Ethan's POV
As I sat amidst the sea of students at the back of the auditorium, my gaze involuntarily drifted towards her. I tried to resist, to tear my eyes away, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. I stole a glance, and my heart skipped a beat. She was seated at the front, her raven tresses tied up in a loose ponytail, revealing the gentle curve of her neck. Her eyes were fixed intently on the script in her hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. I felt my pulse quicken, my thoughts betraying me. Stop it, Ethan. Control yourself. I forced my attention back to the group of students surrounding me, but my mind continued to wander.
Minutes ticked by, and she stood up, her movements fluid and graceful. Her gaze swept across the room, her eyes flashing with frustration. I watched, transfixed, as she exited the auditorium. And then, he stood up – a towering figure clad in a black hoodie, his eyes fixed intently on the door through which she had disappeared. A sly grin spread across his face, sending a shiver down my spine. Was he following her?
A sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach as I watched him leave. What was his motive? Why was he tailing her? Ethan, it's none of your business. Let it go. But my mind refused to listen, my thoughts spiraling into a vortex of wild imagination. My body felt restless, my senses on high alert.
"Guys, I'll be right back," I muttered, standing up abruptly. I wandered the deserted hallways, searching for the room she had entered. My heart raced with anticipation, my mind conjuring up worst-case scenarios. Finally, I found a door slightly ajar, and I hesitated, wondering if I should intrude. But my concern for her safety propelled me forward. I pushed the door open, my eyes scanning the room.
And then, I saw her. She was pinned to the chair, the black-hoodied figure looming over her, his hands caging her in. Her eyes were wide with fear, her body trembling like a leaf. Tears welled up in her eyes as she pleaded, "Please, what do you want from me? Please don't hurt me."
My heart raced, my instincts screaming at me to act. "Get away from her," I growled, striding towards them. The figure turned, his eyes flashing with anger. "This ain't your business, Ethan. Walk away, mind your own business."
"Hey bro, I think you're sorely mistaken," I sneered, my voice dripping with disdain. "You're the one who needs to get the hell out of here, pronto." I added, my eyes flashing with a warning.
The black-hoodied figure snarled, his lips curling into a snide smile. "And what if I don't, huh? Look, Ethan Blackwood, people may be fawning all over you, but I don't give a flying fig about your precious reputation." He spat, his words laced with venom.
I grabbed him by the collar, my grip tightening like a vice, which made him quiver. "Bro, scram, or face the music," I growled, my playful threat laced with a hint of menace. "So get out of here NOW," I bellowed, my face inches from his.
He pushed me away with his hands on my chest, his eyes flashing with defiance. "What would you do, huh?" He sneered, but I could see the fear lurking behind his eyes.
I couldn't keep my cool anymore. My fist connected with his face, sending him crashing to the floor. Emma's anguished cry pierced the air, "Ethan, stop! Please stop!" She begged, tears streaming down her face as she grasped my hand.
I was consumed by a primal urge to pummel him into oblivion, to break his bones, and make him beg for mercy. But Emma's tears were my undoing. I had never seen her cry before, and it shattered my resolve. I hugged her tightly, trying to comfort her. "You're fine now, he's gone," I whispered, patting her back.
Jacob, still reeling from the punch, scrambled to his feet and fled the room with a coward's haste. I held Emma close, trying to calm her sobs, my mind reeling with the intensity of the moment.
"Look at me, Emma," I whispered, my voice soft and soothing, as I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs tracing gentle circles on her cheeks. Her eyes, puffy and swollen from crying, slowly lifted to meet mine, and I felt a pang in my chest. The whites of her eyes were tinged with a faint pinkish hue, a testament to her tears. "He's gone now," I assured her, my words dripping with calm reassurance.
"He's...the...one," she stammered, her voice trembling like a leaf in an autumn breeze. I was taken aback, confusion etched on my face. What was she talking about? But I didn't press her for answers, not now, not when she was so fragile. I just wanted to calm her down, to stop her tears from flowing like a river.
"Everything will be fine," I murmured, my arms wrapping around her like a warm embrace, holding her close as I swayed gently from side to side. I felt her body relax, her sobs slowly subsiding, as she nestled into my chest. I breathed in the sweet scent of her hair, my heart still racing from the adrenaline of the fight, but my soul calming in her presence.
As I held her, I felt a sense of protectiveness wash over me, a fierce determination to keep her safe from harm. I stroked her hair, my fingers tangling in the silky strands, and whispered soft words of comfort, trying to erase the memory of her tears, of her fear. And as we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew that I would do anything to keep her safe, to make her happy.
As we hugged, the door creaked open, and a girl's face peeked into the room, her body hidden behind the door like a hesitant spectator. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.
Emma quickly separated herself from my hold, her movements swift and deliberate, like a bird taking flight. She turned away, her back to the girl, and hastily wiped away her tears, concealing her vulnerability. "No, you're not," she said, her voice firm, but laced with a hint of fragility.
Before I could speak, Emma gathered the scattered books from the floor, her hands moving with a quiet urgency. She turned to leave, her eyes fixed on the door, her expression a mask of composure. But I knew better. I knew she was hiding behind a façade of strength, her heart still reeling from the encounter with Jacob.
"I'm fine, we need to go," she said, her voice low and even, but I detected a hint of strain beneath the surface.
As we left the room, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to the story, something Emma wasn't telling me. The girl's interruption had been timely, but I sensed that Emma's secrets would eventually unravel, like threads pulled from a tapestry.
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