CRAVE| 18+

eight

OLESIA

The house was quiet, except for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of the refrigerator.

I sat on the couch, flipping through channels, not really paying attention to what was on the screen. It was just a way to distract myself, to keep my mind from wandering to places it shouldn't.

Liam was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. I could hear the clink of glasses and the rustle of packaging. I glanced over, catching a glimpse of him as he reached for something on the top shelf. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of his toned abdomen.

I quickly looked away, feeling a familiar warmth spread through me. But this time, I wasn't going to let it control me. We'd had enough of that.

"Want something to drink?" Liam called from the kitchen.

"Sure," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you have?"

He appeared in the doorway, holding up a bottle of red wine and a couple of glasses. "This work?"

I nodded. "Perfect."

He joined me on the couch, setting the glasses on the coffee table and pouring the wine. I watched him, noticing the small things—the way his hands moved, the concentration in his eyes as he poured, the slight curve of his lips when he caught me looking.

We both reached for our glasses at the same time, our fingers brushing. A jolt of electricity shot through me at the contact, but I ignored it, taking a sip of the wine instead. It was rich and smooth, with a hint of berries. I let it linger on my tongue before swallowing.

"So," Liam said, leaning back against the couch, "what do you want to talk about?"

I hesitated for a moment. This was new territory for us. Our conversations usually didn't go beyond playful banter or heated arguments that ended in...well, you know. But I was tired of that being all we had. I wanted to know more about him, about what made him, him.

"What do you do when you're not at work or dealing with...me?" I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "You mean when I'm not trying to stay out of trouble?"

"Exactly," I said, rolling my eyes playfully.

"Well," he began, settling more comfortably into the couch, "I like to read. Mostly non-fiction. Stuff about psychology, philosophy, things like that."

I raised an eyebrow. "Psychology and philosophy? I wouldn't have pegged you for the intellectual type."

"Why, because I work with my hands?" he teased.

I give him a look. "No, it's just...unexpected," I admitted. "I mean, you're always so...physical. It's hard to picture you sitting quietly with a book."

He shrugged, smiling a bit. "I guess there's more to me than meets the eye."

I took another sip of my wine, feeling the warmth spread through my veins. "What got you into that kind of stuff?"

He paused, as if considering how much to share. "When I was younger, I had a lot of questions about the world, about people. I wanted to understand why people do what they do, why we think the way we think. Books were a way to explore that, to get some answers, even if they were just theories."

I nodded, tucking my feet under me. "So, are you any closer to understanding people?"

He smirked, his eyes meeting mine. "Not even close. But I've learned a lot about myself in the process."