A classic start

Emma walked into the kitchen, a genuine, soft smile on her face. She really wanted to do something nice for Tom this morning, a cup of tea forvthem both to start the morning seemed a good idea.

The kitchen was already occupied. Ben was leaning against the counter, his back to her, nursing a mug of coffee. He was in his boxers, the fabric loose and hanging low on his hips, his posture relaxed. The sight of him immediately tightened Emma’s chest, her breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with being a good girlfriend.

"Morning," she said, trying to keep her tone bright and airy.

Ben turned slowly. He didn't have that sharp, predatory smirk he’d worn before; instead, he just looked at her, his eyes taking her in. He was tired, but he was present. He didn't say anything at first, just finished a long, slow sip of his coffee while his gaze lingered on her face.

"Morning," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly monotone. There was no knowing tone, or invite to more in it.

Emma busied herself, trying to ignore the way her pulse jumped. "Making tea for us," she said, perhaps too quickly, as if saying it out loud would justify her presence or the nervous energy radiating off her. "Def need a cuppa this morning"

He nodded once, setting his mug down on the counter with a dull *thud*. He didn't move away, but he didn't crowd her, either. He just stood there, watching her with that unreadable, heavy stare. It was more unnerving than his taunts; it felt like he was simply waiting, holding space in the room, claiming it without saying a word.

The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the kettle beginning to heat up. Emma felt her resolve to be "normal" fraying. Every time she moved, she was hyper-aware of him watching her, not with malice, but with a rapt attention that made her skin prickle. She felt exposed, as if he could see right through the 'good girlfriend' act she was trying to pull off.

He finished his coffee, pushed off the counter, and walked past her toward the doorway. As he passed, he didn't reach out, didn't whisper a cutting remark, but the mere scent of his skin,sweat coffee, and something purely animal, washed over her. He brushed past her, just enough contact to send a jolt through her spine, making her shoulders tense and her stomach flutter.

He didn't look back as he exited the room, leaving her alone in the sudden silence of the kitchen. She stood by the counter, the kettle boiling, her heart hammering against her ribs, the tea for Tom completely forgotten for a moment as she stared at the empty doorway, her body traitorously alive with the aftermath of Ben's mere presence.