Recap: Ryan was standing half naked.

"You know, it’s rude to stare," Ryan drawled, his voice lazy and measured—or was it just my sluggish brain struggling to keep up? The words finally registered, snapping me out of my daze as a flush of heat crept up my face.

"I-I wasn’t staring!" I stammered, my words tripping over themselves as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, as a shield or so I thought.

He exhaled a quiet laugh.
"Really? Because it looked like you were about to write a thesis on my abs."

"Oh, for God’s sake," I huffed, avoiding his smug gaze. "This is your fault! Why did you say 'come in' when you’re… like this?" I gestured vaguely at his towel-draped form, instantly regretting it when his smirk deepened.

I flailed, helplessly.
"You knew I was coming in!"

He shrugged, flicking ash into the tray beside him.
"You knocked. Sounded important."

"It is important!" I snapped, glaring at him. "I need help getting something off the top shelf in the bathroom."

Ryan tilted his head, pretending to ponder. "So let me get this straight—you interrupted my alone time  to ask for a favor, and now you’re yelling at me?"

"I’m yelling because you’re... impossible!" I shot back, already regretting this entire interaction. "And because you’re standing there like… like—"

"Go on! Like?" he pressed, stepping closer, his tone playful.

"Like a freaking Calvin Klein ad," I muttered under my breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But of course, he did. His grin turned downright wolfish. "Flattering."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Just... can you help me or not?"

Ryan exhaled slowly, his smirk softening as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll help. Give me a second."

He disappeared into what I could only assume was his walk-in closet, leaving me standing there.

Seriously, was there a guidebook for handling someone this insufferably cocky? Because I’m going to need it.

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Ryan who was now wearing a plain grey t-shirt and matching sweatpant followed me into the bathroom. As soon as we reached, I pointed at the offending shelf.
"It’s up there."

He glanced at the shelf and let out a soft chuckle. "This? You couldn’t reach this?"

I stiffened, whipping around to glare at him. "Not all of us are as long as you."

"What?"

"What?" I echoed, gulping and pretending nothing had happened, though my brain was already staging a full meltdown.

Crap! Crap! Crap!
I really just said that. Out loud. To his face. Of all words, why not tall, giant, pole—heck, even Eiffel Tower would’ve been better.

"Long?" he repeated, one eyebrow shooting up in amusement.

"I—I meant tall!" I blurted, my voice an octave higher than intended.

"I mean you’re long like...you're tall!"
I hurriedly added, hoping to recover, but the damage was done. The words were out there, and no amount of backpedaling was going to make them disappear.

His amused chuckle only made it worse.

"I'm long?" he repeated, his voice laced with mock disbelief, barely managing to contain his laughter.

"Shut up! Can you focus on the task." I snapped, and turned away quickly, hoping he couldn't see the telltale red creeping up my neck.

Why did I even speak?

He snorted, stepping closer and brushing past me to reach the shelf. I immediately realized my mistake as his scent—fresh, clean, and annoyingly addictive—filled the small space.

Focus on the shelf, not on his arms. Focus on the shelf.

He easily grabbed the towels, lowering them down with one hand.
"There. Crisis averted."

"Thanks," I muttered, reaching for the items.
As I reached, my hand brushed his. I flinched, stepping back to create some much-needed space.

Ryan leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place. "Anything else you need me to rescue you from? A lightbulb that’s too high? A cabinet door you can’t open?"

"Can you not? It's your fault anyway. Who builds shelves so high?" I muttered, turning to put the items away, in reachable shelves.

He chuckled softly, and from that sound alone, I knew exactly what was coming. So, like any mature adult, I buried my face in my hands beforehand.

"I guess.. long people like me."
He laughed out loud, as he finished the joke of the century.

He's never gonna let that go, was he?

I peeked through my fingers, shooting him a glare. "Can you just leave so I can die in peace?"

"Fine, fine. I’ll let you recover. But, for the record, this one might be my favorite compliments I've ever received."

"Respectfully, Get out!" I yelled, pointing at the door.

He burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls, filling every corner with his amusement. "Didn’t knew I was leaving such an impression on you."

"You’re not! Stop twisting my words!" I snapped, my face now a fuming mess.

"You said it," he said, leaning in, that sinful grin taking over.
He waited, watching me squirm.
"And you’re blushing, so maybe you—"

"Ryan, I swear, if you say one more word—"

"—find me distractive?" he finished, completely unfazed by my threats.

I threw a hand over my face, groaning into my palm. "This is why I don’t ask you for help! You’re.."

"Distractingly long?"

"Ugh! I’m going to strangle you, if you don't get out."
I growled, my teeth clenched so tight it was a miracle I could speak at all.

Ryan stayed put. Arms folded. That evil glint in his eyes said it all.
"You know," he began, tilting his head slightly, "it’s not a crime to admit you like me."

I blinked, caught off guard.
"Excuse me?"

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. "I mean, all the signs are there. The blushing, the slip of the tongue, the way you can’t seem to look at me without getting flustered…"

"Flustered?" I interrupted, narrowing my eyes. "You think I’m flustered?"

He gave me a knowing look.
"A little bit, yeah."

I scoffed, crossing my arms.
"I’m not one of your groupies."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression turning playful. "Groupies? That’s harsh."

"Is it?" I shot back, annoyed. I didn’t know what burned more—my cheeks or my ego.

He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Look, I’m just saying, it’s fine if you’re attracted to me. Happens to the best of us."

That did it. I jabbed a finger at him, my glare as sharp as I could manage. "You think just because you’re… tall and… well-built that everyone automatically falls for you?"

He leaned back slightly, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "Well, pretty much, yeah."

