[Previously titled 𝗚𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁𝘆 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲]
❝No, Ace. I can't do it," I sob.
"I know you can take more than that, sunshine, come on," he encourages, pummeling into me in fervent motions. "One more for daddy, yeah?" He coaxes in a gruffly voice...
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O L I V I A
In my art history class, thoughts of the night with Ace keep returning. His touch, laughter, and the unexpected liveliness he brought linger in my mind. It's distracting, making it hard to focus on the lecture. I'm both attracted and cautious about Ace. Is getting closer a mistake?
The professor talks about important topics, but I find myself doodling on my sketchbook's corner. My mind is a mix of thoughts. Ace's offer to tutor me needs a decision soon. A week has passed, and delaying could complicate things.
Honestly, I'm scared. Scared that letting this connection grow could lead to something unexpected. I fear the lines between student and teacher, friendship and something more, will blur into a mess. I glance at my sketch, a chaotic reflection of my feelings. I close the sketchbook, focusing on the class.
Walking back to my apartment, I replay our conversations, the laughter, and his penetrating gaze. It's both thrilling and frightening. Though, it's clear I have to decide about Ace's offer. I can't keep avoiding it. I take out my phone, reading his mail again. But something tells me the connection is risky.
Accepting might lead to complications. I type a decline, thanking him for the offer. After sending the mail, I remind myself it's the right choice. Focus on studies, on art, and avoid complications.
・❥・
I sneak a quick look at the clock, only ten minutes left in class. I've been avoiding Ace after declining his offer, changing my schedule to miss him. Why did I mail him? It feels like a cowardly move, but facing him is daunting.
The night we spent together replays in my mind—his touch, his laughter. I'm entangled in these sensations, unable to sort them out. What's stranger is my body's reaction around him. His touch sends shivers, my heart races, and I can't concentrate. It's as if my body has a mind of its own when he's near.
All of this is driving me mad. What is it about Ace that's disrupting my world? We barely know each other, yet he sets me on fire. It's irrational and frustrating. The desire to be near him, the thrill—it's unsettling. The connection doesn't make sense, but maybe that's how it goes. Inexplicable connections just need to be felt.
"How are you getting on with it, miss Hernandez?"
Ace's voice, rough yet oddly comforting, breaks through my concentration. My heart jumps, but I try to stay focused on my work.
"Um, I'm doing fine," I reply, my voice barely audible, as his presence overwhelms the space around me.
He moves closer, his body so near that I can feel the heat radiating off him. My muscles tense involuntarily, but his cologne wraps around me like a warm embrace, calming my nerves.
