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"You may resist, deny, or hate it, but you like it when I’m close. You like it when I touch you. You crave it but deny it. I don't know the reason, but don't worry, I'll find out. And you'll be in my arms, demanding that I kiss the fuck out of you," his words were daggers that scraped my heart. But was he wrong?
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After those words, he didn’t say anything. He just told me to get in the car, and we drove home in silence. The eerie quietness filled the car, and I kept glancing at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched, clearly pissed off. I knew it was because of me, but what could I do? It’s the only thing I can do.
We finally reached my house. He turned to face me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Good night, chubs. Dream of me, okay?” I sucked in a deep breath, my cheeks flushing. What is wrong with him? One moment he's angry, the next he's flirty.
“G-good night,” I muttered, swiftly getting out of the car. I wanted to get away from him as fast as possible. I closed the door and hurried inside, feeling his smirk lingering in the back of my mind.
I closed the door with a thud, leaning against it, breathing heavily.
“Aelda, sei tornata tesoro?” Mamma called out.
(Aelda, you're back, sweetheart?)
“Sì, mamma,” I answered, smiling.
(Yes, mamma.)
“Ok, adesso vai a dormire. Domani hai il college,” she reminded me, making me realize I had to face him again tomorrow.
(Ok, now go to sleep. You have college tomorrow.)
“Sì,” I said, trudging to my room.
(Yes.)
I turned on the lights and got into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the tension. After changing into something comfortable, I reached for my phone to check for notifications. There was a message from an unknown number.
“Still awake, chubs?”
It was him.
“How did you get my number?” I typed back, wondering how he managed to get it.
