"What's your favourite colour? I need to know what we're looking for," I asked, eager to find out Arlen's preference.

"Hmm..." Arlen paused, taking a moment to recall his favourite colour.

It is absurd but while doing it, he looks sort of adorable.

"Don't tell me you don't have one because everyone does," I stated, feeling confused.

A concerned expression appeared on Arlen's face as he rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Yeah, I know. I used to have one before. I just can't remember the exact color I settled with."

Noticing his weariness, I decided to give him a break. "How about we look for something that suits you?"

"Actually, that's a good idea," Arlen replied, his face brightening with a smile. "When you texted me last night, I didn't believe you would actually make it," he affirmed as he focused his eyes on the road.

"To be honest, I didn't believe it either. It seems like things always get complicated along the way," I muttered under my breath. Leigh and his secret schemes against my friendship with Arlen are beyond imagination.

I was dressed in a fancy red mini dress, with just the right amount of makeup and black heels. It was a deliberate choice to make a statement and show off in front of my soon-to-be stepbrother. It worked perfectly—I could still feel the satisfaction of winning as I walked down the stairs and found Leigh in the parlour, his face dropping like he had witnessed an accident. Mentally, I marched out of the house, silently chanting, "karma is a bitch."

"But it doesn't matter now. We have the whole day to ourselves," Arlen said, turning to me with the warmest smile I had ever seen from him.

Spending my entire Saturday with a guy wasn't on my agenda, but I didn't think it was a bad idea. After all, Arlen was a responsible person. "Yes," I agreed with him.

As we drove along a familiar road, I tilted my eyes towards Arlen. "Are we going to a fashion show?"

"Hmm, nope," he simply answered.

Impatiently waiting for our destination to be revealed, we parked by the side of the road. "Ever heard of Crystals in the City Center Complex?" Arlen asked as we got out of the car.

"Not really," I replied, pursing my lips while admiring the beautiful city of Las Vegas.

"Well, this should be interesting. Consider me your tour guide," he playfully boasted.

"Alright, mister. Right now, I'm totally dependent on your information, so lead the way," I joked, and Arlen chuckled. "So, which of these logos do you wear?" I raised an eyebrow at the handsome man beside me as we stood among exclusive designer boutiques.

"Guess correctly, and you can choose between a Brazilian or Mexican restaurant for our lunch," Arlen offered with a grin.

Smiling at the fun game we were about to play, I practically spun around the classy mall. "Let me see the name on the shirt you're wearing," I said, slightly jumping and trying to peek through his collar.

"No, no, Ava, that's considered cheating," Arlen laughed, stepping backwards.

"I just need a hint, and I'll crack the mystery," I playfully flashed my eyebrows.

"You're smart, aren't you?" He stared at me with a smirk. With that, I lowered my head to my shoes, then turned to observe the designer boutiques.

"You don't look like the Versace or Louis Vuitton type. Gucci... no! Harry Winston?" I closed my eyes, hoping he would say yes.

Chuckling, Arlen shook his head. "Hermes," he pointed to the logo.

Frowning, I said, "I tried. They both start with an 'H,' and honestly, this place is huge. I bet it has dozens of boutiques."

"Correct," Arlen nodded and held out his hand. My eyes darted to his open palm, and the urge to experiment with my often-asphyxiating reaction to Leigh's touch came up. Without hesitation, I placed my hand in Arlen's, and he clasped it, pulling me towards the entrance of Hermes.

After a few minutes of browsing through the men's shirt collections, we made our selection. It didn't take as long as I had predicted. We headed back to where the car was parked. "Alright, Brazilian or Mexican?" Arlen questioned me.

Surprised, I stopped in my tracks by the passenger door. "I thought I lost."

"They all start with an 'H,'" Arlen quoted my earlier remark, and I instantly began to blush.

Smiling, I settled into the car and clicked my seatbelt. "Brazilian for today."

His eyes widened. "Mexican next time?" he asked, desperation evident in his eyes.

"Yes," I murmured, looking away.

We entered an elegant restaurant with groups of elites seated around tables and booths. Our table was more lavish than an average evening meal, but Las Vegas never ceases to amaze me. I let go of my worries and joined Arlen in placing our food orders.

"How's it?" Arlen asked, eyeing my half-filled plate.

"I've had Brazilian dishes at one or two events, so it's like eating familiar food, except this is a high-quality, classy recipe," I replied, taking a sip of my drink after explaining.

Chuckling, Arlen agreed with me. "I don't mean to rush you, but if you're considering coming to support Hills High for the homecoming game, I'll come to pick you up before it starts on Saturday."

He looked nervous as the words rolled off his tongue. "Can I let you know during the week?" I kindly responded.

"Yeah, of course," he mumbled and smiled. "I told you I'd keep reminding you," he added, and I smiled back.

"You seem familiar with Brazilian food," I said to the guy sitting across from me.

