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“Just because I’m not a giant like you doesn’t mean I’m small.” I am small. But he’s also a giant.

I blindly send a hand out behind me, whacking some part of him because now he’s the one hot on my heels.

One of my ankles gets pulled out from under me, making me stumble onto my hands and knees. On the stairs?

Immediately, I flip over to my back to glare up at the culprit.

“I don’t trust you. You don’t even know how to work an oven.”

“I don’t trust you. You keep bananas in your room.”

“So what?”

“So, what else are you hiding?”

He leans down into my space, saying, “Everything,” before stepping over me with his big, giant feet on his big, giant legs.

“Ugh, God. You—” I shield my face so I don’t get hit in the face with his shorts. Or anything inside them.

Using his same method, I yank on one of his ankles over my head, laughing when he slams into the staircase above me a hell of a lot harder than I did. I guess that saying about big trees falling hard is true.

I’m up and crawling over him the next instant.

“You little fucking squirrel.”

I use my foot on his shoulder to propel myself upward, but unfortunately, Khaos grabs my calf, keeping me from getting too far.

I’m clinging to the handrail for dear life when I grit, “It’s my bread.”

“It’s my bread.”

I scowl while twisting my leg, trying to dislodge it. I will kick him in the face if I have to. I do not care.

“How do you figure?”

“It has my bananas in it.”

I’m too busy shaking my head at the worst reasoning I’ve ever heard in my life to notice Khaos dragging his own body up a few stairs, closing the distance between us—all with my leg still trapped in his grip.

Why is he so good at this? We’re both wet. It should be impossible for him to keep ahold of me so easily.

“Just…let…” I bring my knee in as much as I can before sending it out straight. “Go.”

Khaos slips right off my calf, flying backward. He tumbles down several steps before coming to a violent stop.

“Khaos?”

He doesn’t so much as stir.

Oh my God.

I climb down after him, straddling his seven-foot-tall body that’s all misshapen. His eyes are shut and he’s absolutely not moving.

I place a hand on his heart, thankfully feeling a heartbeat. It’s erratic, which I take as a good sign.

“Are you okay?” Please be okay.

“You’re too little to be that strong.”