"What?" Ethan says in his all too familiar deep, rude voice. Ethan has pitch-black hair, is 6 feet tall, with a solid build. His deep grey eyes are glaring at me right now. His jawline is so sharp I’m sure it can cut through anything.
"You hit me, spilling my coffee all over me," I say, pointing out the obvious.
"So, what do you want me to do about it?" he asks, like he’s done nothing wrong.
“You’re supposed to say sorry," I say in a duh tone.
"And why should I?”
“Because that’s what people with manners do."
"I know that, but you don't deserve a sorry from me."
"Wow. And why is that?"
"Because black bitches like you don't deserve it," he says with a sneer.
“I have told you times without number to stop calling me that,” I say, angry at his insults.
"Make me," Ethan says, taking a dangerous step closer. I don't say anything but hiss and walk past him. I don't know why I expected him to apologize. It’s Ethan, after all.
*******
Ethan is a young male about to get his first degree, he might look normal to the world, but don’t we all have our demons inside. Ethan has a problem that he feels hatred is the best way to cure it, but one lady proves him wrong. Adina is a beautiful young girl who is also about to get her first degree at the same university as Ethan. Adina is full of life and dislikes anyone who thinks they can bully her. Ethan is hell-bent on bringing hell down on Adina, and she is determined to shove it up all the way into his ass. They are both opposites, but they say opposites attract one other. 
What happens when a significant incident changes all that. How do these two different people deal with a feeling that is supposed to be forbidden to feel for each other?

The American

I walk to the guest room to clean up and change because there is no way I could do anything in my clothes, but I don’t have spare clothes with me. I walk upstairs to Ethan’s room to ask him if he has anything that I could wear after I take a shower. I get to the top of the stairs, and there are two doors. One by the left and another by the right, I knock on the door by the right, hoping it's Ethan’s room. A shirtless Ethan with only his sweatpants on, answers the door. Ya Allah is this some type of punishment or something. Why do I keep seeing his gorgeous body all day? I quickly look to the floor; I don’t want to look at his chest. 


“How can I help?” Ethan says once he answers the door 


“Please could you put on a shirt,” I say playing with my fingers, holding myself from looking up to that amazing body of his. 


“Because it’s not good for me to stare.” 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN