The Turning Point

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- I'M A BAD BOY

Heloyse

"I'll get some more wine."
Will got up, and I thought this would be the perfect moment to go in search of any place far from him.
Just ahead, I spotted Johnson. He saw me and waved with a warm smile on his face. I confess that Johnson's beauty was something enchanting, however, it didn't compare, not even close, to Will's.
I wasn't sure why I felt this way about him. I knew it was normal to admire someone, but there was something deeper, and I couldn't decipher it. Since I saw Will for the first time, he had been taking over my thoughts. The night before, I imagined what it would be like to kiss him, touch his hair... And then, we had that kiss. An awkward kiss, but still, ours.
When I think of him, I get lost in that face. Every curve, every feature, was irresistibly inviting. Was it normal to feel something like that for someone who knew how to drive me crazy?
I didn't know the answer, much less what to name that feeling. Maybe I had let his beauty fascinate me, even when he acted like a perfect idiot.
"May I have this dance, Lisy?" Johnson's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Johnson? You startled me..."
"I'm sorry... I saw you here alone and thought we could keep each other company. How about we dance?"
I hesitated, looked around, and saw Will talking to a couple while holding a bottle of wine. When he saw me, his relaxed posture disappeared, and even though I couldn't see his face, I know his expression wasn't the friendliest.
I got up, and Johnson offered his hand.
What harm would it do? It was just a dance, and I didn't need to bother with Will's opinion. I accepted Johnson's hand and let him lead me to where people were dancing.
As the music played, Johnson brought his face close to mine and whispered:
"You're radiant, Lisy, and here, now, seems to be the only place I should be."
I smiled, trying not to think about the somewhat passionate declaration Johnson gave me, and changed the subject.
"I don't know how to dance country."
"Don't worry, dear, I'm the right person for this mission," he winked.
Patiently, he taught me a few steps, and minutes later, we were laughing and dancing with the others. The light atmosphere soon changed when the music became slower, and couples formed again.
"Have you become friends with O'Connor?"
"No! I mean, I've only seen him a few times."
"I see," Johnson replied with a smile. "It's obvious you're not friends. That would be impossible."
"Why?"
"Because he doesn't like women's company."
"What? So he prefers men's company?" I asked, frowning, remembering the unexpected kiss in the bathroom.
"No, Lisy," Johnson laughed, "I mean he doesn't have friendships with women. When he gets close to one, it's because the intention is different. He has the reputation of using women and then discarding them as if they were nothing."
The comment caught me off guard, and I couldn't hide my displeasure.
"Why did you decide to tell me this?"
"Because you're too beautiful, and I'm sure he noticed that. The women in town throw themselves at him, but when he has them, he discards them without thinking twice. My sister was one of them."
"Did they date?"
"Didn't you understand? He's not the type to date. It was just for one night, and my sister had a crush on him, but he never wanted anything serious. I saw her cry so many times because of him."
"And does she still like him?"
"No. That was a long time ago. Today, she lives in New York, married and with two children."
"That's good! I'm happy for her."
Johnson placed his hand on my face and caressed it.
"I just want your good, Lisy. People aren't always what they seem."
I kept his words in my memory.
The music ended, but before I could say anything, a firm voice behind us caught our attention.
"Shall we dance, Heloyse?"
"As you can see, she's dancing with me."
Will approached, standing between the two of us. He was taller than Johnson, and as he approached, he had to tilt his face to face him.
"Not anymore, Johnson," he turned and stood in front of me.
Some couples around us seemed interested in what was happening.
"She's not obligated, O'Connor," Johnson retorted.
Will hardened his expression and turned to Johnson again.
"She can speak for herself, so shut your mouth and let her answer."
"What's going on?" I wondered.
"I think I'd better look for Cielo. Excuse me," I said, trying to avoid that little show.
I prepared to run, but Will grabbed my hand and pointed towards the patio.
"I'll take you."
"Please, don't touch me..." I thought, feeling the heat rise through my body.
"Do you want me to take you, Lisy?" Johnson offered.
Will looked at Johnson, and the expression of contempt was evident.
The faces were still turned in our direction, and I was starting to get nervous.
"Johnson, thank you for the dance and for your concern, but I think it's better if we talk another time."
He looked at me for a few seconds, then glared at Will with anger before walking away.
Will hurriedly left, taking me with him, and instead of going to the other hall, he took me to a patio.
"Could you slow down?"
He didn't stop, just continued without caring if there were people there. In seconds, we were in front of a side gate. Will let go of me, opened the gate, and gestured for me to pass.
"What do you want, William? Why did you bring me here?"
"Trust me," he said with a slightly low voice.
I looked beyond the gate, still divided between reason and curiosity. I don't need to say which one I chose, right?
I went through the gate and realized it was a secluded garden belonging to the Whites. The soft moonlight filtered through the leaves of the trees, creating a play of shadows and sparkles.
Under the silver moonlight, the tall, slender trees cast delicate shadows across the well-kept lawn, as if they were dancing to the sound of the wind. The leaves, bathed in moonlight, shone with a soft tone, as if they were painted with liquid silver. Among the trees, wrought iron posts—the old, romantic lampposts that seemed to have come from another century—spread a warm, yellowish light that competed with the ethereal glow of the sky, gently illuminating the stone paths that meandered through the garden.
The perfume of the flowers was in the air, sweet and enveloping. Climbing roses climbed over iron arches, their delicate petals looking like rubies under the light of the sconces. Lavenders and jasmines filled the space with their fragrances, while white lilies looked almost luminous under the light.
In the heart of the space, there was a wrought iron bench, with delicate arabesques and a soft pastel-colored cushion, inviting and serene. It was the kind of place where souls met without needing words, surrounded by the stillness broken only by the distant sound of a stream and the occasional chirping of a cricket.
I walked slowly, still impressed, and sat on the bench, lost in all that beauty.
I looked at Will; the moonlight kissed his skin, highlighting his features, while the wind played with his hair. He approached in silence, his steps muffled by the soft carpet of grass.
My heart beat fast, while his expression was serene, as if that moment was something he knew would happen forever.
When he stopped in front of me, I looked up, surprised but not afraid. He leaned closer, his hand reaching my face with a gesture so delicate that he seemed afraid to hurt me. His fingers brushed the skin of my cheek, and the world around was silenced, as if nature itself were holding its breath.
"You can shine brighter than the moon itself," he murmured, his voice low, full of admiration and tenderness.
I gave a shy smile.
Suddenly, that connection was broken when I gradually remembered his harsh words in the bathroom.
I got up and walked past him, but Will grabbed me.
"Stay!"
"I'm not a prostitute."
"I know."
"And when did you change your mind if I'm still wearing the same vulgar dress?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I shouldn't have said that. I really didn't mean to say that. I know it doesn't justify it, but I really don't know why I acted that way. But if you want the truth, you're the most beautiful woman at this party. There's nothing wrong with your dress. The only thing wrong here is the fact that you're still wearing it."
I widened my eyes.
"What?"
He pulled me closer to him, his warm breath touching my ear as his words whispered like a soft breeze:
"I want to take off your dress," he murmured, his voice low and full of desire.
His gaze fixed on my lips, almost as if he were remembering their taste.
He slid his hand down my waist, reaching the neckline on my back, feeling the texture of my skin against his fingers.
My breathing was a little accelerated with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.
"I want to lay you down on the grass," he continued, his voice almost a caress, "feel the softness of your skin as we lose ourselves in each other."
The image of our bodies together, naked and intertwined, dancing in the freedom of the night, enveloped me.
He invited me to surrender to that moment, where the world around would disappear and all that would remain would be the electricity between us.
His eyes shone with a mixture of desire and sincerity, and I felt instantly drawn, even though I wanted to keep my distance.
I took a deep breath, fighting against the growing anticipation inside me.
"I don't know if it's a good idea..." I murmured, but my voice carried a slip of enthusiasm, a disguised invitation.
In a gentle movement, he ran his hand through my hair, making me feel a sudden shiver.
"Sometimes the best ideas are the ones we don't plan."
He leaned in, his lips almost touching mine, and my hesitation evaporated like a raindrop on a hot day.
Then, in an impulse that seemed inevitable, he kissed me. It was an intense kiss, charged with emotion and repressed desire. Our lips met with an urgency that seemed to have been contained for too long. I felt the heat spread through my body, the barriers I had tried to erect crumbling before the force of that moment.
My resistance melted like smoke, and in the midst of the kiss, I gently grabbed the back of his neck, as if trying to anchor myself in that moment. The kiss deepened, charged with passion, and when we finally pulled away, my eyes were still closed because I still wanted to prolong that feeling.
When I opened them, I found his gaze fixed on mine, an intensity that made me blush.
Suddenly, his gaze changed, as if he had returned to the world of lucidity.
"I shouldn't have rushed..." he began, but I interrupted him.
"Don't apologize. I... wanted that too," my voice was low, shy, almost a whisper, but there was a firmness in it that couldn't be ignored.
"No... I shouldn't have said those things in the bathroom, and I shouldn't have brought you here and said these things."
I blinked, surprised, and then pushed him away.
"You offended me, then treated me as if I were something precious you desire, and now you regret kissing me. What did you want? To prove something to yourself? To prove to me that you were right when you compared me to a vulgar woman? Is that it, William?"
"No!" he said firmly, then looked away, moving away from me.
"Well, maybe we should go back. Soon people will notice we're gone and start comparing me to the countless women you discard."
"What do you mean by that?"
I didn't answer and started walking, but his voice stopped me.
"If I wanted to discard you, I would have continued. I would have taken off your clothes slowly, explored every part of you, while your eyes looked at me between hesitation and desire. I would have laid you on the ground, and believe me, I would have buried myself so deep in you that every touch of mine would be marked on your skin and in your memory. I would have heard your timid moans at the beginning and made a point of turning them into screams, giving you every piece of pleasure I could extract from both of us"—he ran his hands through his hair—"but when it was all over, you would go home alone, with a tired body and a confused mind, because deep down, you would know it wouldn't be anything more than that. That the next day, we would continue as strangers, because until then, that's what we are. Two strangers who are attracted to each other. And at no time would I have allowed anything more than this night. Is that what you want? Something empty that would end as quickly as it began?"
I felt my whole body tremble, as if every word of his was a warm breath on my skin. My breath caught, my wide eyes fixed on him, as the weight of what he said fell like an overwhelming wave. The way he spoke, the intensity of his husky voice, the way his eyes burned into mine... it was almost unbearable.
I bit my lip, looked away, trying to regain control of myself. But it was no use. His presence stirred me in a way I didn't know how to handle.
"I... need to go," I murmured, my voice low, almost inaudible.
"We agree on something here."
He stared at me for a moment, measuring his words perhaps, before finally saying:
"That was a mistake."
The night was no longer so beautiful, and all that shine and colors under the moonlight were gone as I hurried across the garden and into the patio.
Some people were talking on the other side and didn't notice our presence.
Will, who was behind me, touched my arm and then spoke:
"Heloyse..."
His speech was interrupted when Thom approached.
"There you are."
Thom looked at us for a moment, frowning.
"Some people commented that there was a misunderstanding between Johnson and Will. What happened?" Thom asked.
"Johnson is an imbecile!" said Will, putting his hands in his pockets.
I rolled my eyes.
Thom shook his head negatively at Will, then introduced me to Simon White, Patsy's father. And after the introductions, Mr. White tried to convince me to stay.
"We'll have many other attractions, Heloyse. If you leave now, you'll miss the best of the party."
He was short, with a broad belly, a beard mixed with white strands that compensated for the lack of hair on his head. He wasn't a man we could call "handsome," however, he was very friendly.
"I appreciate it, and I loved meeting you. Your farm is very beautiful, and everything was very tasteful, but I really would like to go."
Mr. White understood and politely withdrew. Thom asked me to wait for him.
"Thom, I don't want to ruin your night. I'll find a way to get home."
"It's no problem at all. I'll take you and then come back," Thom replied.
"I'll take Heloyse home. I was going anyway," Will offered.
I didn't want to ruin the Ferrel's night, so I agreed and insisted that Thom stay. He accepted and withdrew, wishing me a good night.
"Let's go?" Will asked.
I just started walking on autopilot towards the hall. I said goodbye to Cielo, Jeremy, and Megan and complimented Patsy's mother on the party.
I took a deep breath and went to the table to get my bag, and when I turned around, Will grabbed my hand.