"Well, I think Las Vegas is a great place for Americans to learn about other cultures. There are French, Hawaiian, Italian restaurants, and many more. It's like having Paris in Vegas," Arlen explained, struggling with his fork and knife.

"New York too," I added.

"Exactly. It's like wrapping up some of the largest cities in the world and placing them in this small city," he answered, making a quick gesture. "I can't see myself living anywhere else. Nevada is home to me," he added.

"Yes, I think Las Vegas is really a nice place," I agreed wholeheartedly.

"I'm glad you feel that way," Arlen said, his attention completely focused on me. I had to lower my head to hide my blushing when his hand reached out and touched mine on the table. "Here," he said gently.

Lifting my eyes, I saw a familiar Hermes bag that Arlen had been given at Crystals. "Isn't that your shirt?" I asked, feeling a bit confused.

A smile spread across Arlen's face as he looked at the bag. "Go ahead and see," he leaned back in his seat.

Suspiciously shifting my gaze between Arlen and the flat square box, I slowly opened it. "Come on, open it," Arlen encouraged me, sensing my hesitation.

I take off to open the red box and find a silk scarf. Smiling, I look up at a nervous Arlen who's staring at me with a worried expression. "It's specifically designed for you, I suppose," he says uncertainly, reading my expression.

"Thank you... it's beautiful." I smile at him and tie the luxurious scarf around my neck.

"It looks even more beautiful on you." Arlen Garret leans in and adjusts the scarf around my neck.

"Thank you." I compose myself and glance down at my lap.

"Smile." Just as I lift my head to process his random remark, the sound of a camera shutter goes off. "I'll send it to your email," he grins.

Great! Now Arlen Garret has a picture of me. Unaware of how I feel about it, we continue conversing until we both decide to take a walk around the city centre.

Arlen drops me home by seven in the evening due to a sudden change in weather. The sky darkens to a gravel-grey shade with large clouds gathering, covering all traces of the earlier vibrant neon-blue sky. Birds fly back to their nests as I hurry through the entrance door of the house, where a sense of relaxation and warmth envelops me. But unexpectedly, Leigh emerges from the parlour, wearing his usual black shirt and trousers, and throws his typical attitude at me. "You know, when your mum mentioned she had a daughter in a British religious school, I pictured an average teenage girl, not someone desperate to fit in."

"At least I'm making an effort. What about you? Daddy's puppet." I retort. "When in reality, you're planning on majoring in male prostitution for university," I whisper.

Immediately, Leigh's expression shifts to anger as he takes slow steps towards me. "Don't worry. It's just you and me in the house. You can tell me exactly what kind of prostitution I'm aiming for," he says once he's right in front of me.

"I don't have time for you." I step aside, attempting to head to the staircase, but of course, Leigh isn't willing to let it go. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back to face him. "Don't touch me," I yell, trying to shake off his firm grip.

"Why? Because you can't stand me? Because every part of your body reacts to my touch? Because you can't even come up with an answer right now, so you're planning on hitting me again to escape?" His voice remains calm but cold.

Breathing heavily under his influence, I tug at my hand. "Let me go, Leigh." My voice lacks calmness. It trembles with fear.
Right now, I wish someone else were home besides Leigh and me.

"You're going to tell me what kind of prostitution I'm aiming for, Ava. Or I'm not letting you go." He insists boldly, his jaw clenched firmly.

"I hate you." I spit out, annoyed and breathless.

"You're lying. You're fighting something, and we both know it." He reveals, gazing intently into my teary eyes.

I wish I had any options right now. I wish I could escape his grip and walk away from him, or even slap him for the hatred I feel towards him. I hate him, yet I can't think clearly with him standing right in front of me, his breath brushing against my skin.

"Please, Leigh, let me go." I let out a shivery sigh, breaking our eye contact as I fix my gaze on the wall behind him.

"So, I'm right? You're fighting something, aren't you?" His eyes soften, and he releases my wrist.

He runs his hands through his hair as he continues to stare down at me with gentle eyes. "I'm sure you have a date or something with Sofia Halt and Embry," I say directly to his face.

His eyes narrow at me. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? Why do you care, Ava? Why do you care about who I hang out with?"

Feeling embarrassed, I swallow and shake my head, forcing myself to speak. "I don't care about anything related to you. I just... I don't." The words are hard to utter, even though I've been battling a thousand angry emotions towards Leigh and the two most popular girls in my school.

Leigh lets out a small laugh and looks away from me, fixing his gaze attentively on the window. "It's pathetic of me to want something I can't have."

As his words escape his lips, my eyes dart up to find Leigh gazing intensely through the window. His Adam's apple moves slightly as he swallows. He looks sad and hopelessly angry. I don't know what to say to him.

I wish I did. I wish there was something I could do to help erase the frown that creases his forehead. But I know it's better to keep fighting my own feelings than to embrace the wrong magnetic emotions that will only hurt us in the end.

