I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The smell of garlic and butter wafted through the small apartment, clinging to the walls like a warm promise of comfort. Avery hummed faintly as she set the last dish onto the dining table, her cheeks flushed from the steam of the stove. Chelsea, sleeves rolled up, busied herself arranging plates, glasses, and spoons when the sudden buzz of the door made her freeze mid-step.

"Coming," she called out, brushing her hands on a dish towel. She leaned closer to the door, her voice muffled as she asked, "Yes? Who's there?"

A man's voice answered from the other side-deep, familiar. Chelsea's eyes widened before she unlocked the latch and swung the door open. "Oh, hi, Evan!" she greeted, her grin spreading almost too wide. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The sudden gesture caught him off guard; his posture stiffened, though he managed a polite, fleeting smile.

"Uh..." Evan started, clearly unsure what to do with the enthusiasm.

Avery was quick to appear at Chelsea's side, drying her hands on her apron. "Why? Do you need something?" Her tone was curious but playful, her gaze flitting toward Chelsea before she leaned closer to Evan, lowering her voice to a whisper meant only for him. "Rania seems stressed with all the academic stuff, so maybe you can't... you know. But if you want, the two of us can sneak over to your unit. We could make it fun." Her smirk was deliberate, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Evan's jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. "Uh, that's not why I came here," he muttered quickly, his voice edged with discomfort.

Chelsea giggled, nudging Avery with her elbow, but before either of them could say more, a new voice cut through the air like a blade. "Dinner is ready."

The two nearly jumped out of their skins. "My goodness, Rania!" Chelsea exclaimed, clutching her chest.

Rania stood just behind them, her tone flat, her presence suddenly commanding the entire room. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and glanced past Avery and Chelsea to Evan. "Come join us for dinner, Mr. Laurent," she said simply, and without waiting for an answer, turned her back and disappeared inside.

The two women exchanged stunned looks. "Wait, did I see right? Did I hear right?" Chelsea whispered, almost shrieking.

"She's inviting Evan to join us for dinner?" Avery's eyes widened as if the impossible had just happened. "Jeez, what a miracle!" They both turned to him, smirking. "You heard Rania, right? We don't know why, but be glad. For the first time ever, she insisted on welcoming you."

Evan hesitated only a second before stepping inside. Chelsea hurried to add another plate, glass, and spoon to the table. When he sat down, it was directly opposite Rania.

She wore her usual uniform of indifference: a plain white T-shirt beneath a black varsity jacket, ripped jeans, her hair loose and untamed as though it hadn't seen a brush all day. It wasn't the clothes that struck him-it was the way she carried them, the way her silence always drew attention like a storm cloud over the horizon.

His eyes lingered longer than they should have. Something about her-her sharp posture, her downturned gaze, the faint wrinkle at her brow as she placed food onto her plate-made him forget the rest of the world existed. "What the fuck are you staring at?"

Her voice lashed across the table, pulling him violently back to reality. His eyes widened; he hadn't realized she'd caught him. The tiny crease at her forehead deepened, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

Evan blinked rapidly, as though to reset his focus. "I-sorry," he stammered, reaching for his water glass to disguise his embarrassment. His ears burned, though he tried to maintain a mask of composure.