Kenan followed me up the stairs, his heavy steps a steady beat behind mine. I pushed open the door to my room, where the faint scent of vanilla and rose lingered softly in the air.
"I use a pheromone spray to try to get rid of it," I said, glancing at him as I moved to my desk and rummaged through the drawer until my fingers brushed the cool measuring tape.
Kenan's gaze swept over the shelves, the window light spilling across my neatly made bed. "Even if you did, I can still sense it," he said flatly.
"So, I wasted my time buying it then?" I muttered, standing upright.
He said nothing, too busy inspecting my room like a detective. His eyes landed on my nightstand, lips twitching into a faint smile.
"When you were younger, you looked like a gremlin," he commented casually.
I narrowed my eyes and walked over, clutching my sketchbook. "And you looked like a demon spawn."
We both stared down at the framed photo of our kindergarten class, where we sat scowling at opposite ends of the group.
"They always kept us at opposite ends." I laughed.
"Well, they knew what would happen if they sat us close," he replied with a smirk sharpening his features.
"Alright, enough reminiscing. Let's get your measurements."
I stepped closer, gently pushing him near my desk beneath the best light. I held the tape between my fingers, stretching it across his broad shoulders first. My knuckles brushed the fabric of his shirt, and I quickly jotted notes in my sketchbook.
"Arms up," I said softly. He raised them without hesitation. I wrapped the tape loosely under his arms, around his chest, then down his arm to the wrist. The numbers came easily:shoulder width, sleeve length, waist, inseam.
I kept my expression neutral, though I noticed his gaze fixed on me with that inscrutable look he always wore.
With everything written down, I sat at my desk and powered on my computer. "I'm putting you to good use," I said. "You're going to finish writing my report. I started it, but I'm switching themes, so there are some changes to make."
I typed out a list of research points, printed them, and handed over my laptop. "I need you to get this done for me."
Kenan stared at the screen for a moment.
"What? Is it hard? Aren't you a med student?"
"I never said that," he replied evenly.
"It's written all over your face."
He glanced at the list. "Went from researching a presentation to learning the history of what? Clothes?"
"You offered to help," I shrugged.
I gestured toward the chair. "Come on, sit. Make yourself at home."
He grumbled but obliged, settling in as I moved to the center of the room and pulled out my materials:rolled fabric, scissors, chalk, and a large cutting mat. I spread the mat across the floor and smoothed the fabric flat, pinning the edges so nothing would shift. Using my chalk, I carefully marked out the pattern based on the measurements, double-checking lines and curves to ensure a perfect fit.
The next two hours slipped by in near silence, filled only with the soft snip of scissors and the rhythmic tapping of keys as Kenan typed steadily. We both worked against the clock, caught in our separate yet strangely synchronized tasks.
A soft knock pulled me from my focus. I glanced at Kenan, still hunched over the laptop, eyes locked on the screen as if letting up would cause the world to end.
Quietly, I rose and padded to the door. Cracking it open, I met my dad's expectant smile.
"Yes?" I asked softly.
"Come have dinner and ask Kenan to join us," he said with more command than invitation.
I glanced back at Kenan, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.
"He looks so peaceful right now," I whispered.
Why interrupt? Why break this rare focus?
"Ciro, I expect you both down in five minutes," my dad warned.
I closed the door quietly and pressed my lips together, staring at my phone in hesitation.
Finally, I turned to Kenan. "Do you want to take a break?"
He leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms overhead. "Yeah, my fingers are starting to cramp."
You really don't know how to say no, do you?
I stood, brushing chalk dust from my hands. "Well… my dad said we should come down for dinner."
We walked downstairs in silence. My parents were already seated, and my sisters settled in with their usual knowing expressions. I sat beside Kenan.
Steam curled upward from the plates. Conversation started at light university until it turned to full on conversation of only my father and Kenan.
"So, after you graduate, what do you want to specialize in?"
"I'm thinking about neurosurgery," Kenan said smoothly.
Hopefully, he can figure out what's wrong with his own brain while he's at it.
I took the last bite on my plate and sipped my drink. My gaze drifted to the chocolate tart in the center of the table.
"Well, someone has an appetite," Camilla teased, smiling at me.
Always out to get me.
I ignored her and reached for the dessert.
"It's probably because Kenan's here," Cora added.
Why is it always about him?
"I beg to differ," I muttered.
"It's true,you didn't eat yesterday," my dad said.
So now they're ganging up on me.
Great.
Kenan and my dad drifted into their own conversation, but Cora's grin told me she wasn't done.
"Well, isn't it common to lose appetite when you're attached?"
"No, it isn't—" As soon as the words left Kenan's lips,I nudged him under the table and shot him a warning look. I did not need a lecture from my dad about our... situation.
My dad's eyes narrowed. "So, how do you plan to fix it?"
Fix it? Was that even possible?
"Well, we still have to… discuss that, right Kenan?" I said quickly.
He nodded, eyes lingering on me in that unreadable way.
After a beat, my dad leaned back. "It's getting late. Kenan, you should stay the night. I'll have the housekeeper prepare the guest room and some clothes."
My stomach flipped, not entirely unpleasantly. Staying under the same roof wasn't my worst-case scenario… Maybe it even worked in my favor.
"Ciro, show him to the guest room when you're done," my dad added.
Later, back in my room, the food sat heavy in my stomach, making me want to sprawl on the floor and call it a night. But my unfinished project pushed me upright again.
I rolled out more fabric and began marking seams. A while later, Kenan returned, sitting back in his spot like he'd never left.
And just like before, we slipped into that strange, quiet rhythm.