How can the touch of a hand be so much deeper than many other gestures?
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"You owe me a dance."
"I can very well let go of you and leave."
"Or you can dance with me and prove to yourself that I don't affect you," he said, putting his lips to my ear.
"You don't affect me."
"Prove it!" he said and smiled challengingly.
There was no damn way to answer. Not when he spoke close and with his body next to mine.
We danced quietly, just feeling each other's bodies. The dance was slow, out of rhythm with the music, and at some point, I had my head resting on him so intimately that I could hear his heart. It beat controlled, while mine seemed to beat unevenly.
"I'm a bad boy," said the song lyrics.
He raised one hand and caressed my face. His eyes seemed to want to look into the depths of my soul. He had his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but instead of speaking, he pulled me closer and hugged me tightly. We weren't dancing anymore... we were just there, stopped and hugged, as if we depended on it.
When the music ended, his hands left me. He looked into my eyes and gave a small smile.
"I'll take you home."
I nodded my head and watched as some people looked at us and tried to hide it. Congratulations. We gave our second show.
Still holding my hand, he led me to the parking lot.
After a while, Will let go of my hand and opened the truck door for me to get in.
I got in, he closed the door, and quickly, I rolled down the window. When Will was about to walk around the truck, Patsy's voice caught our attention. She had a glass of wine in one hand and was walking a little unsteadily.
"Are you leaving already?" her voice a little loud.
"Yes," he replied.
"What a shame. The night isn't over yet, William. Some women want to dance with you."
The drunkenness in her voice was evident.
He sighed, stopping reluctantly, as if calculating the weight of an inevitable conversation.
"You're drunk. You should rest," he said firmly, crossing his arms as if trying to impose a barrier.
I watched the scene in the rearview mirror, and a discomfort took over me. The night needed to end quickly.
As if she sensed my presence. Patsy looked at me, tilting her head with a crooked smile.
"Ah, now I understand..." she said, dragging her words, her eyes fixed on me. "Are you two screwing?" she laughed again. "Your little saint face never convinced me, Heloyse."
"It's none of your business, Patsy," his voice now sounded sharper, more controlled, as if he wanted to avoid drawing more attention. "You need to go."
"I don't want to. I want to get drunk and forget that you're a bastard."
Will was quiet for a few seconds and then turned his back on her. Patsy threw the wine glass away and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her.
"She'll be another one of your toys, because in the end, that's what you do with everyone."
"If you know that, why do you run after me, Patsy? Have you tried to value yourself at least a little?"
"I hate you. I hate the way you despise me."
"I never promised you anything. Did I say any word that made you think I wanted something more?"
She remained silent for a few seconds, the remnants of bitterness showing in her eyes.
"Get in now, before I call someone to take you."
She took a step back, staggering, wiped her eyes, and walked away, heading to the hall.
It was visible how tense he was. He got into the truck but didn't say a word. The silence that followed was almost as painful as the scene I saw outside.
The truck parked in front of the small wooden house in the uncomfortable silence that filled the vehicle. The engine still rumbled softly, echoing the tension that hung between us. I looked at my hands in my lap, trying to avoid eye contact.
The event in the garden still seemed to hang in the air, mixed with the scene I witnessed between him and Patsy.
"Thank you for the ride," I said, then opened the door and got out of the truck.
"Not every mistake is a reason for regret," he said, finally, his voice firm but not without an intentional softness. "Some... some we want to repeat."
I stared at him for a brief moment, my eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to process the weight of those words. My heart was racing, but I couldn't decipher if it was from anger, shame, or something I didn't want to admit. Without answering, I left without looking back.
He remained there, motionless as I opened the house door.
As soon as I entered and closed the door, I leaned against the wood, taking a deep breath. His phrase echoed in my mind, a mixture of provocation and confession. Then, through the window glass next door, I saw the truck's taillights disappear down the road, accompanied by the sound of the engine that slowly faded into the distance.
With the house plunged into silence, a sudden memory arose:
"I'm a bad boy" said the song.
That night, lying in bed, the emotions still danced confusedly in my head. He was a problem, a mess. But somehow, I fell asleep with a shy smile on my lips, thinking about how handsome he was.