Page 26 of Tempting My Nemesis

She nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense. And you’ll help me with that?”

“Of course,” I reply without hesitation.

Zoe’s face softens into a smile that reaches her eyes this time.

“Thank you, Caleb.”

We settle into the living room after dinner. Zoe curls up on the couch, and I grab the remote, navigating with practiced ease.

“I’m picking the movie tonight. No arguments,” she announces, her voice teasing.

“Fine, but if it’s a romcom, I’m falling asleep,” I retort, smirking as I dim the lights.

“You need to expand your horizons. A little romance won’t kill you.”

“As long as it’s not too cheesy, I’ll survive.”

“Deal. But I get to choose the snacks next time.”

I can’t help but laugh. Her playful banter is a refreshing contrast to my usual world of calculated moves and ordered environments. She scrolls through the options, finally settling on a classic drama with just enough romance to satisfy her and enough intrigue to keep me interested.

The movie starts, and we sit close—closer than necessary. Her leg brushes against mine, sending a flush of awareness through me. My arm drapes over the back of the couch, almost instinctively pulling her closer.

“Do you like this movie?” she asks softly.

“It’s... tolerable,” I reply with a grin.

She nudges me with her elbow. “Liar. You’re enjoying it.”

The movie plays on, but my attention keeps drifting to Zoe. The way she leans into me feels so natural. Her laughter at a light moment in the film lights up the room more than any lamp ever could.Is this what it’s like to really be with someone?My thoughts swirl as my arm slips around her shoulders without thinking.

Her head rests lightly on my shoulder, and I feel the warmth of her breath against my neck. It’s comforting and disorienting at once. Every casual touch lingers longer than it should, making my pulse quicken.

“What’s your favorite part so far?” she asks during a quiet moment in the movie.

“I think it’s when they finally stop pretending and admit their feelings,” I say, my voice low and steady.

She turns slightly to look at me, her eyes searching mine for something—maybe an answer to an unspoken question.

“That’s usually the best part,” she whispers back, her words hanging in the air between us.

Her hand finds mine under the blanket we share, our fingers intertwining naturally. My chest tightens at the simplicity of the gesture—so small yet so significant.

As we continue watching, our conversation becomes more subdued. Zoe makes occasional comments about the film, but my responses are distracted, my attention focused on her presence beside me.

She shifts closer, her head now resting against my chest. The movie plays on, but all I can concentrate on is the softness of her hair against my skin, the steady rhythm of her breathing.

“Are you comfortable?” she asks suddenly.

“Yeah,” I reply softly. “You?”

“Very,” she murmurs before returning her attention to the screen.

The movie ends, leaving a soft hum of silence in its wake. I reach for the remote, turning off the screen. Zoe stretches beside me, her arm brushing mine. I shiver at the awareness her touch brings.

“It’s late,” she murmurs, her voice laced with fatigue and something softer.

“Yeah,” I agree, standing up and offering her a hand. She takes it, and we walk together to her room, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The penthouse somehow feels quieter than usual.

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