The hate between us

Chapter 8: Caleb's Point of View

I stood in my room, leaning against the doorframe after Ella left. Her words were still ringing in my head—*What do you want from me?*—but I didn't have an answer. The truth was, I didn't even know myself. All I knew was that something had shifted, something that had always been there between us but never acknowledged. And now, it was impossible to ignore.

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake off the heat still clinging to my skin from the way her body had pressed against mine when I'd gotten too close in the kitchen. I knew I'd pushed it too far, but seeing those scratches on her face, knowing I had something to do with her getting lost out there... it flipped something in me. The protective instinct was unexpected. And unwelcome.

A sudden noise from downstairs snapped me out of my thoughts—the front door opening, followed by familiar voices. My mom. Ella's dad.

I pushed off the doorframe and headed downstairs, stopping halfway when I heard Ella talking to my mother. She was apologizing, her voice soft but strained. It sounded like it had taken everything in her to come downstairs to say something. I couldn't help but feel the smallest twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry I didn't really talk to you at the funeral," Ella was saying, standing near the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked small in that moment, her usual sharp edges dulled by exhaustion. The day had been long for everyone.

My mom, as always, was kind. "It's alright, dear," she said, giving Ella a soft smile. "You've been through a lot today. We all have."

Then she looked past Ella, scanning the room. "Is Caleb still here?"

That was my cue. I walked the rest of the way down the stairs, stepping into the living room, feeling the weight of all the eyes on me. I gave a brief nod to my mother, and then my gaze automatically drifted to Ella. She was already watching me.

She didn't say anything—didn't need to—but there was something there in the way she stared, something that made my chest tighten. She looked like she wanted to say something, but then, with a quick glance at her father, she just sighed.

"Goodnight, everyone," Ella said, turning toward the stairs.

My mom said goodnight, and so did her father, but I was too busy watching her leave, the way she moved so casually but deliberately. My eyes followed her every step, my mind running over everything that had happened between us that night, trying to piece together what was happening.

I couldn't tear my gaze away. I watched her climb each step, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. And then, just as she was about to turn the corner at the top of the stairs, she glanced back at me. She caught me staring, and a wicked grin pulled at the corners of her lips.

Ella lifted her hand, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she gave me the middle finger.

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head. Classic Ella.

That gesture—so simple, so her—was like a reminder of everything we were, everything that had been building between us since we were kids. She always knew how to push my buttons, always knew how to get under my skin, and now... it was like she was daring me. Daring me to keep pushing, to keep playing this dangerous game we had been playing for so long.

And damn if I wasn't tempted.

I looked away, trying to focus on the conversation in the room, but it was pointless. My mind was upstairs with her, replaying every word, every look, every touch from earlier tonight. And as much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't running anymore. Not this time.