Bloodtide

Part 45

As we lay in bed together, the night was eerily quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of his breathing as my head rested against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was strangely comforting, a contrast to the chaotic emotions swirling inside me.

John's fingers tapped lightly against my back, a small, almost absent-minded gesture as we both processed what had just happened. I wanted to feel ashamed, to regret giving in to someone I had once considered my enemy, but instead, I felt something completely different. Everything had felt right, so good, and that realization terrified me.

"You are a beast," he smirked, breaking the silence. His voice had a teasing edge, but there was something softer beneath it, a warmth I hadn't expected.

I lifted my head to stare at him, searching his eyes for any sign of the cruelty I had always associated with him. Instead, I found something that made my heart race for a different reason entirely. "That was my first time," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

John's expression shifted from smug amusement to shock, his eyes widening as he processed what I had just said. "What?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost uncertain. "You're serious?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way I hadn't before. But the truth was out now, and there was no taking it back.

He stared at me for a long moment, his shock giving way to something else—something intense and unreadable. "Ella, I didn't even realize... I—" He paused, seeming at a loss for words, which was rare for him. His hand moved to cup my face, his thumb brushing gently over my cheek. "I wouldn't have... I would've been more careful if I'd known."

His concern, so genuine and unexpected, sent a shiver down my spine. The John I knew was brash, arrogant, always quick with a sharp retort or a mocking grin. But this John, the one holding me like I was something precious, was different. And it was unsettling how much I liked it.

"I didn't want careful," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "I wanted... I wanted you."

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and charged with a new kind of intensity. John's eyes darkened, but this time it wasn't with lust. There was something deeper there, something that mirrored the confusion and fear I was feeling.

"Fuck," he murmured, his hand slipping down to rest over my heart. "You should have told me." His voice carried a hint of frustration, his gaze searching mine, as if trying to understand the shift between us.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding beneath his palm. "I didn't see it as important," I whispered, refusing to look away. I wasn't going to let him see just how much this was affecting me.

John's eyes narrowed slightly, the usual smugness fading as he processed my words. His thumb traced absent patterns on my skin, a gesture that felt both intimate and strange. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low, as if the question wasn't meant to be so heavy.

I almost flinched at the question, my mind racing to find a response that wouldn't give away too much. "I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound casual, though the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. "Why? Are you expecting me to be all weepy or something?"

His lips quirked into a smirk, but it lacked the usual bite. "Weepy? No, that's not really your style, is it?" He paused, his gaze searching mine for any crack in my facade. "I'm just... surprised, that's all."

I raised an eyebrow, a hint of defiance creeping into my tone. "Surprised you didn't notice?"

"Yeah," he admitted, the smirk fading completely. "I guess I am."

Silence stretched between us, neither of us willing to break it. His hand still rested over my heart, the weight of it grounding me in a way I wasn't sure I liked. This was unfamiliar territory, and I wasn't sure how to navigate it—or if I even wanted to.

John's fingers flexed slightly, as if he was debating something. "You really didn't think it was important?" he asked, his voice softer now, more neutral.

"Why would it be?" I shot back, my defenses rising instinctively. "This doesn't change anything."

"Right," he said, his tone careful, as if testing the waters. "It doesn't change anything."

We both knew that was a lie, but neither of us was willing to acknowledge it. The tension that had always defined our interactions was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was laced with something new—something neither of us wanted to name.

"Good," I replied, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn't feel. "Then we're on the same page."

John's eyes held mine for a long moment, and I could see the guardedness in his expression, the same wariness I felt tightening in my chest. We were still enemies, still locked in this dance of push and pull, but there was an edge to it now that hadn't been there before.

"Yeah," he finally said, his voice low and unreadable. "Same page."

He slowly removed his hand from my chest, the loss of contact leaving me feeling unexpectedly cold. We were back to our usual dynamic—cautious, guarded, with no room for vulnerability.

I shifted away from him, pulling the covers up around me as I settled back into my side of the bed. We were silent, the distance between us both physical and emotional. Whatever had just happened, we both silently agreed not to dwell on it. There was no room for softness, not in the strange world we had built together.

But even as I closed my eyes, I couldn't ignore the way my heart still raced, or the unfamiliar feeling of John's presence beside me. We might have kept our guard up, but something had shifted, even if neither of us was willing to admit it yet. The tension that had always simmered between us was still there, only now, it was tinged with an awareness that neither of us could ignore.

And that awareness, whether we liked it or not, was bound to change everything.