𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Twenty-Two

Isabella

Two days had passed since my dad's call, and I was still speechless about the whole incident. I never expected something like that to happen, and it had left me feeling unsettled and uneasy. I kept replaying the conversation in my mind, trying to make sense of it all, but it just didn't seem real.

I thought about talking to Emily about it, but I didn't want to worry her. She had enough on her plate already, and I didn't want to add to her stress. So, for now, I would keep it to myself and try to process everything on my own.

Despite everything, life went on. I still had classes to attend, assignments to complete, and a future to plan.

I groaned softly as I reluctantly rose from my bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. It had been days since I last heard from him, since that awkward and embarrassing night when we were caught in the middle of something intimate. He hadn't sent any messages, no calls, nothing at all. Perhaps he was done with me; I started to tear up at the thought. I couldn't believe I fell for someone like him, someone whose name I didn't even know, whose age was a mystery. My stupid, naive heart.

With a heavy heart, I made my way to the bathroom, my thoughts consumed by him. After splashing some water on my face and trying to pull myself together, I headed back to my bedroom, feeling a mix of disappointment and resignation.

As I entered my room, something caught my eye: a slight movement by the window. My heart skipped a beat as I cautiously approached, fear mingling with hope. And there he was, leaning against the window frame, looking as mysterious and captivating as ever.

Thank god.

Relief flooded through me, washing away the doubts and insecurities that had plagued me moments before. I rushed towards him, unable to contain my emotions any longer. "Hi," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, slowly, he stepped into the room, his gaze never leaving mine. I could see the intensity in his eyes, the raw emotions that mirrored my own.

He gestured for me to sit on the edge of my bed, his expression unreadable. I couldn't help but feel a surge of confusion and apprehension. What was he planning? Was he going to berate me, criticize me for what happened? Or was he going to take advantage of the situation, use it as an opportunity for something more intimate? With him, I honestly didn't know anymore. He was unpredictable, his moods shifting like the tide. One moment he was warm and affectionate, the next he was cold and distant. He was bipolar, and trying to navigate his emotions was like walking on eggshells.

I tentatively sat down, my eyes never leaving his face. He moved closer, standing in front of me, his gaze intense. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. He reached out, his hand gently lifting my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to decipher a hidden message.

"I need to shower first," I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

He looked at me, confusion flickering across his face for a moment. Then, surprisingly, he nodded, as if in approval. I exhaled slowly, relieved that he seemed to understand. Without another word, I quickly made my way to the bathroom, desperate for a moment alone to gather my thoughts.

As the warm water cascaded over me, I tried to calm my racing heart. What was I thinking, letting things escalate like that? I needed to be more careful, more cautious. I couldn't let myself get swept away by his charm, his unpredictability.

After what felt like an eternity, I finished my shower and stepped out, feeling refreshed and slightly more composed. I wrapped a towel around myself and headed back to my room, steeling myself for what I was about to do.