Chapter 5: Propositions and Physics
The plan, hatched in the giddy, post-tea confidence of Elara's kitchen, was simple in its foolishness. Amaya would march right into the lion's den—also known as Aris's bedroom—and state her case. After all, his mother had all but given her blessing. What could go wrong?
She waited until she saw Elara leave for her weekly grocery run. She watched Aris's window, the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminating the small figure bent over a stack of papers. The fortress was unguarded.
Her heart was a wild drum against her ribs as she tiptoed through the silent Rowon house. She'd never been in this part of it before. It smelled like him—clean laundry, old paper, a faint antiseptic sharpness, and something faintly musky that was unmistakably him. She paused outside his door, drew a shaky breath, and pushed it open.
He was at his desk, oblivious to her presence, head bent over a complex anatomical diagram. His glasses were off, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. The room was spartan. Military-precision bed, shelves groaning under the weight of textbooks, a single lamp casting a warm circle of light over the papers.
"Aris," she said, her voice just a touch too loud.
He spun in his chair, expression shifting from shock to annoyance in milliseconds. "Amaya? What are you doing in here? Get out."
This was it. No turning back.
"I have a proposition for you," she announced, planting her hands on her hips, trying to look like she'd stepped out of a romance novel rather than a sixteen-year-old girl in glittery butterfly hair clips.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not helping you with your science homework."
"It's not about homework!" she huffed, stepping closer. "It's about… us. You should marry me."
The silence was so thick she could hear the faint hum of his computer. He didn't laugh. He didn't scowl. He simply regarded her as if she'd just claimed she could turn lead into gold. Then he did something utterly unexpected—he walked over, pinched her earlobe gently.
"Ouch!" she yelped.
"That's for being ridiculous," he said softly. His face, close to hers, was tired and unyielding. "If you need a male figure in your life, you can call me 'older brother.' Now go away. I'm busy."
The word felt like a bucket of cold water over her head. She batted his hand away, cheeks flaming. "I already have an older brother. I don't need another one."
Her mind raced. "Let me call you something else! Honey? Hubby? Boyfie? Mi amore?" She stuck her tongue out for emphasis, because obviously, that was the perfect argument.
For a single, heart-stopping second, she saw it—something flickering in his eyes. Not annoyance, not anger. Something startled, something faintly… human. Then it vanished, replaced by his familiar exasperation. "You read too many of those books. Get out of my room, Amaya."
She spun around to flee but her foot caught on a stray tennis ball he'd clearly been hoarding for some reason. She let out a shriek, feet flailing, bracing for impact.
Then, a strong arm shot out, catching her mid-fall. The world tilted and righted itself. Her back collided with his chest. Heat, strength, tension. She was suspended in his arms, heart hammering like a trapped bird.
She looked up. He was inches away, glasses slightly askew, messy hair falling over his forehead. His grip firm, steady. And for the first time, she saw him looking at her—really looking. Not annoyed, not indifferent, but present.
Time seemed to pause. She pressed herself a little closer, savoring the strength of him. His expression softened imperceptibly, just enough for her to wonder if he'd been holding back the last few seconds of humanity he allowed himself.
Finally, he released her, setting her down with meticulous care, as if she were fragile. "Watch your step," he said, voice low and rough. "And get out."
Amaya didn't need to be told twice. She fled, ghost of his arm lingering in memory, burning like a brand.
But once she was safely outside, her mind refused to quiet. He caught me. He held me. And he didn't push me away completely.
She returned home to find Liam sprawled on the living room couch, controller in hand. He barely glanced up. "Rough day at the lab?" he asked lazily.
"Worse," she said, collapsing on the floor beside him. "I declared myself fiancée of the boy next door and lived to tell the tale."
Liam snorted. "You did what now?"
"I proposed." Her voice rang with dramatic flourish. "To Aris. I told him to marry me. Right in his room!"
Liam choked on his soda. "Wait—you went into his room? Alone? Without permission?"
"Not just alone," she said, flopping onto her back, hands behind her head. "I caught a tennis ball, almost died, and he caught me. Like… like a hero out of one of my books."
Liam blinked at her. "He… caught you?"
"Yes! And—and he didn't push me away. He didn't yell. He just… looked at me. It was terrifying. And… and amazing."
Liam shook his head, grinning. "You're insane. But I love it. That's my sister. Falling for the neighbor while practically staging a home invasion."
Amaya laughed, rolling onto her side. "I am insane! But this is exactly how it should be. Bold, fearless, completely illogical."
Liam leaned back, regarding her thoughtfully. "You know… I think I understand why you like him so much. He's frustrating, he's cold, and he's… impossible. But you get it. You see past all the walls. You don't care about the boring, safe route. That's you, Amaya Snow."
She grinned, heart still hammering. "Exactly. And one day, he's going to notice me the way I notice him. Maybe he won't admit it, maybe he'll pretend he doesn't care… but he will."
Liam smirked. "You're ridiculous."
"I know!" she squealed. "But you love it."
"I do," he admitted with a small shrug. "But don't expect me to cover for you if he—uh, I mean—" He stopped, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. "Just… don't crash his room again."
Amaya laughed again, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling. The hum of the evening air carried the echo of the thrill she'd just lived through. She felt unstoppable, untouchable. And for the first time, she realized Liam wasn't just her brother. He was her anchor. Her confidant. The one person who could witness her wildest, most reckless ideas and still cheer for her.
She shifted slightly, resting her head against his shoulder. "Promise me something," she said softly.
"Anything."
"Promise you'll always be my partner-in-crime. Even when I do dumb things like propose to my neighbor."
Liam rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his grin. "Always."
Amaya let out a contented sigh. The mission was far from over. Aris's walls were high, and she'd only caught a glimpse through the cracks. But now she had a plan, a champion beside her, and the courage to follow through.
And maybe, just maybe, the boy next door would see her the way she imagined.