"Oh My God! You're so arrogant!" I huffed, throwing my hands up in frustration.

"I can prove it," he said, his confidence so absolute that I’d never seen anything like it.

I raised an eyebrow, and snarled.
"Prove what?"

"One week," he said, stepping back just enough to give me some space, but his presence still felt like it was taking up the whole room.
"If you survive me for one week, I'll believe you're not attracted to me."

I couldn’t help but scoff, a little part of me already telling me this was a trap. Oh, this guy thinks he’s some kind of irresistible god, huh?

"Fine. Let's bet," I said, crossing my arms and pretending I wasn’t internally panicking. "If I win, you’ll do everything I say."

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the sudden shift in my tone.
"But if I win," he corrected, his voice lowering to a playful drawl, "You’ll do everything I say."

His smirk was back in full force, that little evil glint in his eyes telling me that he had already won in his mind.   A little voice in the back of my head screaming warnings.
He’s probably already got a plan to mess with you. Don’t fall for it.

But did I care?

No. Not really.

The challenge was set, and for some reason, proving that I wasn’t some lovesick idiot was way too tempting to pass up. What’s the worst that could happen? I reasoned, trying to brush off the little voice which was still frantically waving its arms.

I glared at him, and stuck out my hand.
"Deal."

He shook my hand, his touch warm and steady.

Why am I agreeing to this? 
Because agreeing to his wild theory would be worse than death.

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I cautiously stepped outside my room after a long bath, giving myself an hour to convince my brain that everything was fine. Which wasn't.

But there was no turning back now, so I squared my shoulders and walked towards the kitchen. The moment I entered, the mouthwatering aroma hit me like a freight train. Whatever was cooking smelled amazing.

"Dinner’s almost ready," Ryan's voice boomed, bringing me back to Earth. I frowned when I realised his back was turned to me.

"How do you do that?" I asked, my voice coming out a little dazed.

"Do what?"

"The thing… where you know… my—Ah, nevermind. Forget it."

Ryan’s laughter filled the room, rhythmic and casual, like he was amused by my confusion.

"I tell you, it’s not magic," he said, still grinning.

"I was hoping for it," I muttered, and crossed my arms, watching him as he poured something into the pan—soy sauce, maybe? The smell was intoxicating, making my stomach growl.

Why’s he so good at this? What’s next—baking cookies while playing piano?

I scoffed, turning my attention to the kitchen, which was a work of art itself. Even the utensils seemed unnecessarily fancy.

"Here you go," he chimed, turning around and placing the dish in front of me.

Okay, this was totally unfair.

"I-Is that—"

"Chicken curry? Yes it is." He handed me a fork before sitting down across from me.
"Have a taste."

"I don't know.." I muttered, taking the fork.
 
Ryan chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on me as I took a bite. The moment the food hit my tongue, it was like a symphony of flavors exploded—perfectly balanced, savory, and with just the right kick of spice.
My taste buds practically sang, but I forced my face to stay neutral—not that his smirk believed it

"Well?" he prompted.

"It’s fine," I said, too stubborn to admit defeat.

"Fine?" he repeated, his tone light, teasing.

I stabbed a piece of chicken a little too aggressively. "I didn’t say bad."

He didn’t press further, just leaned back in his chair, his calm gaze steady on mine. I focused on my food, trying to push away the strange awareness that seemed to settle in the room.

"You’re quiet," he said after a while, his voice soft yet teasing.

I glanced up, startled. "I’m eating."

"Hmm," he murmured, lips curving into the hint of a smirk. "If you think this is some trick to impress you, you’re wrong."

"Oh yeah? Even if it was, you’d have to try harder than this."

"I don’t do tricks. I’m a natural," he replied, chuckling as he shook his head.

"Well then maybe it’s time for you to start."

Ryan’s smirk deepened as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table.
"Maybe I’ve just been holding back."

I rolled my eyes, scooping up a bite of chicken. "Oh! Don't hold back. I dare you to try your best."

His grin widened, and for a moment, I thought I’d hit a nerve. But then he stood, his chair scraping lightly against the floor as he moved to the counter.

"You know,"he started casually, opening a small drawer, "I wasn’t going to, but since you brought it up…"

I blinked as he pulled out a pristine, white plate with an artfully arranged dessert already prepared—dark chocolate mousse with a delicate swirl of raspberry sauce and a small mint leaf perched on top like a crown. It was stunning, the kind of thing you’d see only in a five-star restaurant.

Oh, come on. Isn't this cheating?

Ryan placed the plate in front of me with a flourish, then sat back down with an annoyingly self-satisfied smile. "Impressed yet?"

I stared at the dessert, every ounce of self-control I possessed hanging by a thread. The chocolate mousse gleamed under the kitchen lights like it was mocking me; begging me to grab the spoon and dive in, but I refused to give him the satisfaction.

I folded my arms and lifted my chin, trying to look unimpressed.

"Nah..Not really," I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as my stomach growled audibly. I hoped the noise wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

"Suit yourself," he said smoothly, picking up the plate and turning it slightly, as if to admire his own handiwork. "Guess I’ll just have to eat it all by myself."

I shot to my feet, desperate to leave before my resolve crumbled.
"Good for you. I'll be in my room."
I declared, my voice clipped as I headed for the door, gripping the frame as I fought the urge to spin around and snatch the plate from him.

The second I was out of sight, I leaned against the wall, exhaling sharply.

"Your loss," Ryan's mocking voice boomed from the kitchen.

I closed my eyes, groaning inwardly.

He really tried taking advantage of my weakness, huh?
This wasn't just a bet anymore,
This meant war.

*******

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