We pulled up to the party location, and even from the car, I could feel the pulsing bass of the music vibrating through the air. It was dark, but the house was lit up with neon lights, casting a strange glow over everything. The moment I put the car in park, I turned to Ella, expecting her to jump out. Instead, she started pulling her top off.
"Wait—what are you doing?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended as she revealed a bikini underneath.
Ella shot me a playful look, clearly enjoying my confusion. "It's a pool party," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"It's night," I said, still processing the fact that she was now sitting in the passenger seat wearing nothing but a bikini. *Who goes to a pool party at night?*
"Exactly," she replied with a smirk. "It's with neon paint. Trust me, it'll be fun."
Before I could protest further, she jumped out of the car and came over to my side. In one swift motion, she yanked at my shirt, pulling it over my head without any warning. I barely had time to react, my arms automatically lifting as she pulled it off. "What the—"
"You'll like it," she said, pushing me gently but firmly against the car before turning and striding toward the house. I stood there, shirtless, still trying to process what had just happened. For a moment, I stared after her, watching as she confidently made her way to the party, her body glowing under the neon lights.
*What the hell am I doing here?*
Shaking my head, I followed her, the thumping music growing louder as I approached the entrance. As soon as I stepped inside, I was hit with a wave of heat and energy. People were everywhere—dancing, laughing, their bodies covered in neon paint that glowed under the blacklights. The whole place felt like another world, chaotic and vibrant.
And there she was—Ella—already drifting through the crowd like she belonged here, completely in her element.
I followed her to the bar, where she introduced me to a group of her friends, most of them in swimsuits, neon paint streaked across their skin. They were loud and friendly, but I barely paid attention, especially when one of the guys she introduced me to turned out to be the one she was supposed to go on a date with earlier.
"Sorry about that," Ella said, flashing him an apologetic smile, her voice smooth and casual. "Something came up."
She made up some excuse, her voice light and carefree, and he didn't seem to mind. He nodded, laughing it off, but something about the whole exchange didn't sit right with me. I stood there, my jaw clenched slightly, watching her as she drifted away from the group, disappearing into the crowd.
I should've shrugged it off—none of this was my business. But the tension that had been simmering inside me since dinner hadn't faded. If anything, it was getting worse.
After a while, I spotted her again. She was standing near the pool, laughing with a group of people I didn't recognize, her body practically glowing under the neon lights. But what made my blood boil was the paint—bright neon handprints smeared across her bikini top and lower back, one clear handprint on her ass.
I could feel the anger rising in my chest, a deep, irrational rage that had no business being there. My feet moved before I could think, cutting through the crowd as I made my way toward her. The pounding music blurred around me, and all I could focus on was the way she was standing there, laughing, completely unaware of the firestorm building inside me.
When I finally reached her, she turned to look at me, her smile faltering slightly as she saw the look on my face. "Caleb—what's wrong?"
I didn't answer right away, my eyes flicking over her, the sight of those handprints still burning in the back of my mind. "Who the hell put their hands on you?" I asked, my voice low and tense.
She raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement. "Relax, it's just paint. Everyone's messing around with it."
"It doesn't look like 'just paint' to me," I snapped, glancing at the handprint on her ass again, the anger flaring hotter. "You're seriously okay with this?"
Ella stared at me for a second, her amusement fading as she crossed her arms over her chest, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by something more serious. "What's your problem?"
"My problem?" I echoed, stepping closer, my heart pounding. "My problem is you walking around like this, letting anyone leave their mark on you. You didn't even notice, did you?"
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she was silent, her gaze hardening as the tension between us crackled in the air. "You don't get to tell me what to do," she said, her voice low but sharp. "I'm not your responsibility, Caleb. I don't need you playing the overprotective brother—or whatever it is you think you're doing."
I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides as the anger and confusion twisted together inside me. She was right—I didn't have any right to be angry. But seeing her like that, with someone else's hands all over her, made something snap inside me.
And I didn't know what to do with it.
YOU ARE READING
The hate between us
Storie d'amoreElla and Caleb have spent their entire lives in a complicated relationship, caught between rivalry and unspoken feelings. Growing up as step-siblings, their bond has always been one of friction, but as they reach their twenties, the line between hat...
