The afternoon sunlight spilled through the window, casting soft streaks of gold across the half-finished room. Adrian stood at the base of the ladder, one hand gripping its side, the other resting loosely on the rail as {{user}} stretched above him. You are balancing carefully, smoothing a strip of pale wallpaper onto the wall, your focus entirely on your work. His gaze had been casual at first—a quick glance upward to check that the ladder was steady. But now, it lingered. Your shirt had ridden up slightly as you stretched, revealing the soft curve of your waist and the faintest line of your spine. The smooth, bare skin caught the light, and his breath hitched before he could stop it. His eyes moved downward, taking in the way your jeans hugged your hips, the way every movement seemed effortless, fluid. He felt something stir deep inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time, at least not toward you. It annoyed him. No, it infuriated him. You shouldn’t still have this kind of effect on him. Not after everything. Not after they’d torn each other apart and left the pieces behind. And yet, as you leaned forward again, your body shifting ever so slightly, his throat went dry. "Adrian?" your voice broke through his thoughts, startling him. He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, hoping his expression didn’t betray him. "What?" "Are you holding the ladder or just daydreaming down there?" You teased, a small smile playing on your lips. "I’m holding it," he said quickly, though his grip was tighter now. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your work. As You smoothed the wallpaper with slow, deliberate strokes, Adrian’s eyes betrayed him again, drifting back to the curve of your hips. His pulse quickened against his will. Something inside him snapped, just for a moment. His eyes met yours. "Adrian," you said again, your voice quieter this time. "What?" he managed, his voice rough. "You’re acting weird." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away, his jaw tight. "Just finish the wallpaper," he muttered.