Midnight encounter

VIOLET

A dim glow from my bedside slipped into my barely open eyes, jerking me back to wakefulness. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and slowly pushed myself upright, stretching my arms until I felt the pull of relaxed muscles. The dull ache in my abdomen was still there, but far less intense now. The cramps always lasted about a day, and I’d learned to work around them. But this time, they’d shown up two weeks early, completely derailing my plans and leaving me feeling caught off guard and a little helpless.

I shuffled to the edge of the bed and the memories of earlier crept back uninvited. Ryan’s hands, warm and steady, working over my skin in slow circles, soothing each knot of pain with a gentleness I hadn’t expected from him. My cheeks flushed as the scene replayed in my mind, his fingers tracing gentle paths across my abdomen, easing the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding. In that moment, he’d seemed so different—almost tender, his eyes focused in a way that felt startlingly genuine. For the first time, I’d seen a side of him I never thought existed, and my heart clenched as I remembered the look of concern in his eyes.

Maybe I was just imagining things. But even if it was just wishful thinking, I couldn’t deny how comforting it was to believe that, in some small way, he might actually care. After all, everyone deserves a little hope, don’t they?
cared.

A loud growl from my stomach interrupted my thoughts, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten all day. The pain from the cramps had overshadowed everything, making it impossible to even think about food. But now, as the clock ticked closer to 11 PM, hunger had crept back with a vengeance.

I briefly considered just ignoring it and waiting until morning, but after sleeping nearly six hours, I knew falling back asleep would be a challenge. Begrudgingly, I decided that a quick trip to the kitchen was my best bet.

I tossed away the bedcover and headed to the kitchen.

I tiptoed down the hallway, my stomach growling in a desperate plea for food. But halfway to the kitchen, I froze. There, in the dim light, a shadow moved—a tall figure shifting near the counter.

I froze, heart thumping as my mind shot back to the last movie I’d watched with Ryan. Naturally, he had insisted on a horror flick—the kind with those brilliantly “brave” characters who decide it’s a great idea to go exploring dark rooms alone. I’d spent most of the film rolling my eyes, loudly questioning every decision the terrified girl made as she tiptoed toward the obviously haunted kitchen. I called her an idiot, muttered things like, “Why would anyone walk toward the creepy figure?” and swore up and down that I’d never be that dumb.

Yet here I was, one hungry stomach growl away from becoming her. An icy chill crept up my spine as I took another step.

Turn around, Violet. Just go back to your room and pretend you never saw anything. My inner voice warned.

But, oh no, I ignored it, just like that poor girl in the movie. Apologies to the entire cast of Nightmare on Elm Street, I thought bitterly. Turns out I’m the biggest idiot of them all.

“Who...who’s there?” I croaked, barely above a whisper. Silence. The figure shifted slightly, just a subtle movement, enough to send my heart racing.

I took another step, against every instinct I had. Maybe it was just my imagination, or maybe… I shuddered. Every horror movie scene I’d ever watched flashed through my mind in rapid-fire sequence. The figure would turn around, its eyes hollow and hungry, and it would see me. I'd scream, but it would be too late…

Stop it, Violet!

I mentally yelled at myself. You’re not in a horror movie.

Then the shadow moved again, and I shrieked, hands flying up to cover my mouth as I took a step back. I lost my footing, and stumbled forward with a yelp.

The next second, I crashed into something warm and solid, and strong hands shot out to catch me. I looked up and found myself staring straight into Ryan’s face, his brows furrowed in surprise.

“Violet?” His deep voice cut through the fog of my panic, but the shock still pulsed in my chest, and my breathing was shallow as I clutched onto his shirt, steadying myself.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, too flustered to let go, my fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt. “You scared the life out of me.”

A flicker of a grin crossed his lips as he looked down at me, his hands still holding me upright. “I scared you? I thought you were the ghost, creeping in here all weird and jumpy.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my voice caught as I finally realized how close we were. My body pressed up against his, my hands braced on his chest. My heart was racing, and not just from the scare. His warmth seeped through his shirt, solid and steady, and I was suddenly aware of the faint smell of his cologne, the subtle way his chest rose and fell beneath my palms.

His gaze softened, and I saw something there I hadn’t noticed before—a kind of gentle amusement mixed with something that made my breath hitch. “So, what happened to the girl who said she'd run the other way?”
He was definitely remembering my very vocal complaints about horror movie characters.

“I, uh…” I stumbled over my words, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Apparently, I left my survival instincts back in my room.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to be your survival guide then”

I couldn’t even bring myself to roll my eyes. All I could focus on was how his hands had settled around my waist, holding me just firmly enough to keep me from stepping back. His gaze held mine, and my stomach flipped as I saw his expression shift, something warm crossing his face.

I let out a shaky laugh, attempting to ease the growing tension between us. “Well… I’ll just pretend that was my plan all along.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner. “If that’s the case…” His thumb brushed lightly over my waist, a gesture that sent my heart racing all over again. "Maybe you should be careful about creeping around kitchens late at night."

“Yeah, I, uh…” My voice came out softer than I intended, my hands still pressed against his chest. For a moment, neither of us moved, and my heart thudded in my chest as I looked up at him. The dim light softened his features, casting shadows that made his expression even harder to read, and the familiar teasing spark in his eyes faded into something else—something that made my breath catch.

The realization dawned slowly—I wasn’t the only one who’d frozen. He was still, his eyes fixed on me, as if caught in some silent battle within himself. And maybe, just maybe, he was as aware of me as I was of him.

His hand drifted almost unconsciously to the small of my back, drawing me even closer. His fingers brushed against me, warm and steady. “Violet,” he murmured, his voice so soft that it seemed to hum against my skin, sending a shiver spiraling through me.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, completely captured by the intensity in his gaze, by the way his hand lingered. It felt like something dangerous was about to happen again and for a heartbeat, I was ready to fall right into it.

Then, as if suddenly aware of himself, he blinked, and the moment shattered. He pulled back, his hand slipping away, and I stumbled slightly before pushing myself off his chest and scrambling to my feet.

Ryan stood as well, clearing his throat. He glanced at me, his jaw set. “We should talk.”

My heart flipped, stuttering painfully against my ribs. Talk? Talk about what? My cramps? Or maybe about how I’d been lying on him just moments ago, his arms wrapped around me, his touch soft and careful…

But one look at his face told me that it wasn’t about any of that. There was something darker, something serious in his eyes that made my pulse quicken. I swallowed, feeling a strange, uncomfortable weight settle in my chest.

“We should talk,” he repeated, his gaze never leaving mine, “about the kiss.”