Anna
Emma sat on the couch scrolling through outfit ideas for my upcoming meeting with Oliver's parents, holding dresses up on her phone for my opinion. But my mind was far away.
I couldn't stop thinking about Simon. And Lucy.
She clearly wasn't the right woman for him—rude, dismissive, smug. She hadn't even introduced herself properly when she barged into the house. The way she'd looked at me stuck in my head, like I was some stranger in my own home.
Simon walked out of his room, and my eyes were instantly on him. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, blue jeans, and brown shoes. The fabric of the shirt stretched slightly across his chest and arms, his muscles pressing against the cotton just enough to notice.
He smelled good, even from a few steps away—clean and warm, like cedar and something faintly spicy. Something sank inside me. A feeling of dread. I didn't want him to go, and I didn't even know where he was going.
I left Emma muttering to herself on the couch and followed him into the kitchen, pretending to get a drink.
"Hot date?" I asked casually.
"Hmmm. Yeah," he said bluntly, not looking at me.
"Lucy. She's… quite the woman," I said. "A bit rude, if you ask me."
"Good thing I didn't ask," he shot back, glaring at me.
My heart pounded.
"Well, I was just saying—she was rude to me, and I'd hate to see you with someone like that," I blurted, my voice slightly raised.
What was I doing? I wasn't the kind of person to interfere in someone's life. Why was I acting like this—like some jealous, toxic version of myself?
His face changed. His frown deepened. His voice rose to match mine.
"Who I date is none of your business. Mind your own. Don't ever think you have a say in my life again."
I froze, eyes wide, heart hammering.
He turned and strode past me. Emma, caught off guard, scooted quickly out of his way as he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
"What the hell was that?" she said, staring at me.
"Nothing… just—I don't know, Emma."
"You must know. Why are you two arguing?"
"I made a comment I shouldn't have. About his date."
"What did you say?"
"That she was rude. And not good for him. I don't know what got into me."
"Why did you say that? It's not like you to…" She trailed off, then her eyes widened. "Wait. You told him she isn't—"
"Oh my—" She smiled slowly.
"What?" I snapped.
"He got under your skin. You like him." Her face lit up with the realization.
"Emma, no. I was just warning him…" I turned away, rubbing my temples. "Oh God."
"Anna, have you got feelings for Simon?"
"No, of course not. I…" I rubbed my face.
"It's silly, okay? It's just a crush. It'll go away. I'm fake dating Oliver anyway, so—"
"Look at me," she said softly.
"You don't just like him, do you?"
I swallowed hard, throat tight.
"I think…" I closed my eyes, shaking my head. "I think I might be in love with Simon."
"Oh, Anna." Emma crossed the room and wrapped her arms around me.
"I never thought I'd see the day you'd be in love," she murmured.
"It doesn't matter," I said, rubbing at my eyes. "He's with someone. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me. He's cold and mean and rough and…" I turned away. "…and gentle and kind. And I never thought I'd feel this way about a man."
"Oh babe," Emma whispered. "You never know. He might just—"
"He doesn't, Emma. It doesn't matter. He's with Lucy. And I'm getting married anyway"
"But he's not Simon," she finished for me.
"Yeah," I whispered. "He's not Simon."
Simon
I left the house in a fury.
I couldn't believe her—her, of all people—telling me who I should and shouldn't date. Her, who was planning to marry a man for reasons that aren't right.
It was killing me, watching her with that trust-fund boy, pretending she wanted him, planning to marry him. She didn't know I'd already decided to end things with Lucy. I couldn't string her along knowing my heart already belonged to someone else. To Anna.
I'd rather be alone forever than be with another woman who wasn't her.
My rage boiled over. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. Not just because she'd tried to give me advice when she herself needed to take her own, but because of how I'd spoken to her—shouting, glaring. The look on her face when I'd done it.
By the time I reached the bar, my chest still felt like it was burning.
Lucy was in the corner, laughing with Mike. She looked like she was enjoying herself.
"Hey," I said, forcing a calm I didn't feel. "Sorry I'm late."
"Hi, Si. No worries. Ran into Mike here."
"You good, Mike?"
"Yeah, man."
"Lucy, you got a second?"
