It wasn't long before the mansion ca into view. The sleek exterior stood tall in the darkness, lights from the inside glowing warmly through the windows.
Ethan slowed his bike as he approached the driveway, pulling into the garage and parking it neatly in place.
He removed his helt, ran a hand through his slightly ssy hair, and finally stepped inside.
Only to be greeted by the exact scene he had expected.
Vanessa.
Sprawled on the couch like she had no care in the world, legs stretched out lazily over the armrest, remote in one hand and a half-finished juice box in the other.
A juice box.
Ethan's eyes flickered to the coffee table in front of her, where two — no, three — empty small cartons of juice were stacked on top of each other.
"…Are you serious?"
Vanessa turned her head slightly, blinking at him like she had just noticed his presence. Then, without missing a beat, she took another sip of her juice.
"What?" she said, voice muffled by the straw.
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea how many drinks you've gone through since you moved in?"
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who said 'make yourself at ho.'"
"That didn't an drink half the damn kitchen."
She rolled her eyes and sat up, stretching. "Relax, Marianne probably restocked already."
Ethan crossed his arms. "Did she?"
There was a pause. Vanessa pursed her lips.
"…Maybe."
Ethan exhaled, dropping onto the couch beside her with a tired groan.
She tilted her head at him. "Long day?"
"The longest."
Vanessa smirked. "You actually worked today, huh?"
Ethan gave her a look. "What's that supposed to an?"
"Nothing." She shrugged. "Just didn't think I'd see you doing manual labor. Must've been a sight."
Ethan leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes for a mont. "I own the place. If the work takes longer, that's more money and ti wasted. I figured helping out would keep things moving."
Instead of continuing, he pushed himself off the couch and walked toward the kitchen. The fridge opened with a soft click, and he scanned the insides.
To his relief, there were, in fact, drinks.
"Marianne actually restocked," he muttered.
Vanessa called from the living room, "Told ya!"
Ethan grabbed a cold can and shut the fridge, popping it open with a crisp hiss. He took a long sip, the cold liquid soothing against his throat.
As much as he hated to admit it, this was exactly what he needed.
A mont to just… breathe.
When he walked back into the living room, Vanessa had already grabbed the remote again, flipping through channels like she had nothing better to do.
Ethan arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be doing sothing productive?"
"This is productive," she shot back. "I'm expanding my knowledge on combat techniques."
Ethan glanced at the screen.
It was a wrestling match.
"…Right."
Vanessa grinned. "Hey, don't underestimate wrestling. It's all about strategy, skill, and — "
Her words cut off as the guy on screen got slamd onto the mat.
Ethan gave her a pointed look. "And?"
Vanessa winced. "…Pain tolerance."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. He took another sip of his drink and sank into the couch beside her.
Ethan leaned back against the couch, fingers drumming against the side of his cold drink as Vanessa flipped through channels absentmindedly.
The two of them had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of lazy conversation, sothing light after an exhausting day.
"So, what did you do today?" he asked, stretching his legs out.
Vanessa smirked, sipping from yet another juice box. "Why? Thought I was just lounging around all day?"
Ethan arched an eyebrow. "That is what you do."
Vanessa feigned offense, placing a hand over her chest. "I'll have you know, I actually left the house today."
Ethan's brows lifted in mild surprise. "You? Outside? In public?"
"Shocking, I know." She grinned, tossing her empty juice box toward the trash can — missing it completely. "I went with Marianne to the supermarket. Your credit card paid for it, by the way."
Ethan let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, it did."
Vanessa laughed. "Relax, we didn't just buy drinks. We restocked the whole kitchen — house food and all. You should be thanking ."
Ethan glanced at her skeptically. "You restocked? Properly?"
Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Yes, properly. ats, veggies, frozen food, even so expensive-looking cheese Marianne picked out."
Ethan let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, that's a first. Guess I'll have to check the receipts to make sure you didn't sneak in sothing ridiculous."
"No faith in , huh?"
"None."
Vanessa scoffed but didn't argue. Instead, her attention returned to the wrestling match playing on the TV.
On the screen, a burly wrestler was being slamd into the mat for what had to be the tenth ti that night.
Ethan winced. "Damn. I think that guy just lost half his spine."
Vanessa smirked. "See? That's why wrestling is a real sport. Not just fake theatrics."
"Right. Because that man flipping through the air just now definitely didn't rehearse that for weeks."
"Hey, don't ruin the magic."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. He let his body sink further into the couch, finally feeling so of the exhaustion drain away.
As he was about to take another sip of his drink, the soft clinking of utensils drew his attention toward the doorway.
Marianne entered, carrying a large, steaming tray of food.
"Finally," she muttered, placing the tray on the table in front of Ethan. "You co ho too late these days."
Ethan glanced at the three-course al before him. Perfectly grilled steak, a rich side of mashed potatoes with butter lting on top, and a fresh salad drizzled in so kind of vinaigrette.
A bowl of soup was also placed on the side, steaming with an aroma that made his stomach grumble.
"Damn, Marianne. You didn't have to go this hard."
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