Unwritten Mates

Ethan's laugh echoed softly in the car, warm and genuine. I tried to focus on the light-hearted banter, the subtle warmth of his hand still resting on my knee. The road stretched ahead of us, illuminated by the gentle glow of the headlights, but it was hard to ignore the butterflies rioting in my chest.

I stole another glance at him when he wasn't looking. There was something about the way the corners of his mouth tugged upward, as if he carried some secret that only he was privileged to know. My heart did that stupid flip again.

Then it happened—his hand, tentative and warm, shifted slightly on my knee. I felt the hesitation in his touch, the nervous energy radiating off him.

"Is this okay?" he asked sheepishly, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

My breath caught for a second, but I nodded. "Yeah."

His body visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping as though he'd been holding the weight of the world. "You know," he started, a playful smile curving his lips, "you're a beautiful girl—even though you try to hide from the world."

I shot him an incredulous look. "I don't hide from the world," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "I was literally out with you tonight, in public, with other people."

He chuckled. "Yeah, after a lot of convincing."

"Okay, sure, but that doesn't mean I'm hiding," I retorted. "Maybe I just like my space."

Ethan's thumb traced gentle circles on my knee. "There's a difference between liking your space and building walls, Quinn. It's like you've got this huge fortress around you, and no one's allowed inside unless they have a golden ticket."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, I'm not some mysterious puzzle."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly before refocusing on the road. "You kinda are," he said with a smirk. "But I like puzzles. The reward's sweeter when you have to work for it."

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "Do you think you've cracked the code?"

Ethan squeezed my knee gently. "I think I'm getting there. You've let me in more than I expected, and I appreciate that."

I wasn't prepared for the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond. His words caught me off guard, melting a part of my defenses I hadn't even realized I'd built.

"I'm not exactly an open book," I muttered.

"I'm not asking you to be," he said softly. "I just want you to know I'm here… and I really like you, Quinn."

His confession hung in the air between us, raw and vulnerable. My heart raced, and for the first time in a long while, I felt myself lowering the iron gates around my emotions.

"I… I like you too, Ethan," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Vulnerability wasn't my strong suit, but with him, it didn't feel so terrifying.

Ethan's smile widened, his eyes glowing with warmth. "Good. I was worried I might've read this all wrong."

I laughed softly. "No, you didn't. It's just… complicated. But I'm working on it."

"I can be patient," he said with a wink. "As long as we're on the same page."

The rest of the drive was filled with comfortable silence, punctuated by occasional glances and smiles. The air between us hummed with unspoken words, promises lingering just beneath the surface.

When we pulled up to the inn, Ethan cut the engine and turned to me, his hand still resting on my knee. The warmth of his touch grounded me.

Before I could speak, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a hesitant, tender kiss. It wasn't hurried or demanding—just soft and genuine, a promise wrapped in warmth.

When he pulled back, our foreheads touched briefly. "I've wanted to do that all night," he murmured, his breath fanning against my skin.

I smiled, my heart racing. "Took you long enough."

We both laughed quietly, the tension between us dissolving into something lighter, something new.

"Goodnight, Quinn," he said softly, his thumb still tracing patterns on my knee.

"Goodnight, Ethan," I replied, my heart still fluttering as I climbed out of the car and headed toward the inn.

As I reached the door, my phone buzzed in my hand, snapping me out of my daze. I swiped the screen, expecting a random notification—maybe a harmless text.

But what I saw made me freeze in place.

One new message from: Unknown Number.

You think he's yours? Sweetheart, Ethan isn't who you think he is. You're in way over your head.

My breath caught in my throat. I reread the message, confusion twisting into a knot of anxiety in my chest.

I turned back toward Ethan, who was still sitting in the car, obliviously smiling at me. How could he be so calm?

Was this some kind of sick prank?

I shook my head, trying to dismiss it as a joke, but just as I was about to unlock the door, my phone buzzed again.

One new message from: Unknown Number.

You're playing a dangerous game, Quinn. Ethan doesn't belong to you. He never will.

A shiver ran down my spine. My stomach twisted, nausea bubbling up. Who the hell was this? My fingers trembled as I gripped the phone tighter.

The inn loomed behind me, dark and unsettling. The night felt colder suddenly, shadows stretching longer across the ground.

I glanced back at Ethan. He had gotten out of the car and was walking toward me, completely oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. His easy smile made my head spin.

Did he have something to hide?

Or was this someone else, pulling the strings?

Before I could untangle my thoughts, my phone buzzed for the third time, the vibration louder, almost mocking me.

One new message from: Unknown Number.

Stay away from him, or you'll regret it. I'm watching you. I'm closer than you think.

My eyes darted around the darkened landscape. Trees and shadows stretched endlessly, each one now harboring a threat. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Was someone watching me? Right now?

I took a step toward the door, my body tense, heart racing. The weight of the messages pressed down on me, suffocating.

Who would send something like this?

A jealous ex? Some psycho from the party?

But the last message—I'm closer than you think—felt more sinister. More personal.

I wanted to show Ethan, wanted to demand answers, but fear gnawed at me. What if this was just the beginning? What if telling him made it worse?

Or worse yet—what if he already knew?

Ethan reached me, his brow furrowing at the look on my face. "You okay?"

I forced a smile, shoving the phone into my pocket. "Yeah, just tired," I lied.

He studied me for a moment, as if sensing something was off, but thankfully didn't press.

As we walked toward the door, the night air heavy with unspoken tension, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to unravel.

And whoever was behind those messages?

They weren't going to stop until they got what they wanted.