Leigh and I will never happen. It's simply not possible.

"I'm sorry," I murmur and step away from him, trying to push away the unfamiliar pain that fills my heart. I start moving up the stairs, my legs feeling stiff.

I'm halfway up the staircase when Leigh asks, "Does Arlen make you feel the way I do?" I twist around to find him still facing the window, as the weather outside seems to worsen.

"I'm going to take a shower." I refuse to answer that question. The problem is that no human has ever made me feel the way Leigh does. I don't know if it's good or bad, but I know it's not ordinary.

I head straight to my bedroom and sit on my bed, crossing my legs and burying my hands in my hair. I pull at my scalp, trying to suppress the pain in my chest. Why does it hurt to see Leigh that way? I hate him, don't I?
But the pain doesn't stop. In fact, I feel even more torn apart.

By the time I'm dressed in my night shorts and tank top, and I've finished drying my hair, the relentless rain mercilessly drums against the window. I gaze through the glass at the wind that could easily uproot trees and electric poles. The torrential rain cascades down the garage roof, and the whirring sound of the fierce storm makes it harder to look outside. So I wrap myself in my comforter and grab my mobile phone from the nightstand. With sixty per cent battery, I scroll through my inbox, finding half a dozen messages from Sawyer, Mum, Lilith, and Christian, as well as a recent voicemail from Arlen, checking if I'm okay.

Sawyer, who isn't in Las Vegas and is unaware of the storm, sends me pictures of the new dress her mum made for her.
Lilith texts me, letting me know she might stay at Embry's if the rain continues, and she expects a detailed account of my day with Arlen Garret.

Mum's first message says, "Ava, I can't reach you. I hope you're back home safely. Make sure the house is locked. I love you."

Christian's message reads, "We'll be back as soon as the storm calms down. Take care."

My mom's other messages say, "Leigh says you're home, make some warm tea for yourself. I love you once more."

Under my comforter, I reply to the important messages when suddenly my room goes pitch black. Poking my head out, my heart starts racing like a stereo. I force myself to look towards the window, where my suspicion is confirmed: we're experiencing a power outage. The terrifying sound of the storm and the darkness surrounding me intensify my overwhelming fear. Without a second thought, I toss my phone aside and quickly get on my feet, hurrying across the hall. As soon as I open the door, I run as fast as I can to the last place I should be, closing my eyes tightly. I collapse onto the bed, finding refuge in his solid, protective arms, feeling instantly warm and secure.

Holding Leigh tighter, his hands soothing my hair and back, my pounding heart begins to calm down, and comfort replaces the fear as we nestle together under Leigh's blanket, finding solace in each other until the lack of breath becomes extraordinary and Leigh's closeness starts depriving me of the oxygen I haven't yet consumed. I begin to suffocate, becoming still and shivering as his warm fingers gently glide across my skin.

"How uncomfortable do I make you on a scale of zero to ten?" Leigh whispers from above my head. I'm sure he can feel my racing heart and my struggle to breathe.

With my face against his neck, I respond in a whisper, "Fifty-five."

His chest rises and falls as he lets out a small laugh. "That's a lot."

"I know," I reply.

"But why?" His voice is gentle and pleading.

"I don't know, Leigh."

His hands don't stop their movement as he continues. "I know why..."

I lift my face from the crook of his neck, locking our gaze when I ask, "Why?"

"Maybe I mean so much more to you than you let on. Maybe you feel the same way I do about you." I stare into his eyes, searching for any hint of sarcasm or disgust, but all I see is sincerity and longing.

"And how do you feel about me?" I ask quietly.

"It's just... I've never wanted anything in my life the way I want you." If honesty feels this heavy, I don't blame cowardice, for right now, I can't steady my emotions to begin with. The crazy reality is that I am here, sharing a blanket with Leigh Boyce, our arms entwined, his intoxicating scent already filling the air, replacing the earlier smell of rain, while his fingers trace circles on my skin. In the pitch-black room, the only sounds, apart from the harsh splattering of rainfall against various surfaces and the cruel thunderstorms striking outside the misty window, are our intense, synchronized breaths creating a low, harmonious auditory sensation. And right here, Leigh just told me he wants me more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.

Not knowing what to do or how to react, I begin, "But we can't, Leigh. Our parents are getting married in three months." I remind him with a heavy heart of the bitter truth. "We're going to be step-siblings."

"Not only our parents deserve happiness."

He's right, but they found each other first. I believe they deserve this happiness.

Swallowing, I lower my gaze to his chin, avoiding the intensity of the emotions and desires I'm experiencing right now. "Leigh, I..."

Interrupting me, he starts, "What if we take some time to think before making a decision? You don't have to give me an answer right away." He suggests with a smile that can easily make anyone surrender.

"Fair enough." I bite my lip and smile before resting my head back in the crook between his shoulder and neck.