The sight of him standing there looking so good, even in a ridiculous dinosaur costume, made me laugh, the last of my nerves melting away. The onesie, soft and snug, clung to his lean frame, and the green fabric brought out the rich hazel of his eyes. His brown hair was delightfully messy, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, adding to the playful charm that radiated from him.
“Clearly, I didn’t get the memo about dressing up,” I teased, my mind already imagining what he looked like under that soft fabric.
Ethan’s grin widened as he stepped aside to let me in and, as he did, our arms brushed ever so slightly, sending a small jolt of electricity through me. There was an unspoken tension in that brief touch, a spark that lingered even as he moved away. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a matching one for you. Lily and I always coordinate—though hers is a unicorn, so you’re welcome to switch teams if you want.”
I laughed again, unable to resist the warmth of his playful banter. “Unicorns? Now that sounds way cooler. I’m definitely down to match with Lily,” I said grinning, trying to ignore the way my pulse had quickened from that tiny spark.
His smile widened even further. “I knew you’d say that. Lily’s going to be thrilled.”
As I stepped inside, Ethan pulled me into a quick, casual hug. His arm wrapped around my waist, and his hand rested low on my back, sending a surge of warmth pooling in my stomach. Even through the soft fabric of the onesie, I could feel the solid strength of his body, and the gentle flex of his muscles as he held me close for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. His scent enveloped me—clean cotton mixed with a hint of lemon, and a deeper, earthy note of musk. It was intoxicating, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.
I followed Ethan further in the house, the entryway opening into a modest living room that felt instantly welcoming. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books that had spines of various colors and genres. Each book was worn and well-loved. A large, overstuffed couch sat in the middle of the room, draped with a soft, plaid throw blanket. There was a coffee table in front of the couch, cluttered with a few scattered papers, a half-empty mug, and a stack of books—one of them open, a page marked with a folded corner.
“Make yourself at home,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the couch. “Sorry for the mess.”
I smiled. The house was clean but comfortably so, with just enough clutter to feel inviting rather than sterile. The wooden floors creaked softly underfoot, adding to the sense of history and character that seemed to seep from every corner. A large bay window let in streams of golden afternoon light, illuminating a reading nook complete with a worn armchair and a small side table, both perfectly positioned to catch the light.
“You call this a mess?” I teased, looking around. “This place is amazing. It feels like . . . you.”
Ethan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s home. And hey, if you ever want to borrow a book, you’re welcome to anything on those shelves. They’re my pride and joy.”
I glanced at the shelves, my fingers itching to explore the titles more closely. “I might take you up on that. But first, I’m going to need a tour. Show me where you keep all the other onesies.”
Ethan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned and led the way further into the house. “Follow me, but fair warning—I’ve got an entire wardrobe full of them. You might want to brace yourself.”
While moving through the house, I admired the simple, thoughtful details that made the space feel so uniquely his. A fewframed photos dotted the walls—pictures of Ethan with friends, some of him hiking in the woods, and one of him and Lily, both grinning widely, with their faces covered in what looked like cake frosting. The kitchen was small but functional, with a well-worn wooden table in the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs that only added to the charm.
As we reached the end of the tour, Ethan stopped in front of a door at the back of the house. “And this,” he said, opening the door, “is where the magic happens.”
Inside was a small but comfortable office, with yet another wall of bookshelves, a large desk cluttered with papers, and a corkboard covered in notes and photos. A single window looked out onto the forest behind the house, the trees standing tall and silent, their leaves rustling in the breeze.
“Let me guess,” I said, smiling, “this is where you plan all your lessons and grade all those essays?”
Ethan nodded, his expression softening as he looked around the room. “Yeah, it’s my little sanctuary. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s where I can focus. Plus, it’s got the best view in the house.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly, turning to meet his gaze. “Everything about this place is.”
Ethan’s smile was warm as he looked at me. “I’m glad you think so.”
He hadn’t included his bedroom in the tour, and the thought made me smile inwardly. He hadn’t wanted to make me uncomfortable, or give the wrong impression. But a small, curious part of me itched to know what his bedroom looked like, to see what secrets it might hold.
He cleared his throat, a playful glint in his eyes. “Lily should be here in about an hour. Want to help me build a fort in the living room? It’s always a bit of a project, but it’s totally worth it when she sees it. Her face lights up every time.”
A smile tugged at my lips, but I hesitated for a moment. “I’ve never built a fort before. My parents were pretty strict, and they thought stuff like that was too childish, so it wasn’t something we ever did.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and then his expression shifted to one of determination. “Well, that just makes this even better. We’re going to make this the most epic fort ever—one you’ll never forget. It’s long overdue.”
I laughed, a rush of warmth filling me at the idea. “You’re really committed to this, huh?”
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “Everyone deserves at least one awesome fort-building experience in their life. And don’t worry, I’m a seasoned pro. By the time we’re done, you’ll be a fort-building master. Who knows, you might even start a new hobby.”
“Fort-building as a hobby?” I teased. “Sounds like a pretty serious commitment.”
“Trust me,” Ethan said with a wink, “it’s worth it. Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got a lot of fun to make up for.”
With that, he led the way to the living room, his enthusiasm infectious as he began gathering blankets, cushions, and chairs. We started by rearranging the furniture, dragging chairs and couches into the perfect positions to support our masterpiece. The air between us buzzed with a playful energy, our movements synchronized as if we’d done this a hundred times before. When our gazes would meet, the corners of my lips twitched with the urge to smile.
“So,” I teased, draping a blanket over a chair, “how does one become a master fort-builder? Any special tricks I should know about?”
