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He leans back against the headboard, pulling me with him, keeping one arm wrapped around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and watch as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand.
“Make you mine,” he answers, stopping mid-motion just to look straight into my eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Thalia,” he continues, almost growling. “I’m obsessed with you.”
Leaning down, he kisses me—an intense kiss, every emotion wrapped around us.
Pulling back after what seems like forever, he rests his head against the headboard and unlocks his phone.
“I already checked some of the news,” I admit, watching him open his Instagram. “Total chaos, Ethan. Everyone knows about me now,” I tell him, not accusatory at all.
He laughs, clearly pleased, then opens only his post and scrolls quickly through the comments. No news sites, nothing else.
“I don’t care, kitten,” he says, looking at me directly. “That’s exactly what I wanted—for the world to know you belong to me. That’s it.”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door. We stay completely still for a few moments, but the door opens anyway.
We’re completely dressed for bed, but Ethan grabs the comforter and pulls it up to my neck.
“Jesus,” he says as Zayn walks into the room. “I didn’t tell you to come in,” he adds firmly.
Rolling his eyes, Zayn steps in and sits on the edge of the bed, keeping a little distance. “Relax, Ethan,” he replies, not paying attention to us at all, absorbed in something on his phone. “I need you, Thalia,” he says, still looking at the screen.
“For what?” Ethan asks, raising an eyebrow before I can speak.
I shoot him a disapproving look, then turn back to Zayn. Placing a hand over his, I ask, “What can I help you with, Zayn?”
When he feels our hands touch, he stops scrolling and looks directly at me.
“I have to take part in another race…”
“The fuck you do,” Ethan says, his voice low and dangerous, a direct warning.
Zayn keeps his eyes on mine, and I understand immediately what he’s implying. He wants me as his co-pilot. But why?
“Don’t even think about it,” Ethan says, absolutely serious.
It seems he understands what Zayn is suggesting just by looking at me.
At Ethan’s tone, Zayn turns his attention to him.
“I don’t want you racing alone,” Ethan continues, concise and firm, “and even less with Thalia.”
“I need a co-pilot,” Zayn says, ignoring Ethan completely.
I look from one to the other, staying silent. This isn’t about me anymore—it's a deeper conversation between them.
“Why the hell do you keep racing?” Ethan asks, groaning. “I want you to stop.”
“Co-pilot,” Zayn repeats, fixing Ethan with a strange look, as if waiting for something from him.
“Thalia will not be your co-pilot,” Ethan answers, his tone unwavering.
Zayn says nothing, just waits.
“It can be any of the guys,” Ethan adds, holding his gaze.
What is this about? What is he referring to? I can’t follow them.
Again, Zayn remains silent.
