God of Temptation

Chapter 51

~Ariella~

"Siri, play the playlist 'Throwback Jukebox'," I command my speaker, and suddenly, the room is filled with the unmistakable beats of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." I sway to the rhythm as I piece together my wardrobe. Ah, Monday—the day that arrives with all the enthusiasm of a soggy sandwich. Waking up in the morning feels like wrestling a stubborn octopus, eating is a chaotic dance, and sleep? Well, it's become an elusive phantom.

Some nights, I barricade myself in my room, while other times, Evan drags me to campus parties where I observe people making delightful fools of themselves. The sunlight sneaks through my black curtains, casting a gray hue over the room. My first class looms just twenty minutes away, and I'm already counting down the seconds for the day to end already. This time, though, my trusty typewriter isn't here to absorb my emotional overflow.

A knock echoes through my dorm room. Who could be visiting at this ungodly hour? I slide the last piece of clothing into the wardrobe and stride to the door. With a dramatic flourish, I fling it open, and there, standing before me, is a face I never expected to see—at least not until the next semester ended.

Remi.

His smile is blinding, like a supernova. It hits me like a tidal wave, and suddenly, words fail me. I've missed this—missed him—beyond the capacity of mere words. His blue linen shirt, with a few buttons casually undone, and those white premium trousers? He looks downright edible.

"Hi, Jailbait," Remi greets me with a wave. His use of that nickname hits me like a tidal wave—I've missed it more than I care to admit. I take a deep breath, willing myself not to break down.

"What are you doing here, Remi?" I manage to ask, my voice surprisingly calm despite the tempest raging within me. My heart performs a strange dance, as if choreographed to Taylor Swift's "Lover."

Remi steps closer, invading the confines of my room. His fingers graze my face, brushing against my skin. "I came to see you, Jailbait," he murmurs, his voice a sweet melody that leaves me defenseless. All I want is for him to hold me, to keep me safe in this fragile moment. His brown eyes—those mesmerizing pools—feel like a soothing balm on my bruised soul.

The soul he bruised.

But then reality crashes back, a jarring interruption. Reflexively, I step away, severing his touch. Hurt flickers across his eyes, and my heart clenches with sadness.

"Remi," I say, my voice a fragile thread, "this is no excuse for you to come here." I turn away, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. The longer I look, the faster my resolve crumbles—like a sandcastle facing the relentless tide.

But Remi doesn't let me escape. He gently turns me back, his eyes locking onto mine. In their depths, I see my entire form reflected—the girl I used to be, the one who believed Remi could be mine and whispered secrets under moonlit skies. Those eyes, once my portal to cloud nine, still hold that magic.

"Ariella..." His voice is a delicate thread, tugging at the strings of my heart. "I know I did you wrong, and I probably don't deserve your forgiveness. But, Ariella, you make me want to be a better man. You make me want to be the person who deserves you. Because I can't see you with anyone else other than me. Know this, Ariella, there is no one who can understand you the way I do. And there is no one who could love me like you do."

My breath hitches. Remi's confession leaves me in a relentless storm of emotions, each wave crashing against my fragile resolve. I'm caught between the past and the present, between hurt and longing.

"Remi..." I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I—"

But my words falter. The chaos in my heart mirrors the chaos in this room, where memories and desire collide. What do I do next?

I am caught in the storm of Remi's words, I find myself suspended between longing and heartache. His touch, a finger on my lips, silences my protests, and his confession unravels my world.

"I have never done strings attached," Remi murmurs, his voice a fragile thread. "I don't yearn for things. In fact, I don't yearn for anyone." His eyes, dark pools of vulnerability, lock onto mine. "Yet, the only person who I have truly and utterly yearned for is you."

The room tilts, and I cling to the edge of reason. My heart, that stubborn organ, dances to its own rhythm. It remembers Remi—the taste of his laughter, the warmth of his skin—while my mind warns me not to tread this treacherous path again. But my body, oh, my body, betrays me. It leans toward him, craving the proximity that threatens to shatter my defenses.

"Ma chérie," Remi implores, his voice a prayer. "Give me a chance to prove myself. You've penetrated my being. Please tell me I'm not too late, tell me that those feelings haven't vanished yet. Give me a chance to redeem myself." His eyes glisten, unshed tears mirroring my own. "Give me a chance to love you back, to love you right."

And there, in the fragile space between us, I break. A sob escapes, raw and uncontrollable. How can I deny him? How can I rebuild the walls when they've crumbled at his touch?

My mind screams logic, but Remi's chaos reigns supreme. For the first time, I embrace it—the whirlwind of emotions, the storm that threatens to consume me. Perhaps, just perhaps, chaos is where love blooms, where longing finds its home. And so, I stand at the center, arms outstretched, ready to revel in this beautiful madness.

"Don't break my heart again, Remi. Because this time I won't be able to pick myself up." I'm granting him another chance, defying reason and caution. My heart, stubborn and insistent, yearns for Remi. Logic be damned; I want to be with him.

His hand traces the curve of my spine, fingers grazing the bare skin. Goosebumps erupt along my body, a symphony of longing and vulnerability. It's as if time folds, and we're suspended in a fragile bubble—a moment that defies logic and reason.

And in that suspended space, I wonder if maybe—just maybe—our bruised souls can find solace in each other once more.

"Never again." The words tumble from his lips brushing against my lips, a fragile promise.

But it's not a free pass. Forgiveness isn't a gift; it's a prize he must earn. Remi, if you want me, prove yourself. Show me that love can mend what it once shattered.

"Then prove it," I whisper against his lips, before taking our lips in a searing kiss.