Deviant Love

22 - HER

[Chapter 22]

"You fucking kissed him," Travis exclaimed in shock, his voice slicing through the air like an accusation.

I found myself at his place, my face buried in the pillow as I groaned, the softness doing little to muffle the embarrassment that had become a shroud around me.

"Shut up," I groaned into the fabric, my voice muffled but not enough to drown out the mortification of my actions.

"And you're saying you liked it," Travis continued, his disbelief hanging in the room like a heavy fog, a fog I desperately wished would carry me away from this situation.

I was an idiot. There was no denying it. Stupid, because I couldn't help but like it. His lips were on mine, the brief, stolen moment that left an indelible mark on my senses. Damn right, I enjoyed it. And damn right, I wanted more.

His words lingered in my mind, the revelation of his past, the family he'd found, the involuntary separation. It all played like a haunting melody in my head. I wanted to believe it—that everything he'd told me was true, that he had come back for me, that he'd always wanted me.

My heart was foolish, still yearning for him despite the pain he had caused. I knew I was never a strong woman; emotions could sway me easily. Feelings don't die easily and as much as I hate to admit it, I loved him once.

The echoes of his laughter, the warmth of his touch, and the shared moments that once defined "us" haunted my thoughts. Despite the heartbreak, my heart clung to the remnants of a love that had long lost its way.

"What should I do?" I asked, my face still heated with shame as I looked at Travis. The room seemed to close in around me, a stifling cocoon of indecision.

"You're the one who needs to make the choice," he sighed. I hated this, hated being forced to decide between sanity and the intoxicating chaos of my heart's desires.

The sane part of me—the part that clung to logic and reason—screamed at me to leave him. To walk away from the turmoil, to escape the inevitable heartache that seemed to lurk in the shadows of his presence.

But my heart, oh, my traitorous heart, yearned for him. It craved the warmth of his touch, the electricity of his kiss, the promise of something more.

Travis watched me, his gaze a mix of understanding and frustration. "What should you do?" he echoed, the question hanging in the air like an unresolved chord.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely audible against the fabric of the pillow. The vulnerability in that admission left me exposed, raw.

"Well, this is just peachy. I always wanted to add 'kissed someone who magically reappeared after years' to my life achievements," I quipped.

Travis cracked a small smile, a momentary break in the tension. "You have a way with words."

"Yeah, it's called deflecting my emotional turmoil with humor," I shot back, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Very effective, 10 out of 10 would recommend."

Travis chuckled, the sound a brief reprieve. "So, what's the plan, oh master of deflection?"

I sighed dramatically. "The plan? The plan is to figure out how to un-kiss someone. You got any ideas?"

Travis raised an eyebrow, his amusement was evident. "Un-kiss? Not in my arsenal of skills, sorry."

"Great. Guess I'll have to live with the shame then," I replied, distressed.

Travis chuckled at my words, his laughter a comforting backdrop to the swirling uncertainty in my mind. Truth be told—Travis couldn't cook to save his life, and tonight, I was too lazy to attempt anything beyond the simplicity of processed comfort food, so boxed mac and cheese it was.

"Do you want me to drop you home?" he asked, his offer genuine. I shook my head, declining the offer. "Not my first day in the city," I added with a nonchalant shrug.

Packing my bag—I prepared to leave, feeling the weight of the evening's events settling in. The city at night was a different beast, its alleys casting long shadows that seemed to dance to the rhythm of my unease. Yet, I convinced myself it was just paranoia.

"I'll walk," I announced, mustering a casual tone to mask the undercurrent of tension. It was just a twenty-minute walk to my apartment, I reassured myself.

Nothing to worry about.

As I stepped out into the crisp night air, the glow of streetlights flickering above, a sense of vulnerability crept in. Each step echoed like a muted drumbeat, the rhythm of my anxiety playing in sync.

The quiet streets stretched ahead, the occasional passing car casting fleeting shadows that made my imagination run wild.

I quickened my pace, the rhythmic tap of my shoes on the pavement creating a staccato symphony of unease.

As I continued, the feeling of being watched intensified. Every alley became a potential hiding spot for unseen eyes, and every distant sound echoed with ominous possibilities. I kept turning back, looking over my shoulder, my senses heightened with each unnerving step.

Couldn't you have picked a more convenient time to unleash your 'someone's-watching-you' act? I was planning on binge-watching sitcoms tonight, not starring in a low-budget horror film.

The streetlight above flickered, casting a momentary darkness that sent a shiver down my spine. Oh, fantastic. Now even the streetlights are in on it. Must be a city-wide conspiracy against my peaceful stroll home.

The occasional gust of wind carried an eerie whisper, and I rolled my eyes at my jittery nerves. Way to go, survival instincts. Nothing like a healthy dose of paranoia to keep the adrenaline pumping.

Turning a corner, I glimpsed my apartment building in the distance, its familiar façade a beacon of safety. If I make it through tonight without a heart attack, I'll consider it a success.

As I entered the parking lot of my building, I swear I heard a footstep behind me. Jerking, I turned back, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back around, trying to dismiss the unease that crawled up my spine. It was probably just my imagination, I reassured myself. Late-night paranoia mixed with a dash of thrill from the earlier events.

But then I saw them—blue eyes, piercing and cold, looking straight at me.

I felt a pinch on my neck, sharp and sudden as if reality itself were betraying me. My hand instinctively went to the spot, fingers brushing against something foreign.

The world went dark.

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