𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟖

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LIZZIE
ROSEWOOD
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The night was a blur of music, lights, and faces hidden behind masks, all swirling around me in a haze. It was my eighteenth birthday, and Astor and Anastasia had thrown a party to end all parties. The theme was dark and decadent, a masquerade twisted with the chill of Halloween. It was perfect—the heavy, bold makeup and intricate mask I wore left me unrecognizable, a stranger even to myself.

People handed me gifts, laughter echoed around me, and I found myself dancing, lost in the thrill of the night. But eventually, the crowded room grew stifling, and I slipped away, tipsy and breathless, stumbling into a shadowy corridor. That's when I saw him.

A tall figure stood in the hallway, cloaked in shadows, wearing a ghost-face mask that hid his features completely. His broad shoulders filled the space, his dark, messy hair falling just below the edges of his mask. He tilted his head toward me, and I felt an electric pull that defied logic. I didn't know him, or maybe I did. There was something familiar about the way he moved, the confidence in his stance, as if he were daring me to come closer.

He was familiar. I swore it.

Before I knew it, his hands were on me, his fingers gripping my waist as he pressed me back against the cold bathroom wall. The music was faint now, just a thudding bass line outside the closed door. His lips found mine with a rough urgency, stealing my breath as he kissed me hard, possessive. My heart raced as his hand slid up my thigh, lifting the hem of my leather skirt. I couldn't think; I didn't want to. My body reacted to him, a stranger and yet someone who felt so familiar. I moaned, tilting my head to let him kiss my neck, and his low growl against my skin only made me want him more.

"You're addicting, fuck, I wanna see you."Then he pulled back, just enough for his gaze to roam over me. He reached up and tore my mask off in one swift movement, eyes widening slightly as he looked at my face, my bare, vulnerable self. His grip on my waist tightened, and then, in a voice rough with a mix of surprise and something darker, he murmured, "Lizzie..."

It felt like the room dropped ten degrees, and suddenly, I knew who he was. I stared back at him, my chest heaving, my body still pinned against the wall. "Ryke..." My voice was barely a whisper. I could feel his heart beating as wildly as mine beneath his grip, his breathing ragged.

"What the hell did we just do?" he asked, voice rough as he tore his mask off, revealing his face fully for the first time tonight. His expression was a mixture of shock and intensity, his dark eyes blazing as they bore into mine.

"I... I don't know," I stammered, feeling my cheeks flush. Shame crept in, but his hold on me didn't lessen. We were tangled in this now, and the way he looked at me made it hard to remember why I should be pulling away.

Oh, my God. Ryke should never see me like this. So desperate and eager. No. No. No.

"You knew who I was, didn't you?" he asked, his fingers tightening slightly on my waist, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes.

"No," I said, voice barely a whisper, but even I wasn't sure if I believed it. "Not until now..."

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my neck. "So what happens now, Lizzie? Going to run away? Pretend you never wanted this?" His voice was dangerously soft, each word laced with a dark challenge. "Because you're still not over Aiden?"

I swallowed, feeling trapped between the thrill of him and the weight of the consequences. "We shouldn't have done this, Ryke. Aiden—"

"Forget Aiden," he interrupted, his voice sharp, almost desperate. "Right now, it's just you and me. No one else. Aiden is an asshole who found you replacabble."

I wanted to deny him, to tell him he was wrong, that I could walk away. But as his hands moved down my sides, as his fingers trailed over my skin, I couldn't stop myself from leaning into his touch.

My pulse quickened, his words sinking deep, each one weighted with years of silent longing and a bitterness he hadn't even tried to hide. The dark, heated glint in his eyes told me he meant every word.

"Ryke..." I whispered, struggling against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over me. There was no going back from this; we both knew it. He looked at me with an intensity that made my breath hitch, his hand cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness, a contrast to the raw edge in his voice.

"For once," he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine, "don't play it safe. Don't run to the person who only sees you when it's convenient. You know I'd never do that to you. You know it, you know I always wanted you yet you picked Aiden. For once, pick the one who wants you."

I searched his eyes, every part of me screaming that this was wrong, but the quiet, vulnerable way he looked at me broke through my defenses. All the memories of Aiden, of being second place in his life, clawed to the surface. And yet, here was Ryke, standing in front of me, unguarded, giving me the choice he'd held back for so long.

He wanted me.

I felt his fingers tighten at my waist, pulling me closer until I was pressed against him, his heartbeat pounding against mine. His hand slid up, cupping the back of my neck as he leaned in, his breath mingling with mine. "I'm right here, Lizzie," he whispered, the words lingering between us. "No masks, no games."

I should have lied, should have told him I felt nothing. But when I looked up at him, his face inches from mine, his breath mingling with my own, I couldn't. I was silent, and he knew what that meant.

"Ryke, let's just pretend this never happened. I can't risk losing you as a friend."

Ryke's eyes darkened, the warmth fading from them as he set me down. His grip lingered on my waist for a moment, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to let go. But the hurt was already pooling in his gaze, cutting deeper than I'd intended.

"Pretend?" he echoed, his voice a low murmur that held an edge of disbelief. "After everything, you want to pretend? I'm tired of the secret glances and stares in class, tired of all these years I waited."

I forced myself to hold his stare, though each second felt like it chipped away at something inside me. "I don't want to lose you, Ryke. I can't afford to mess this up. You... you're too important."

All girls want him. He can have them, I'm not good for him.

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, turning away from me as though the distance could mask the bitterness in his expression. "Right. 'Important.' Funny how that only means something when it's convenient, huh?"

The sting in his words left me silent, guilt prickling beneath my skin. I watched as he took a step back, his eyes lingering on mine one last time, the same unspoken hurt hanging heavy between us.

"You know, I've always been here," he said quietly, his voice strained. "Waiting for you to see me. Guess I'm just the asshole who thought you finally did."

I reached out, my voice barely a whisper. "Ryke, please—"

But he was already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the night without a second glance, leaving me standing alone, the taste of regret heavy in the air.

𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 18+Where stories live. Discover now