One Temptation

Filling in The Gaps (Chapter 8)

"So, let's take it all the way to dinner..." I started, and Lia and Em eagerly nodded, hanging on to every word.

"Basically, it started off normal, but then—" I was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and West walked in, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

West rarely ever looked sad, and definitely not this upset.

"Did the guys leave?" he said.

Lia, answered for us. "Yeah, they left like 10 minutes ago."

I crossed my arms, fighting the urge to ask him why. I didn't care, or at least I kept telling myself I didn't. But curiosity gnawed at me. Why was he here, all sad and mopey?

And then, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Are you leaving?"

West looked genuinely surprised that I asked him, blinking at me for a second. "Umm, no, I'll be here to entertain you for a while longer." he rolled his eyes as he sat down.

Still, Em, ever the concerned one, asked, "Why? Is something wrong?"

At least someone cared.

"Nothing," West muttered, shaking his head like he was trying to brush it off.

Lia glanced at him, then at me. "Do you want us to go upstairs?" she asked carefully, tiptoeing around his mood.

"Yeah, sure," West shrugged, clearly not caring enough.

As we started to get up, I realized something—my room was still trashed from earlier. I groaned, annoyed at the thought of going back to that mess.

"We can't go upstairs," I whined, crossing my arms.

Lia raised a brow. "Why not?"

"My room's a disaster, thanks to someone," I said, shooting West a pointed glare. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty, instead, he smirked. 

Lia and Em exchanged glances, "We'll help you clean, and besides, we have some things to talk about anyway," Em said with a hesitant smile, trying to keep things light.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, let's go," I grumbled, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as we made our way to the stairs.

Before I could walk out, I turned back to West. "And you," I started, pointing a finger at him, "don't break anything."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back lazily on the couch, his white t-shirt straining against his muscles. "And what if I do?" he shot back.

He was slouched on the couch, his wavy hair was flatter than usual, probably from running his hands through it too much, and his blue eyes had lost their sharpness.

That shirt wasn't hiding much—his abs were faintly visible through the fabric. And those grey sweatpants... not helping.

I cringed. This is West. The guy who drives me crazy. Drooling over him? Not an option. I needed to stop analysing every inch of him like some lovesick idiot.

Why does he have to look so good, even when he's being a pain?

"Mads, why are we eye-fucking?" West smirked.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, trying desperately not to let him see me blushing. I took a deep breath, refusing to stutter and make this even worse.

"I'm not eye-fucking you," I said as calmly as possible, keeping my voice steady.

"Sure you weren't," he teased, throwing his head back while still maintaining eye contact, his smirk deepening.