The hate between us

Chapter 19: Ella's Point of View

I sat at the kitchen table, still nursing my coffee, when Dad looked over at me, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So, how was the party last night?" he asked, clearly expecting a lighthearted response.

I kept my face neutral, not really in the mood to relive the neon chaos of last night—or to explain how Caleb had saved me from a drunk disaster. "It was good," I said, taking another sip of my coffee, hoping to keep things short.

Of course, Caleb couldn't let that be the final word. "*Good*?" he said, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating smirk on his face. "You mean *wild*. She jumped into the pool at midnight."

I shot him a sharp look, but Dad just laughed. "Sounds like you had fun."

I rolled my eyes, trying to change the subject, but the amusement in Caleb's gaze lingered. Thankfully, Dad moved on, sipping his coffee before asking, "So what are you up to today, Ella?"

I shrugged, not really sure. "I have no idea. School doesn't start for another two weeks, so I'm probably just revising some stuff. Trying to stay on top of things."

Dad's eyes lit up. "Caleb could help you, you know. He's good at this."

I grimaced, feeling the sting of Dad's words, though I knew he didn't mean them that way. "Thanks, Dad, for reminding me of my *failures*."

I pushed my chair back and stood up, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. It wasn't that I didn't want help—I just didn't want *his* help. Caleb had always been the smart one, the overachiever who finished everything early and effortlessly. He didn't need to be reminded of how much better he was than me at this.

I was halfway out of the kitchen when I heard Caleb's footsteps behind me. "Ella," he called out, his voice softer than before. I stopped in my tracks, but I didn't turn around. "I can really help you if you want. No strings attached."

I hesitated, feeling the urge to brush him off, but the truth was, I needed help with one of my subjects. And as much as I hated to admit it, Caleb was good—better than good, actually. He always seemed to understand everything so easily, and maybe, just this once, I could swallow my pride.

"Fine," I muttered, turning around to face him. "But if you make me feel dumb even once, I'm kicking you out."

A small smile played on his lips, and he nodded. "Deal."

---

We gathered in my room, textbooks and notes spread out across the bed. Caleb sat beside me, skimming through my notes, his brows furrowing in concentration. He was annoyingly focused, reading through everything like it was nothing, while I sat there feeling a little lost.

"You know all of this, don't you?" I said, leaning back against the pillows, trying to hide my frustration.

"I mean, it's familiar," he admitted, glancing over at me. "But I'm not here to make you feel dumb, Ella. I'm here to help."

I sighed, letting the tension ease just a bit. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

We spent the next few hours going over everything I was struggling with, and as much as I hated to admit it, Caleb was actually... helpful. He explained things in a way that made sense, breaking down complex ideas with ease. He didn't gloat, didn't make me feel stupid. He was just... Caleb. For once, it didn't feel like a competition.

After a while, my stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence between us.

Caleb laughed, closing the book in front of him. "Hungry?"

"Starving," I admitted, sitting up and stretching.

"How about I cook something?" he offered, standing up and stretching as well. "Parents are at work, so the kitchen's all ours."

"You cook?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been known to throw together a meal or two," he said, flashing a grin. "Let's make something vegetarian. I know you don't eat meat."

I stared at him for a second, a little surprised. He was actually being thoughtful. "Alright, fine. Let's see what you've got."

---

We headed downstairs, and as soon as we got into the kitchen, Caleb immediately started rummaging through the fridge, pulling out vegetables and ingredients with a kind of intensity that made me laugh.

"What are we making, Chef Caleb?" I teased, leaning against the counter, crossing my arms as I watched him.

He glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "How about a stir-fry? Something quick, but good. You'll keep up, right?"

"Please," I rolled my eyes, smirking. "I'll probably do it better than you."

He shot me a grin, and for a second, the air between us felt a little charged, like something was hanging there just out of reach. But then he turned back to the counter, grabbing a cutting board and some carrots.

We started chopping and prepping everything together, and to my surprise, it was fun—*too much* fun. The usual tension between us wasn't gone; it was still there, but now it felt different. Almost playful. Dangerous. I couldn't help but throw little jabs at him, and Caleb, always ready with a comeback, never missed a beat.

"Careful, you're going to cut your fingers," I teased, watching him chop a carrot with precision.

He smirked. "I'm not the one who needs to be careful." He finished slicing a piece and, without thinking, held it out to me. "Here, try it."

I raised an eyebrow but leaned in, my lips brushing against the piece of carrot he held between his fingers. I took a bite, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The way he was watching me—his eyes darker than usual, like something had shifted—sent a shiver down my spine.

He swallowed hard, as if the simple act of me taking a bite from his hand had stirred something deep inside him. And for just a second, I wondered if he felt the same strange, magnetic pull between us that I did.

I quickly looked away, trying to shake off the intensity, but I couldn't ignore the flutter in my chest.

We kept cooking, but the atmosphere was charged now, every brush of our hands or shoulder sending sparks through me. The banter continued, but there was something more to it now.

At one point, Caleb flicked a piece of bell pepper at me, and I retaliated by sprinkling water at him from the sink, laughing when he jumped back.

"Hey!" he protested, grinning. "We're supposed to be cooking, not starting a food fight."

I smirked, feeling bolder than usual. "Who said we can't do both?"

"Bold talk from someone who can't even chop an onion without tearing up."

"Excuse me," I shot back, grinning as I tossed another piece of pepper in his direction. "Maybe you should stop being so dramatic."

He stepped closer, the playfulness between us making the air feel heavier. "I'm the dramatic one?" He was close now, so close I could feel the warmth from his body. "Say that again."

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved, the space between us shrinking until it felt like we were on the edge of something we couldn't take back. His eyes flicked down to my lips, and I swear I stopped breathing.

Then, just as his hand brushed mine, his face barely an inch from mine, we heard footsteps.

Our parents walked into the kitchen, the spell breaking as we both jumped back, quickly turning our attention to the stove. I glanced at Caleb, who was trying and failing to hide the fact that he'd been as caught off guard by the moment as I was.

"Everything okay?" his mom asked, her eyes flicking between us.

"Yeah, just cooking," Caleb said quickly, running a hand through his hair, his voice tight.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of stolen glances and unspoken tension. Even as we sat down to eat, still chuckling over our earlier kitchen antics, the energy between us never fully settled. The almost-kiss lingered in the back of my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

By the time we finished eating, I was out of breath from the laughter, but my mind was still spinning. Something had definitely changed. And for once, I wasn't sure if I could ignore it any longer.