Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 9

I paced the dining room floor, my frustration simmering, barely contained. It was either pace like a caged animal or hurl the dinner plates at the wall. The former felt like the safer option for now at least, but I won't object to throwing plates at the wall if I do not hear from him shortly.

How could my mother barge in here just to start another ridiculous argument? And where the hell was Dylan? At a bar, of course, instead of staying to resolve things with me. The nerve of him. And yet, even with all this chaos, Beth still haunted my thoughts. How could I stop thinking about her when she seemed to invade every corner of my mind? Dylan warned me to stay away, but how could I, when the pull was so strong?

I looked down at my phone, still gripped tightly in my hand. It was a wonder I hadn't crushed it with how much my fists itched to clench. Glancing down, I note that there was still no reply from Dylan; nor any signs that he'd even bothered to read my message. Time dragged on, and exhaustion began creeping back in. With a sigh, I dialed his number, pressing the phone to my ear. Instead of the ringing tone that I was anticipating, the robotic voice of his voicemail cut through the deathly silence of the house.

"For fuck's sake!" I screamed, my teeth clenched as I hurled the phone onto the bench. Why was I stuck here, pacing like a madwoman, while he was out drinking and being reckless? Why did he get to escape to a bar, while I was trapped in this pit of self-pity?

I stared at the phone, the temptation gnawing at me. I bit down on my fingernail, anxiety bubbling up as my mind ran through every possible outcome - all of them bad. Except one. One outcome that would satisfy me, even if it came with its own repercussions.

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and picked up the phone. My pace had slowed, my steps heavy with anticipation. I knew this was a bad idea, but I couldn't resist. Dylan had made it crystal clear: stay away from Beth, or there would be consequences. But some temptations were too hard to ignore; She was the forbidden fruit, and I was desperate for a taste.

I dialed her number. The phone barely had time to ring before she answered.

"Hey Camden," her voice was huskier than usual, sleep clinging to its edges. "Why are you calling so late? Are you okay?"

"Hey, Beth," I stammered. I hadn't expected her to pick up so quickly. I had rehearsed the consequences of calling her, not the conversation itself. "What are you up to?"

"Just relaxing," she said, her voice warm but insistent. "You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?"

I swallowed, feeling the words get stuck in my throat. "Dylan and I... had an argument. He stormed out."

Silence settled between us for a moment. I hated that I'd confessed to her, hated that I sounded so vulnerable. "I guess I just wanted some company," I added, my voice barely above a whisper. Too honest? Probably.

God, I need to stop overthinking everything. Anxiety turns me into such a mess.

Beth's pause was longer this time, the quiet stretching between us, thick and heavy. Finally, she broke it. "Are you at home?"

"Yes," I answered, my voice small.

"Stay there. I'm coming to get you," she said, and the line went dead before I could reply.

A flood of emotions crashed over me - guilt, excitement, fear. I rushed upstairs, catching a glimpse of my tear-streaked face in the mirror. The puffy eyes and smeared mascara made me cringe. I didn't want to look like I was making too much of an effort, but I also didn't want to look like this. A quick brush through my hair, a dab of makeup, and before I knew it, she was outside.

I bolted downstairs, sliding on my white sneakers, and stepped out the door. My breath caught when I saw her. I'd expected her motorbike, but instead, she was leaning casually against a sleek black car. The entire thing gleamed under the streetlights, from the tinted windows to the polished rims. It looked pristine, like it had just rolled off a showroom floor.

"Where's your bike?" I asked, surprised.

Beth smirked, pushing off the car. "I was going to bring it, but you sounded so sad and helpless on the phone, I figured I'd be nice for once." Her smug grin made me roll my eyes, but I couldn't deny that part of me enjoyed her cocky comments.

She opened the door for me, her smile widening. "Get in."

I couldn't help but smile back as I slid into the passenger seat. "Where are you taking me?" I asked, even though I knew better than to expect an answer.

"It's a surprise," she said, her voice full of amusement as she closed the door behind me.

"Why are you so obsessed with surprises?" I whined, hating the suspense.

"Because it doesn't give you the chance to say no," she replied, catching me off guard with her honesty. "It lets me show you the world through my eyes, not yours."

I didn't respond, just crossed my arms like the petulant child my mother had accused me of being earlier. I stared out the window, trying to guess where she was taking me, but there were no clues to be found.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her smile, her lips curling into a soft laugh. "What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," she said at first, but then she changed her mind. "Just you. How much you hate surprises. We're almost there, anyway. Just around the corner."

I noticed her hand twitch, reaching toward me before she quickly retracted it, as though she'd been aiming for the gear stick instead of my thigh.

Maybe my feelings weren't as one-sided as I thought.