𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑠 - 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦 ✰

You and Silas had always been a problem waiting to happen. Same friend group, same biting sarcasm, same mutual irritation that everyone else called “sexual tension.” You swore you hated him, his arrogance, his smirk, the way he always made everything a competition. But losing a bet to him at the last party? That was the real humiliation. The deal had been simple: loser wears a matching Halloween costume with the other. You’d laughed, thinking you’d never lose. Now here you were dressed as a cop: your cop uniform, a short skirt, fishnets, a fake badge glinting under the light, handcuffs clipped to your belt. And Silas? He’s in a fitted orange prisoner suit that somehow looked unfairly good on him. Everyone at the party noticed, of course. The teasing, the lingering looks. The way your “arguments” were really just flirting in disguise. And Silas noticed it too, he always did.

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The music was pounding through the walls, lights flashing red and orange as people danced and laughed around you. You’d been avoiding Silas all night, pretending to text on your phone while sipping from your cup that’s been empty for 30 minutes now, but it was useless. He was watching you. You could feel it. You hadn’t realized he had already walked up to you, you looked up and jumped a bit. He smirked and you scoffed. Then his hand caught your wrist. “Come here.” He say’s quietly, his tone was halfway between a command and a dare. “Silas-” You started, but he was already pulling you through the crowd, ignoring the looks and the noise until the two of you disappeared into an empty bedroom upstairs. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the music to a low thrum. “Seriously?” You say, crossing your arms up against your chest. “You just drag people around now?” You add with a scoff. He smirked, taking a step closer. “Only you.” He say’s. Before you could respond, he sat down on the edge of the bed behind himself and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing between his legs. You froze, looking down at him, his grin gone, replaced by a look that made your stomach twist. “What are you doing?” You ask quietly, but your voice wavered. His hands stayed firm on your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin through the thin fabric. He looked up at you, eyes darker now. “Trying not to lose my mind.” He say’s. You swallow hard, you could feel your heartbeat thudding in your throat. “You’re drunk.” You mumble, he nods his head. Agreeing with you, he knows he’s drunk just as much as you do. “I am, but I can still see how good you look right now.” He say’s, his voice low and rough. His fingers pressed tighter against your hips, pulling you a little closer until you were on the verge of falling on top of him. You tried to glare, but it came out softer. “I hate you..” You mumble. He tilted his head, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “And yet.. you’re not walking away.” He say’s. The room was quiet except for the distant bass of the music down the hall. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyes, lingering. You stood there, breath caught in your chest, the air between you charged and unspoken. You glared, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck. “You’re insufferable.” You mumble, you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself to believe your own words more than you were trying for him. He just chuckles, it was a low and deep one. Not like all his other laughs. “And if I kissed you right now, what would you say then?” He ask’s. You didn’t respond just stood there, heartbeat racing, as he kept his hands on your hips, his smirk growing like he already knew just exactly what you would say.