OUT OF CONTROL (18+)

1 || Touched His Abs

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"What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath, glaring at the silent door like it owes me an explanation.

I banged on that goddamn door for the fifth time, and still, no one answered. Sweat was dripping down my face, soaking through my shirt like I'd just run a marathon in the Sahara. Aunt Sheila had sworn she'd be here, but where was she? 

This wasn't exactly the grand welcome I had in mind. Not even a cab waiting at the airport—had to haul my ass here like some lost tourist. And now, this? What the hell is going on?

I pulled out my phone again, jabbing at the screen to dial her number, but surprise, surprise—it wasn't reachable. "Fucking perfect," I muttered, wiping the sweat off my brow. My patience was wearing thinner than my shirt.

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" I yelled, pounding on the wood so hard my knuckles started to throb. Still nothing. My eyes darted to the house next door, and there was some old lady giving me the kind of look you'd give a stray dog—pitying but not enough to do anything about it. That only made me bang harder. 

Suddenly, the door flew open, and instead of hitting wood, my fist connected with something much softer—a face.

"What the fuck!" The shrill scream made me freeze. I looked down to see a short, blonde chick clutching her nose, glaring at me like I'd just slapped her grandma. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" she spat, her voice laced with venom as she rubbed her nose.

"Uh, shit, sorry," I stammered, not really sure how to handle this. I mean, I hadn't meant to hit her—who the hell just stands behind a door like that?

"Yeah, sure, you are!" she snapped, and before I could get another word in, she slammed the door in my face. Hard. I just stood there, blinking like an idiot. Did that really just happen?

I looked around again, still trying to process what the hell was going on. "Is this Mrs. Simson's house?" I yelled at the neighbour, who nodded, her old head bobbing like a wrinkled bobblehead. Great, so I was in the right place, at least.

But seriously, where the hell was Aunt Sheila? I pounded on the door again, harder this time. There wasn't even a damn doorbell—who lives like this?

"Sourabh! Aunt Sheila!" I was practically screaming now, and just as I was about to give up and call a cab back to the airport, the door swung open again. 

The door finally flung open, and this time, my eyes landed on something entirely unexpected—abs. And not just any abs. These were the kind you see on magazine covers, the kind that make you want to touch them just to see if they're real. The guy standing in the doorway was shirtless, his toned body on full display, the white shirt he was wearing hanging open.

My gaze zeroed in on those abs. Fuck, they looked good. I couldn't help myself. My hand moved on its own, reaching out to touch them. I just had to know if they felt as hard as they looked.

Before I could fully process what I was doing, my palm landed on his stomach, and damn, those abs were as solid as they looked. But just as quickly as I touched him, he slapped my hand away, hard enough that it stung.

"Don't fucking touch me!" a deep, masculine voice growled, and I blinked, snapping out of my trance.

Holy shit. The abs were talking.

"Why the fuck not?" I asked, my eyes narrowing as I stared at him, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Creep," he muttered, his voice filled with disdain.

That snapped me out of it. My eyes shot up to meet his, and for the first time, I really took in the guy in front of me. Dark, smoldering eyes, black hair that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, and a face so fucking perfect it could've been carved by the gods.

"Who the fuck are you, and what the hell do you want?" he demanded, his tone dripping with irritation.

I opened my mouth to answer, but my brain was still stuck on the fact that this guy had just slapped my hand away. And was now glaring at me like I was some kind of nuisance.

Even his voice was hot—rough, deep, and oozing with arrogance. I snapped out of it, clearing my throat. "Uh, is this Sourabh's place?"

He scowled, looking me up and down like I was a pile of dog shit he'd just stepped in. "Listen, I can't fuck you right now, alright? Give me a break." And before I could even respond, he slammed the door right in my face.

What the actual fuck just happened?

I stood there, staring at the closed door, trying to wrap my head around what just went down. I'd been punched, insulted, and now rejected by some shirtless dude with perfect abs. And all within the span of a few minutes.

"Who the fuck was that?" I muttered to myself, completely bewildered.

"And why the fuck is everyone slamming doors in my face?!"

This was not the kind of welcome I'd been expecting. Not even close.

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You come knocking, expecting apple pie and warm hugs, and instead, you get abs you'd like to do laundry on and doors slammed in your face. But hey, life's full of surprises, and sometimes, they come with a six-pack.

Now, I know what you're thinking—what's the deal with Mr. Ab-tastic? Trust me, he's as much of a mystery to me as he is to you. Stick around, and I promise, I'll unravel those muscles—I mean, mysteries for you.

Who knows, maybe you'll get your own knock on the door... just be ready for what's on the other side. 😉

Catch you in the next chapter, love. Don't keep me waiting!

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