Chapter 37: Morning Encounters

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, illuminating the kitchen with a gentle morning glow. Zara, still half-asleep and wrapped in the fog of early morning, had all but forgotten about her new "roommate." Clad in her typical nightwear—a delicate, lacy pajama set with a V-neck cami top and matching shorts—she wandered quietly into the kitchen. Her hair was slightly tousled from sleep, and she absentmindedly pushed a stray strand behind her ear as she pulled open the fridge door, savoring the cool blast of air.

Pouring herself a glass of water, she closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, letting the chill of the drink fully wake her up. The apartment was still, and she found herself appreciating the rare moment of quiet. Just as she took another sip, a sensation prickled at the back of her mind, as if someone's eyes were on her.

She looked up, and there he was—Xavier, standing in the doorway, his gaze locked onto her with an intensity that was entirely unlike him. Usually so composed, his expression this morning held a look she hadn't seen before. His eyes swept over her for a moment, lingering on her a bit too long before he realized she had caught him staring.

For a second, Zara felt self-conscious under his gaze. But then, almost instinctively, she straightened up, raising her chin defiantly. If he was going to stare, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of looking away first.

"Good morning," Zara said finally, a hint of amusement in her voice. She arched an eyebrow, trying to keep her own tone casual.

Xavier blinked, the usual indifference slipping back over his expression, but not before she caught a flicker of something—surprise, maybe. "Morning," he replied, his voice a touch deeper than usual, his composure visibly returning as he forced his gaze to the coffee maker on the counter instead of her.

"Didn't mean to catch you off guard," she said with a smirk, the mischievous glint in her eyes unmistakable.

Xavier set his jaw, the slightest twitch of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just… surprised to see you up this early," he replied, the formality in his voice clearly his attempt to regain control.

Zara laughed, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. "Oh, really? Or were you just surprised by the outfit?"

Xavier's mouth opened to retort, but he stopped himself, his gaze steadying as he regarded her for a moment. "Maybe a little of both," he admitted, his voice low.

She shrugged, trying to keep her own pulse steady. "Relax, Steele. It's just pajamas. Didn't realize I'd be causing such a stir this early."

His eyes glinted, something like amusement flickering there. "Trust me, I'm not 'stirred.'" He stepped further into the kitchen, setting his coffee mug down with a certain finality as if to prove his own point, though his gaze still lingered on her longer than usual.

"Sure," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm as she took another sip of water, her eyes not leaving him. "Keep telling yourself that."

The silence stretched out between them, not awkward but charged, the kitchen somehow feeling a little smaller with the two of them in it. Finally, Xavier broke the quiet.

"So, is this how you always make your first impression in the morning?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter opposite her, his smirk now fully visible. His usual cool demeanor was starting to slip, just a bit, and Zara found herself intrigued.

Zara tilted her head, matching his smirk with one of her own. "Only when I feel like making an impression," she shot back, enjoying the shift in their usual dynamic.

Xavier's gaze held hers for a long beat, and for the first time, there was a spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for his next move, half-expecting him to counter with some snarky comment. But instead, he let out a small chuckle—a low, rich sound she hadn't heard from him before.

"Impression made, then," he replied simply, lifting his coffee to his lips, his eyes watching her over the rim of the mug.

For a second, Zara found herself at a loss, feeling an unexpected flutter in her chest. But she quickly composed herself, giving a light shrug. "Good," she replied, looking away to hide her own reaction. "Just making sure you know who you're dealing with."

"Oh, I think I have an idea," he said smoothly, setting his coffee down. The shift in his tone was almost playful, catching her off guard. "But maybe you should be careful. If you keep this up, I might think you're trying to impress me."

Zara's laugh came out sharper than she intended. "Don't flatter yourself," she quipped, rolling her eyes. "I have no reason to impress you."

"Right," Xavier replied, but there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips that told her he didn't entirely believe her. He took another sip of his coffee, as if daring her to say otherwise.

Shaking her head, Zara glanced at the clock, realizing how late it was getting. She pushed herself off the counter, flashing him one last look. "Guess I'll be more careful next time. Don't want you getting any ideas."

"Too late for that," Xavier said, his voice soft but deliberate.

For a second, they both stood there, neither one willing to look away, as if locked in some kind of silent standoff. The air between them felt different—almost electric.

But, before things could get any more intense, Zara gave him a mock salute and turned on her heel, striding out of the kitchen with her glass of water in hand. As she disappeared down the hall, Xavier watched her go, his expression unreadable, though his eyes lingered on the spot where she'd just stood.

Only when she was gone did he let out a small breath, a flicker of something he couldn't quite place making him shake his head. This was going to be a long three months.