He steps closer, closing the distance between us.I don’t back away, just grip the headrest of the couch, my heart pounding as he looms over me, his blue eyes intense.He trails a finger through my hair, brushing a stray strand back.
“Don’t… don’t do this,” I whisper, barely able to keep my voice steady.My stomach flutters despite myself, his nearness overwhelming me.
“You sure about that?”he murmurs, his voice low.My words feel caught in my throat, and I’m stuck between wanting to resist him and wanting him closer.
His hand cups my cheek, and before I can push him away, his lips are on mine again.This time, I don’t hold back—I kiss him back, pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss.I should hate him for treating me like this, but I can’t.No matter how hard I try, hating him isn’t working.
He leads the kiss, and I follow, my heart racing as his hands slip under my shirt, fingertips brushing against my skin.Gently and expertly, he removes my hoodie, tossing it to the floor as his lips return to mine.His touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I let out a soft moan, completely caught up in him.Next thing I know, we’re on the couch, my thighs spread apart with Fox between them, his hands exploring, his lips claiming mine.
But suddenly, my stomach churns.I feel light-headed, and not from the thrill of his touch.The beer is taking its toll and nausea twists in my gut.
I push him off abruptly, scrambling to my feet.Confused, he stares at me, wide-eyed.I don’t even make it to my room before I feel the sour taste rising.I barely manage to turn aside before throwing up right there on the living room floor.
“Damn it,” Fox mutters, moving beside me.
His hand rubs my back, steadying me as I struggle to keep upright.The room sways and I feel myself slipping, Fox’s presence is the last thing I’m aware of before everything fades.
16
Conflicted Feelings
Islowlyopenmyeyes, wincing as a pounding headache greets me.I look around me, sighing in contentment at the familiarity.I sit up, pressing my palms to my temples.Why does my head feel like this?Flashes of last night come back—Fox and I being dared to spend seven minutes in heaven, the kiss, and his cold dismissal right after.And then… more drinks.And then I met someone.Daniel?Ryan?Eli—Elias?Yes, Elias.
I remember almost kissing him before Fox interrupted us.And later, the second kiss with Fox, right before I threw up.My face heats up as I remember the way his lips felt on mine, the intensity, and then… the humiliation.
Grabbing my phone, I gape at the screen: 30 missed calls from my parents, Nat, Landon, and Leanne.It’s already past 1 p.m., and I have a shift at the diner in less than an hour.But I don’t feel ready for anything except lying back down.I’m angry at myself for letting Fox have my first kiss, after all the resolve I’d built up not to let him in.And yet… Why do I want it again?Why does my skin feel alive remembering how he touched me?I drag my thumb across my bottom lip, remembering what it felt like to be kissed for the first time.By Fox.
God, it felt so good, despite how much I hate him.I want to feel like that again, like I’m on fire, every nerve awake and alive in a way I’ve never felt before.It’s messed up, I know.But the way his lips felt on mine, the way he touched me—it was like he unlocked something inside me I didn’t even know was there.
And now, I’m stuck, replaying that kiss over and over in my head, no matter how much I try to push it away.I hate that he has this power over me.I hate that even now, after all the things he’s said and done, I still crave him.It’s like he’s burned himself into my skin, into my thoughts, and no amount of anger can erase him.
Every time I see him, my heart races.Every time he looks at me, I feel that pull, that heat that tells me this isn’t over, no matter how much he pretends it is.And maybe, just maybe, he feels it too, even if he’ll never admit it.
I groan and glance at the nightstand beside my bed, spotting a glass of water and some pills—probably for my headache.Then, as I shift under the sheets, I notice I’m wearing different clothes.I frown, taking in the oversized gray t-shirt and black sweats, neither of which are mine.Did Fox…?My cheeks heat up as the thought hits me.
The shirt hangs loose, and the sweats are cinched tightly around my waist to keep them from slipping.There’s no doubt these belong to my roommate.Why would he go through the trouble of changing my clothes?The idea makes my heart pound, even if it leaves me feeling oddly exposed.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I swallow down the mix of embarrassment and something else I can’t place.I take the pills and gulp the water, noticing faint traces of the previous night’s drinks still lingering.After a long shower, I throw on my clothes, fold up Fox’s, and leave them on my bed.It’s strange, but a part of me is relieved that I have them to return later—any excuse to talk, maybe?
Picking up my key and my phone, I step into the hallway, heading toward the kitchen.I stop to glance at the living room, taking note of how everything looks neat with no traces of vomit.
To my surprise, Fox is in the kitchen, cigarette between his lips, eyes glued to the notebook in front of him as he scribbles on it.His hair is slightly tousled, giving him that effortless, annoyingly attractive look.He glances up, meeting my gaze briefly, but returns to his laptop with a flicker of indifference.I can’t tell if it’s just his usual act or if he’s pretending last night didn’t happen.
Feeling the awkwardness in the air, I begin making myself a bowl of cereal.Fox doesn’t look up from his notebook; he’s scribbling away, a cigarette between his fingers, and his laptop open in front of him.I find myself studying him: he’s in a loose black long-sleeve shirt and black jeans, his hair neatly tousled like he’s just come back from somewhere.He seems so focused, almost at ease in his own world, and I can’t help but take in every detail.
“Are you done?”Fox breaks the silence, looking up at me from underneath his eyelashes.
Great.He just caught me checking him out.
I blush, looking away as I avoid his gaze.
Clearing my throat, I shift awkwardly and finally turn to look at him.“Thanks for… last night.You know, cleaning up and… changing me into, uh, your clothes,” I say, rubbing my nape.“About your clothes, once I wash them I’m going to give them back.”
“Keep them,” he mutters without looking up.
Oh.
“Uh, why did you change me into your clothes?”I ask, scratching the back of my neck.
