"All done," Daphne said, dusting her palms together as she stepped back to admire the living room.
The cushions were aligned, the floor gleamed faintly, and even the remote controls sat neatly on the table. She exhaled in satisfaction, then reached for the brown envelope resting near the edge of the table. She had found it earlier while sweeping under the sofa, slightly crumpled and forgotten. It was definitely her dad's.
A sharp knock suddenly came from the door. And her lips curved into a small smile, because if her father came home during the day and found her home too, ice cream was almost guaranteed. Sometimes two scoops, sometimes with toppings.
Her smile widened immediately. She grabbed the envelope and rushed forward, already imagining the way her dad would pat her head and tease her for playing housekeeper again.
She swung the door open and froze.
Kendrick stood outside the door. And for a split second, he forgot how to breathe.
Daphne had clearly expected someone else. Her face was open, bright, and unguarded. Her smile was soft and genuine in a way he rarely saw. That kind of excited and welcoming smile wasn't for him. And for some reason, it hurt.
She was wearing a loose, thin gown that clung just enough to hint at curves she never tried to show off. Her hair was slightly messy, and her feet bare against the tiled floor. She looked… relaxed, comfortable, and beautiful in a way that hit him too fast and too hard.
His eyes traveled over her without permission. From her face, to her collarbone, to the way the fabric dipped slightly at her chest, then lower to her legs.
He swallowed. "Hi," he said dazed, like the word slipped out on its own.
Daphne smile vanished as reality slammed into her all at once. Her hands flew up before her brain caught up, and she smacked his face flat-palmed.
"Ouch!" Kendrick stumbled back a step, hand flying to his cheek. "What was that for?"
"Oh my God-" Daphne sucked in a sharp breath, instantly horrified. "I'm sorry- I thought you were my dad."
She darted behind the door, peeking out from the edge, her heart racing embarrassingly fast.
Kendrick rubbed his cheek, then leaned forward slightly, craning his neck to look at her. "Why are you hiding?"
"Why are you here?" she shot back, pushing the door forward so it nudged him back outside.
"I'm here to pick you up."
"I'm not a kid," Daphne snapped. "I don't need to be picked up, so leave. I'll find my way."
"What have I done already?" Kendrick whined, spreading his hands helplessly.
"Go away," she said firmly, pushing the door shut and turning on her heel.
She had taken only three steps toward her room when she sensed another movement and she turned instantly.
Kendrick stood inside the house, just a few metres away.
Her eyes widened. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to leave!"
"Well, I decided to stay," he said calmly. "Because it is only fair. You come to my place all the time, and I can't be here even once?"
"That's different!" she hissed. "You can't just barge into a house where a girl is alone, you freaking creep."
"It's not different at all kitten," he said lightly. "And relax. If anyone's going to be a victim here, it'll probably be me."
She stared at him like she was reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.
"Promise you'll stay here," she said, pointing sharply at the couch.
Kendrick immediately obeyed, dropping onto it and crossing his legs. He grabbed the remote and turned the television on like he owned the house.
Daphne glared at the back of his head before retreating into her room. She didn't trust him at all. He was unpredictable, irritating, and far too comfortable in her space.
Minutes later, as warm water hit her skin in the bathroom, she heard movements. Her stomach dropped.
Had she forgotten to lock the door?
"You fucking liar," she shouted. "You promised to sit still!"
"I didn't make any promise," Kendrick replied calmly.
She could picture it too clearly. Kendrick touching everything, reading things he shouldn't and smiling to himself like the menace he was.
When she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped tightly in her robe, wet hair dripping down her back, she found him at her dressing table, fully absorbed. So she crept up behind him and swung.
He caught her wrist instantly.
He turned, grinning. "I'm getting better." Then his smile faltered.
Her wet hair clung to her neck. Water traced slow paths down her collarbone. The robe hugged her frame tighter than it should have. When he realized his eyes were betraying him, he looked away immediately clearing his throat.
Daphne went to her closet, pulling out a dress. Kendrick appeared beside her like magic and snatched it.
"What's this?" He asked, looking at it as if it was ugly.
"It's my dress," she snapped, yanking it back.
"This is too big for you." He took it from her and pulled it on. "Look. It's even loose on me."
She burst out laughing, covering her face. "Take it off. You look ridiculous."
"Trust me," he said, stepping forward seriously. "You'll look worse."
He scanned her closet with an unimpressed expression, before pulling out jeans and a strapless crop top. "These are better."
She took them and tossed them onto the bed. "Thank you. Now get out."
"Why?" he pouted.
"Because I want to dress. And I can't do that in front of you."
"Oh, okay."
"Won't you take that off?" She asked as he was about to reach the door.
He turned. "What?"
"Give back my gown."
He wandered back and removed her gown, placing it carefully into her waiting palm.
Then he stepped out, and she locked the door this time.
Few minutes later…
The click barely finished before it opened again.
She glared at him as he rushed in, grabbing the dryer, and she sat on her bed.
Kendrick approached and ook it from her gently. "Sit still." He said as she wanted to protest, and she let him be because he wasn't so bad the last time.
He dried her hair carefully, and his fingers are never rough or careless. When he was done, he went to her vanity and brought her comb, cream, and hair band.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" she asked warily as he watched him dump everything on her bed.
"Shut up."
He turned her gently, his hands warm against her scalp. His touch was careful, and all of it made her strangely quiet.
"I didn't ask you to tie my hair." She told him knowing he would do what he wanted anyway.
"I've always wondered how you'd look in a pony." He said, gathering her hair now.
Minutes later, he came to crouch front of her, staring up at her with a slow marveled smile spreading across his face. Liike she was everything good, something worth looking at. And for once, she didn't pull away.