Chapter Five: The Offer

I woke up with a throbbing headache. Throbbing was even an understatement. My temples pulsed in time with every shallow breath I took, and the world felt impossibly bright and too sharp. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the light, only to realize… this place wasn’t familiar.

Panic hit me like a tidal wave. I was naked. My stomach twisted as I tried to piece together fragments of last night. My memory was a blank haze of music, lights, and alcohol—now replaced with the stark, terrifying reality of where I was.

I turned my head cautiously, and my heart nearly stopped. Keathan was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He was staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, lost in thought—or pretending to be.

I didn’t say anything. My brain was still desperately trying to make sense of the pieces.

Finally, he turned his head, eyes locking on mine. Calm. Quiet. Like this was the most normal thing in the world.

It hit me like a freight train.

“Christ!!” I gasped, scrambling to pull the blanket tighter around myself. My pulse raced, and the heat of embarrassment flushed through me. Keathan raised an eyebrow, still silent, like he was waiting for me to remember something I clearly hadn’t.

I couldn’t. I had no idea. My chest tightened, shallow gasps rattling out as the worst possible thoughts flooded my mind.

“What… what happened last night?” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Did we _—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling between us like some silent judgment.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice was flat, almost bored.

I shook my head, panic rising in my throat. “No. I don’t. I… I was drunk. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—did we actually—”

He turned his head fully now, expression hard, unreadable. Then, a smirk curled his lips, cruel and cutting.

“Well,” he said, voice low and sharp, “unless you think I’m the world’s biggest idiot, we definitely did something—or you wouldn’t be lying half-naked in my bed, wrapped up like some lost puppy.”

I froze, throat closing up. “What… what are you saying?”

He leaned back, dragging on his cigarette, flicking ash into the tray with deliberate calm. “I’m saying maybe you blackout-drank your way into my bed, and maybe we fucked. Or maybe you just passed out, and I decided not to.” His tone was mocking, daring me to argue.

I shook my head, panic surging. “No. No, I don’t—”

“Relax,” he cut me off sharply, voice cold now. “You passed out after trying to prove you could handle shots. And a man tried to take advantage of you.”

“My dress… why… why am I naked?” I stammered, face burning with mortification.

He gave me a look that could’ve cut glass. “Because you threw up all over it, genius. I wasn’t gonna let you sleep in that. I turned around and let you change yourself under the blanket, if you even remember that part—which you clearly don’t.”

Humiliation twisted in my chest, sharp and hot. But beneath it, a deeper, darker emotion churned, one I wasn’t ready to name.

“You didn’t… touch me?” I whispered, needing the confirmation more than air.

He scoffed, bitter and sharp. “What do you take me for? You think I get off on drunk, unconscious girls? Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

I flinched, like his words had physically struck me. The coldness in his voice cut deeper than it should have. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to stay silent.

“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he interrupted.

“Save it.” His voice was final, unyielding.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And what were you even doing in my club, by the way? You’re… what? Eighteen?”

Defensive, my voice shot back before I could stop myself. “No! I’m twenty-one, and Nevian brought me!”

At the mention of his brother, Keathan’s expression softened—just slightly. He muttered, almost to himself, “Nevian…” Then, he finally got up, moving toward a dresser and returning with some clothes.

“Get dressed,” he said, tossing them toward me. “I don’t want to see you in my club again.”

I grabbed the clothes he’d tossed, still trembling slightly, and paused, looking at him. “Wait… why? I mean… I am twenty-one. Nevian brought me. That’s… legal, right?”

Keathan arched an eyebrow, leaning casually against the dresser. “Yeah, sure,” he said, voice flat and nonchalant, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re twenty-one. Congrats.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as my gaze drifted to the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “And… isn’t that… bad for your health?” I asked carefully, the words out before I could stop them. “Especially as an athlete?”

Keathan gave me a lazy look, smoke curling around his face, and shrugged like it was the most trivial thing in the world. “Health? Meh,” he said, voice smooth and unconcerned. “Some people care. Some people don’t. I happen to not give a damn.”

I blinked at him, my stomach twisting. “Not… giving a damn… isn’t exactly professional, you know. Or safe.”

He smirked faintly, taking another slow drag from the cigarette before letting the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling. “Safe is boring,” he said, almost conversationally, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. “I like to keep things interesting.”

I stared at him, exasperated, unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Interesting… or reckless?” I muttered, tugging at the clothes, trying to focus on getting dressed.

Keathan didn’t answer immediately, just tilted his head slightly, exhaling smoke. “Tomato, tomato,” he said, nonchalantly. “You worry too much, athlete girl.”

I turned my back to him, fumbling with the clothes and tugging them over my arms. My hands shook slightly, the lingering haze of alcohol and nerves making everything feel heavy and surreal. Keathan faced the other side of the room, absently flicking ash from his cigarette into the tray, completely unbothered by my presence.

Once I’d finally managed to get dressed, adjusting the fit and smoothing the fabric down, I took a deep breath and turned to face him again. My voice was firmer this time, though still shaky from the adrenaline and shame.

“For the record,” I said, planting my hands on my hips, “I’m not going to stop going to your club. I’m twenty-one. I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need some… lecture telling me what to do.”

Keathan’s eyes flicked up at me, a sharp edge cutting through his otherwise calm demeanor. His jaw tightened slightly, and the lazy smirk vanished, replaced by a look that was almost… annoyed.

“You know,” he said slowly, voice low, the kind of tone that made you sit up a little straighter, “you’re really something, athlete girl. Bold, reckless… and apparently, stubborn as hell.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to back down despite the rising tension.

He leaned back against the dresser again, one hand running through his hair, the other still holding the cigarette. “I don’t like being ignored,” he added, almost quietly, but the words carried a weight that made my stomach flutter. “I don’t like having my rules dismissed.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, but he waved me off with a flick of his wrist, nonchalant, almost like he didn’t care… yet the irritation in his eyes betrayed him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, voice softer but still clipped, “I’m not mad enough to throw you out… yet. But don’t think you can just stroll into my club, pull a stunt like last night, and waltz out acting like nothing happened.”

I bit my lip, smirking despite the tension. “Noted,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “But I’m still coming. And I’ll still make my own decisions. That’s the point.”

Keathan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow, exasperated sigh. Smoke curled lazily from his cigarette as he leaned back against the dresser, running a hand through his hair.

“If I give you what you want,” he said, voice low but teasing, “would you… stop?”

I blinked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Stop? Stop what?” I asked cautiously, trying not to let the confusion show.

He smirked, a hint of mischief in his sharp eyes. “Stop showing up in my club.”

I tilted my head, suspicious but intrigued. “And what exactly… do you mean by ‘give me what I want’?”

His grin widened, sharp and knowing. “I’ll teach you. All the lessons you ever wanted in flirting, confidence… how to touch a man without trembling like a leaf.” He flicked ash from the cigarette, leaning back casually, letting the offer sink in.

I felt a small, hesitant smile tug at my lips, curiosity mingling with disbelief. “And you think I’d agree to that?” I asked, still unsure whether to be offended or intrigued.

He shrugged, the smoke curling around him like a veil. “If you want the lessons, and you actually listen… maybe.” His eyes gleamed with amusement, a dangerous kind of charm.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about it. Honestly… I didn’t even like the club that much. I only went because of Nevian. A small smile tugged at my lips, curiosity and excitement bubbling up.

“Deal!” I said quickly, my voice light but firm.