably talk to him and clear the air."

Claire's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Are you sure there's not a teeny-weeny part of you secretly thrilled by the kiss?"

I paused to ponder for a moment, then replied, "Well, I won't lie, he's not exactly the poster child for goblins. But no, there are no feelings involved. It was just...the heat of the moment, you know."

Claire leaned in with a knowing look. "Just remember, denial is the first stage of falling for a goblin."

I rolled my eyes, playfully protesting, "No goblin love here, I promise. Let's head back to the boys."

Upon our return to our apartment, an unsettling silence enveloped the living room. Notably, Ethan was conspicuously absent from his usual spot on the couch. Claire decided to embark on a mission to locate both Gray and Ethan. She returned with a cryptic smile and a folded note, which only fueled my curiosity.

"I guess, now I have no regrets," Claire declared, her grin bordering on enigmatic.

I joined in her laughter but couldn't help adding a note of irony, "I only wish I could say the same."

***

The office loomed ahead, and the weight of the impending conversation with Ethan clung to me like a relentless storm. I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom as I entered the building. The corridor seemed endless, like a path to an uncertain fate.

My heart felt heavy as I approached Ethan, who stood near the railing, his contemplative gaze focused on a glass he clung to like a lifeline. Clearing my throat, I fought to steady my nerves. "Lemon juice with honey, I presume?"

Ethan nodded, his gaze still distant, his grasp on the glass firm. "We need to talk," he said, his voice wavering, a blend of vulnerability and determination.

I agreed, "Absolutely, we do." I began to speak, but he anticipated my words and started talking as well.

There was a strange synchronicity to our exchange, like we were both trying to get through this conversation as quickly as possible. It was almost comical, the way we began speaking at the same time, then paused, neither willing to give the other an upper hand.

I chuckled, amused by the bizarre timing. "Seems like we're both eager to get this conversation over with. Well, you can start."

Ethan hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on the liquid swirling in his glass. Finally, he conceded, "Nah, it's fine. You go ahead."

With a sense of relief, I dove into the uncharted waters of our conversation. "It was a mistake...the incident...the kiss. It's probably best if we both just...pretend it never happened. We can go back to the way things were, no awkwardness required, I hope."

Ethan's eyes met mine, and I could sense his relief, perhaps even a hint of gratitude. "Is that what you want, then?"

I didn't waver in my response. "Yes, it's for the best. We work together, and this...whatever it was, doesn't need to interfere with that. That's it. Now, your turn."

Ethan, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice, confirmed, "The kiss... I agree, it was a mistake. There's no need to overcomplicate things. Let's just move on and, like you said, go back to the way things were."

A sense of closure washed over me. Our conversation had been surprisingly straightforward. I couldn't help but smile, relieved that this chapter of uncertainty seemed to be drawing to a close. "Well, that works out perfectly. Glad we're on the same page." Extending my hand, I offered a symbol of reconciliation. "So, friends?"

Ethan reached out to shake my hand, his response hinting at a degree of reluctance. "Colleagues."

As our hands met, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure and relief. Our professional relationship was a priority, and while the storm had raged, it seemed we had finally found some calm waters.

But as I walked away, I couldn't help but wonder, had the storm truly passed, or was it merely the calm before another tempest?