Chapter 5: I Pretended The Be Asleep

The day had started with such promise, a crisp autumn morning where the leaves outside Bella’s family home were everywhere in the compound, birds being their annoying self and the noise jeez. It was supposed to be a simple get-together—a casual reunion to celebrate her parents’ wedding anniversary, blended with her best friend Mia’s family joining in for the fun. But as these things often go, it ballooned into something far larger. Word had spread through the grapevine of extended relatives, old neighbors, and even some acquaintances from work and school that Bella barely recognized. By noon, the house was a whirlwind of chaos, laughter echoing off the walls, the scent of grilling meats and baking pies clashing in the air like a symphony gone rogue.

Bella, at 22, was the unofficial hostess of the event, thrust into the role because her mom was too busy flitting between guests like a social butterfly, and her dad was manning the barbecue out back with Mia’s father, trading stories over beers. Bella had volunteered to help with the cooking and setup, thinking it would be a breeze. How wrong she was. The kitchen, usually her sanctuary, a cozy space with wooden cabinets and a window overlooking the garden—had transformed into a battlefield. Pots bubbled over on the stove, spilling tomato sauce that sizzled angrily on the burners. The countertops were littered with half-chopped vegetables, bowls of salad greens wilting under the heat, and trays of appetizers waiting to be assembled. Mia was there too, her best friend since high school, sleeves rolled up, but even she looked overwhelmed, her curly hair frizzing out from the humidity.

“Pass the garlic, Bells!” Mia shouted over the din, her hands sticky from kneading dough for homemade rolls. Bella dodged her cousin’s kids, who were running through the kitchen like tiny tornadoes, chasing each other with toy swords made from wrapping paper tubes. One of them bumped into her leg, nearly sending a bowl of marinated chicken crashing to the floor.

“Watch it, you little monsters!” Bella laughed, but inside, her mind was already churning with fatigue. Why did I agree to this? she thought, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Mom said it would be ‘just a few people,’ but this is like half the town showed up. And who are those guys in the living room? They look like they wandered in from a different party altogether. She glanced through the doorway, spotting a group of men she didn’t recognize—tall, broad-shouldered types with easy smiles, chatting with her uncle. Probably friends of friends, or maybe distant relatives she’d forgotten about. The house was packed: her extended family milling about with plates of food, Mia’s siblings arguing over board games in the den, and random guests spilling out onto the patio.

The chaos didn’t let up. Bella spent hours chopping onions until her eyes watered, stirring pots of chili that seemed bottomless, and ferrying trays of finger foods to the hungry crowd. Her feet ached from standing on the hard tile floor, and her arms burned from lifting heavy casserole dishes in and out of the oven. I should have worn better shoes, she scolded herself mentally. These flats are killing me. And why is the AC not working properly? It’s like a sauna in here. Every time she thought she could sneak a break, someone called her name—“Bella, honey, can you grab more napkins?” or “Bells, the dip needs more cheese!” Mia tried to help, but she was pulled away to entertain her little cousins, leaving Bella to handle the bulk of it.

As the afternoon wore on, the noise level crescendoed. Laughter boomed from the backyard where the men were gathered around the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs that sent smoky aromas wafting inside. Inside, the women—her aunts, Mia’s mom, and a few neighbors—gossiped over wine at the dining table, their voices a constant hum punctuated by shrieks of delight. Kids darted everywhere, leaving trails of crumbs and spilled drinks that Bella had to mop up on the fly. This is exhausting, Bella thought, pausing for a moment to lean against the counter, her hands sticky with dough. I love my family, but seriously, couldn’t we have hired a caterer? Or at least ordered pizza? No, Mom wanted ‘homemade everything’ for the authenticity. Authenticity my ass, I’m the one slaving away while everyone else chats.

She glanced at the clock: 4 PM. The gathering had started at noon, and it showed no signs of slowing. Bella’s mind raced with a mental checklist—refill the punch bowl, check on the desserts in the fridge, make sure the vegetarian options weren’t contaminated with meat. Why am I the only one noticing these things? she wondered, frustration bubbling up. Mia’s helping, but she’s got her own family pulling her in directions. And those strangers— who invited them? One of them keeps staring at me every time I walk by. Tall guy with the dark hair. Probably just being friendly, but still… creepy or flattering? I can’t decide. She shook her head, focusing back on the task at hand: assembling a massive fruit platter. Slicing strawberries, her knife slipped slightly, nicking her finger. “Ouch!” she hissed, sucking on the cut. Great, now I’m bleeding into the fruit. Perfect end to a perfect day.

By 6 PM, the main meal was served, and the house erupted into a feeding frenzy. Plates clattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and conversations overlapped in a cacophony that made Bella’s head throb. She managed to snag a quick bite—a burger and some salad—sitting on the stairs away from the crowd, but even then, people kept interrupting her with questions. I just want five minutes of peace, she pleaded internally. Is that too much to ask? My neck is already starting to hurt from all this bending over counters. And my back—ugh, carrying those heavy trays is no joke. Mia found her there, plopping down beside her with a sigh.

“You look like you’re about to keel over, Bells,” Mia said, nudging her shoulder. “Want me to take over for a bit?”

Bella forced a smile. “Nah, I’m good. Just need a breather. Go enjoy—your brother’s challenging everyone to arm wrestling out back.”

Mia laughed and headed off, leaving Bella alone with her thoughts. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t get how drained I am. I’ve been on my feet since 8 AM prepping. If I don’t get a nap soon, I’m going to snap at someone. The idea of a bath and bed flickered in her mind like a lifeline. The gathering would wind down eventually, right? People were starting to look full and content, lounging on couches and the lawn furniture outside.