"Yeah, sure."
We stepped outside.
I turned to her. "Look, I want to get straight to it. You're a great person. We've known each other a long time. But it's just not clicking for me."
Her face fell slightly. "Oh…" she said softly.
"I would've loved for this to work between us. But I owe you enough not to string you along."
"I see. Well, I appreciate your honesty."
"I couldn't lie to you."
She gave me a tight smile. "Look, I feel the same. It just wasn't clicking. We've been friends for a long time. I think that's what we should stay."
I nodded, relieved.
"Simon" she paused "Does this have anything to do with a certain curly-haired, brown-eyed girl?"
My blood spiked at the mention.
"What?" I cleared my throat. "No. Not at all."
"I just have a feeling," she said gently. "That you may have feelings for her. But be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt. She seems like a nice girl."
"She's dating someone else. She's out of bounds."
"Is she?" Lucy tilted her head. "I have a feeling she may have feelings for you too."
A strange heat spread through my chest. My skin felt like it was on fire.
"She does?" I asked, leaning forward.
Lucy laughed softly. "Really, Simon? I know men are oblivious, but even a blind man could tell you that."
She squeezed my arm. "Talk to her. You just never know."
We went back inside. She and Mike were cozy now—maybe something would happen there. Who knew. After a few drinks, I went home.
As the car pulled up to the house, my heart pounded. The lights were still on. She was still awake.
Could Lucy be wrong?
She never was. Not about people.
I stepped through the front door, and the smell of vanilla and banana hit me.
Following the scent, I ended up in the kitchen.
Anna stood there, flour on her hands, whisking with all her might. Bowls cluttered the counter, banana peels piled to one side. She was humming softly, her hair loose around her shoulders, her golden skin glowing under the warm kitchen light.
There was magic about her.
She spotted me and jumped. "Jeez, Simon, stop doing that!" She threw a wooden spoon at me, and I caught it easily, smirking as I walked toward her and placed it on the counter.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. I couldn't interrupt this," I said, gesturing to the chaos around her.
"I'm stress baking."
"Ah. I see. And what are you stressed about?"
She stared at me for a moment before looking down again. "Nothing."
I took a deep breath, still focused on her.
"So… did you have fun with your girlfriend?" she asked, dragging out the word girlfriend.
A smirk tugged at my lips. Jealousy? maybe she did have feelings for me.
"She's not my girlfriend. I don't believe she ever will be."
Her eyes flicked up quickly, then back down again.
"Oh. Why is that?" she asked, clearing her throat, trying to sound casual.
"Well, Lucy thinks I have feelings for someone else. And she thinks that someone has feelings for me too."
Her whisking slowed. The tension in the room thickened.
I walked slowly around the counter until I stood in front of her.
She still held the bowl and whisk like a shield between us. Her beautiful brown eyes glinted, lips parted, her breathing shallow. Everything about her screamed kiss me.
"Oh… who… who is it?" she croaked.
"I think you know, Anna."
I gently took the bowl and whisk from her hands and set them aside. Her eyes followed the movement, then flicked back to mine.
"Do you feel the same?" I stepped closer, catching her tiny, soft hands in mine, running my thumb over her knuckles.
She closed her eyes, like my touch burned her.
"Simon…" My name came out like a soft moan.
My hand rose under her chin, tilting her face up toward mine. My lips brushed the air above hers.
"Do. You. Feel. The. Same?" I whispered.
"Yes," she breathed.
And just like that, I kissed her.
Her hands gripped my biceps to steady herself. Her mouth was sweet—like her scent. I was drunk on her taste. I wanted more. I needed more.
She pulled back, panting. "Wait. We can't. You're my landlord. And Oliver—"
"Fuck all of that. I…"
"This would complicate things," she said, looking away.
My hand found her cheek, caressing softly.
"It doesn't have to, Anna."
She leaned her head into my palm, eyes closing.
Slowly she moved closer, her body shifting until she rested her head against my chest. My hand slid to her back, feeling her heart hammer like a drum.
"I'm not going to force you or push you," I said gently. "Think about it. And I'll respect whatever you decide."
She tilted her head back, looking up at me.
And in that moment, everything else—the noise, the rules, the reasons—faded away.