the power of one's silence

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A cold chill rushes through my body, starting at my feet and ending at my shoulders. The tile beneath me doesn't help matters. Everyone else is asleep upstairs so I have the kitchen all to myself to make something quick for breakfast.

Last night was restless. After Jake came in, I did actually go to sleep before being jolted awake by a nightmare. I can't remember it, but the only indicator I had of it was the cold sweat that layered my skin and the uneasy feeling that lingered for hours. Next thing I knew, I was watching the sunrise to the sounds of birds chirping softly. I got another short nap after that, but once I woke up still feeling like a zombie I completely gave up on sleep. What I do need though is a coffee and a shower. Coffee first, obviously.

I slowly stir the coffee grounds into the boiling hot water, too tired to really think much of anything. Grabbing the creamer from the fridge and dumping more than enough into my mug, I take a long sip of the cup of heaven. I don't even care if it's burning the shit out of my tongue, I need the caffeine.

The sound of footsteps behind me make me jump and turn around as quick as my tired body will allow me to. I realize it's only Dominic, so I continue nursing the cup of coffee in my hand.

"Good morning," I say only to be polite. After how straightforward he was yesterday, I hardly want to strike up a conversation, especially not while I'm only running on 4 hours of sleep at most.

"Morning," he says in a clipped tone.

I move out of the kitchen while he's moving in. Hoisting myself up onto one of the barstools, I figure going back up to my room would be best. But at the same time, I'm not going to let him "scare" me out of the kitchen. My pride and stubbornness simply won't allow that.

"You slept alright?" he asks. I wasn't exactly anticipating any conversation, so the unexpected inquiry caught me off guard.

"Yeah," I lie. God knows how shit my night really was but I don't feel like delving into it, especially not with this awfully judgmental individual.

Dominic nods slowly, the sarcasm of the action not lost on him for a second. "Just sleeping? No talking or messing about?" he asks so casually, but there's a hint of accusation in his words.

His tone is enough to let a sliver of anger seep into my bones. All I've done thus far is push Jake away for the sake of the deal. And now I'm being accused of trying to attempt something that goes beyond the boundaries of friendship? By someone that I just met? "Do you have something to say, Dominic?" I say calmly, even though I'm anything but.

He shrugs nonchalantly, the obvious sign that he means to passive-aggressively imply something. And passive-aggressiveness has never and will never sit right with me. "No, nothing." He simply grabs his mug of dark coffee and starts to head out of the kitchen.

But my curiosity and my inability to let things go get the best of me. "I get it, you don't like me," I blurt out. He stops in his tracks and turns around with an eyebrow raised in question. "But the petty attitude isn't necessary," I add.

Dominic scoffs and walks back over to the other side of the kitchen island. "Took you that long to figure it out, huh Sherlock?" With a forced smile, he raises the coffee mug up to his mouth and takes a sip.

My coffee has been long forgotten due to the shock at the gall he has. He hardly even knows me, what gives him the right to start tossing around all these assumptions? For all I know he could just have a sad little life of his own that he has to fill it with the pride he takes in judging others. Thinking he has me read like a fucking book, please. "What is your problem? I barely even know you and you think you can just come in here and start passing your own worthless judgments on me," I reprimand sharply.

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