Finally, around 8 PM, as the sun dipped low and the energy began to ebb, Bella saw her chance. Most guests were either chatting in small groups or helping with a half-hearted cleanup. Her mom waved her off when she mentioned slipping away. “Go rest, sweetie. You’ve been a trooper all day.” Bella didn’t need to be told twice. She slipped upstairs, the sounds of the party fading to a muffled buzz behind her.

The bathroom was a haven—steam from the hot shower enveloping her like a warm hug. She stood under the spray for what felt like ages, letting the water massage her sore muscles. Ah, this is heaven, she thought, lathering up with her favorite lavender soap. Wash away the sweat, the stress, the chaos. Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal. No more unexpected guests, no more endless cooking. She scrubbed her scalp, rinsed, and stepped out feeling marginally human again. Toweling off, she slipped into comfortable sleep shorts and a loose tank top—nothing fancy, just soft cotton against her skin. Her hair, still damp, hung in waves down her back.

Down the hall to her room, she collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. It was an old mattress, lumpy in places, but exhaustion pulled her under quickly. Just a quick nap, she told herself. Wake up refreshed, maybe rejoin the party for dessert. Sleep came in fits, though—the bed wasn’t as comfortable as she remembered, perhaps from years of use. She tossed and turned, her neck twisting at odd angles.

When she woke, it was with a groan, her hand rubbing the kink in her neck. The room was dim, twilight filtering through the curtains. Glancing at the clock: 9:30 PM. The party sounds had quieted somewhat, but laughter still drifted up from downstairs. Ugh, this bed is torture, Bella thought, sitting up and wincing. Why didn’t I notice before? Probably because I’m usually too tired to care. But tonight, with all that running around, my body’s screaming. She stretched, but the soreness persisted. Her own room felt too stuffy now, the air thick with the day’s remnants.

Eyeing the door, she considered the guest room next door. It was set up for overflow visitors—her aunt and uncle sometimes crashed there—but with the party still going, maybe it was empty. Worth a shot, she decided. Better mattress, fresher sheets. I’ll just pop in for a bit. Padding barefoot down the hall, she pushed the door open quietly. The room was dark, save for a sliver of light from the hallway. There was a figure on the bed, back turned to her, curled under the covers. Probably family, Bella assumed, squinting. One of the cousins or something. The house is full—makes sense someone beat me to it. She hesitated, but the ache in her neck won out.

Mumbling softly, not wanting to fully wake them, she said, “Hey, can I use the bed with you? Just need to crash for a while.” No response—maybe they were asleep. Shrugging, she slipped under the covers on the far side, keeping a respectful distance. The mattress was indeed better—firmer, supportive. Yes, this is what I needed, she thought, settling in with a content sigh. Just close my eyes, relax. The party’s winding down anyway. Sleep tugged at her again, lighter this time, her body still humming from the day’s exertions.

Ten minutes passed in hazy semi-consciousness. Bella wasn’t a deep sleeper—never had been. Even as a kid, the slightest noise would jolt her awake. So when she felt it, a warm hand brushing against her ass, tentative at first—she froze. Her eyes snapped open in the dark, but she didn’t move. What the hell? her mind raced. Is that… deliberate? Or just accidental shifting? The hand lingered, fingers splaying slightly over the curve of her shorts. Heat bloomed where it touched, unbidden. Oh god, who is this? I thought it was family, but… wait, maybe it’s not. One of those strangers from downstairs? The tall guy with the dark hair? No, can’t be. But why is my body reacting like this? Her heart pounded, a mix of alarm and something else—curiosity? Arousal? She didn’t scream, the house was full of people, she would be embarrassed if she actually scream. If I react now, it’ll be awkward. What if it’s innocent? But… it doesn’t feel innocent.

She lay still, pretending to sleep, breaths even despite the adrenaline. The hand grew bolder, sliding under the hem of her shorts, tracing the bare skin of her ass. Holy shit, she thought, a shiver running down her spine. This is wrong. I should stop this. Roll over, say something. But… why does it feel good? I’ve been so stressed, untouched for months since that breakup. Is my body betraying me? The internal debate raged. Part of her wanted to bolt, but another part, the reckless one, was intrigued. What if I just… see what happens? No one knows. It’s dark. I can always pretend I was asleep.

Minutes ticked by—ten agonizing ones—her body tense but responsive. The hand ventured lower, fingers brushing the edge of her pussy through her panties. Heat pooled there, wetness betraying her arousal. Damn it, why am I getting wet? This is crazy. Scream, Bella! But… no, not yet. Anticipation’s killing me. What if he goes further? Biting her lip to stifle any sound, she subtly parted her legs, just a fraction, giving unspoken entrance. There, see? I’m curious. But still asleep, right? Plausible deniability.

He froze—five long minutes of stillness, as if gauging her reaction. Bella’s mind whirled. Is he scared? Regretting it? Or building tension? God, this is torture. My clit is throbbing now. Just touch me already. Then, finally, he moved—pushing his hand in fully, fingers finding her clit through the fabric, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Massaging with expert pressure, dipping lower to trace her slit. Pleasure sparked through her, making her toes curl. Oh fuck, that feels amazing, she thought, fighting not to moan. Don’t make a sound. Pretend you’re asleep. But how? My hips want to buck. She held still, breaths shallow, every nerve alight.

Emboldened by her lack of protest, his touch intensified. Bella, in a feigned sleepy wiggle, shifted back closer, her bum pressing against his crotch. She felt it immediately—his dick, fully erect, hard and throbbing through his pants, nestled against her. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the quiet room. Gotcha, she thought triumphantly, a thrill running through her. Now what? Your move, stranger. The tension hung thick, her body humming with anticipation, mind a whirlwind of forbidden excitement.