The Project || 18+ [ON HOLD]

7. 🌶️

I've torn down most of the wallpaper throughout the house. The walls stand bare, needing attention, but first, I need to check the wiring. I'm no electrician, but even I know this old house needs a thorough electrical inspection. The thought of dealing with wires and circuits sends a shiver down my spine. I add it to my mental to-do list, right after plumbing.

Plumbing. The word echoes in my head as I move to the kitchen. The disconnected sink, the dripping pipes. I need to check for leaks, ensure everything's in working order. It's a task I'm not looking forward to, but it's necessary. I can almost hear Killian's teasing voice, making some joke about me getting wet again. The thought brings a reluctant smile to my face, quickly suppressed. I'm avoiding him, aren't I?

Two days. It's been two days since I last saw Killian, and he's been conspicuously absent. Part of me wonders if he's avoiding me as I am him. The other part, the one I keep shoving down, misses the banter, the way he challenged me.

I shake the thoughts away, refocusing on the task at hand. The kitchen, stripped of its cabinets, feels bare and exposed. I turn my attention to the plumbing under the sink. With a flashlight in hand, I illuminate the dark, cramped space, scrutinizing the pipes for any sign of leaks or damage. I mentally catalogue the tools I'll need for this intricate work. Standing up, I dust my hands on my overalls, ready to tackle each challenge this old house throws at me.

The living room is next. More demolition awaits, but there's an eagerness within me to tear down the old and make way for the new. Most of the walls in here need replaced. Each strike of the hammer is cathartic, a physical manifestation of my determination.

As I work, my mind wanders to Whiskey Creek Bar. I've wanted to go, to grab a drink, maybe unwind a little. But the thought of running into Killian there stops me every time. It's ridiculous, this dance of avoidance we're doing. But I'm not ready to face him, not yet.

The day wears on, destruction and construction playing out in the walls of the house. I tear down, I plan, I build—in my head, at least. The house is taking shape, slowly but surely.

I'm in the middle of removing a particularly stubborn piece of plaster when I hear footsteps behind me. Without looking, I know it's him. His presence has become a familiar disturbance in my focused solitude.

"Finally decided to show up, huh? The yard missed its resident slacker," I say without turning, my voice laced with sarcasm.

There's a pause, and then Killian's voice, warm and amused, "Well, someone has to make you look good. It's a tough job, but I'll take the hit."

I roll my eyes, turning to face him. He's leaning against the doorway, a casual smirk on his face. "Why are you always around when I'm working?" I ask, more out of curiosity than annoyance.

"I like to watch you sweat," he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I huff, turning back to the wall. "You're really into this project, aren't you?" he asks, moving closer.