Kiss me. Burn me.

Tangled Hearts.

《CHAPTER 2》

When I pull Dylan into that kiss, I’m not thinking about consequences. He kisses me back—almost too easily—and for a moment, it feels like we’re escaping everything: my father’s glare, the suffocating weight of my mother’s silence, the entire web of expectations that keeps me tangled. But I don’t think about the fact that Dylan came here with his parents.

The moment we pull away, the door swings open, and there they are, standing in shock.

Both our parents freeze, their eyes wide, and for a long, unbearable second, no one speaks. My heart races, and the blood drains from my face. This is going to be bad. Really bad. The silence in the room is suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity. Then we’re quickly ushered to my room while they gather their thoughts.

I can’t even think of what to say anymore. Lying feels like the only way out, but it’s getting harder every day. Telling the truth? That would ruin me.

I pace back and forth, unable to calm my thoughts. My stomach churns, anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind. I can’t let this spiral out of control. The lies have built up so much already—another one would only complicate things further. But the truth? That would destroy everything. My father would have every reason to cast me aside, to abandon me completely. I can’t let that happen.

“Ava, are you ever going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Dylan’s voice cuts through the silence, his eyes following me as I continue to walk in circles.

I stop and look at him, feeling the weight of his words. The frustration in his gaze is clear, mixed with a hint of concern. He’s trying to understand, but I don’t even understand it myself.

“I was on another date tonight. You probably saw the blogs.” My voice is barely steady as I speak.

“Yeah, I saw,” Dylan says, his tone softening. He reaches for my hand, stopping me from pacing. “So, who was it this time?”

“Chris Montague,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t meet his eyes, but I can feel his gaze, searching for something in the truth I'm offering him.

I can’t bring myself to look at Dylan after what just happened. The words stick in my throat, every excuse I might give feeling flimsy and inadequate. Instead, I tell him the truth.

“Montague Empire?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t even know he was back in town. Should I call him up? Invite him out for a drink?”

“He’s at our university now,” I say, sinking onto the edge of my bed. “He was doing online classes but switched to full-time. His dad’s pushing my father to invest in their company, and I’m the pawn in their little business deal.”

Dylan’s face tightens, and he doesn’t say anything at first. Then, with a small frown, he murmurs, “I still don’t understand how we ended up kissing.”

I swallow hard, my fingers twisting together in my lap. “I walked in to tell my dad I was done with these stupid blind dates. I was angry, ready to stand up for myself… but when he asked, I panicked. I lied and said I had a boyfriend. And then you walked in, so I kissed you.” My voice shakes as the confession tumbles out.

Dylan’s expression is unreadable, and I hate not knowing what he’s thinking. He takes a step back, his arms crossing over his chest, and his silence is worse than any reaction he could have given me.

I can’t tell him the full truth, though. Not about Hunter. Dylan wouldn’t understand. Hunter doesn’t belong to this world. He isn’t from an elite family or wealthy. He doesn’t fit. And my father would never accept him. Hunter’s a scholarship student, working long hours to support his sister, and studying biochemistry to become the first in his family to graduate. He’s everything my father despises.

“So, what happens now?” Dylan asks, his voice soft, though there’s still an edge of disbelief.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, staring at the floor. The uncertainty in my words matches the chaos in my mind.

Before I can say more, the door creaks open. The butler stands there, expression neutral as he beckons us downstairs. The heavy weight pressing on my chest only deepens.

I follow Dylan silently, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. When we enter the living room, both sets of parents are seated, too calm for comfort. Glasses of whisky sit untouched on the table between them, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Berry,” I say quietly, unsure how else to break the awkward silence.

Mrs. Berry offers me a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She turns her attention back to her husband as Dylan and I are directed to sit across from them.

“Your mother will be here shortly,” my father says, his tone clipped and cold. “We’ve discussed your relationship.”

Before I can ask what that means, the door opens again, and my mother enters. Her dress flows elegantly as she moves with her signature grace. But her sharp gaze lands on me, and I know I’m in trouble.

“Well, well,” she says, her voice icy, “what do we have here?”

“We’re only disappointed you both couldn’t tell us about your relationship sooner,” my father says, his tone startlingly warm. “But this could work out for the best. It strengthens everything we’ve built. The public will envy your wedding.”

Wedding? My chest tightens, my heart pounding so hard it might burst.

“Dylan, you had that scandal a few weeks ago,” Mr. Berry adds matter-of-factly, “so we can’t announce this just yet. We’ll arrange a photo op in a couple of weeks. A few pictures of you two leaving a restaurant, then an interview. The public will love it.”

I feel like I’m falling into a void as I listen to them plan out our fake relationship like it’s a business merger. None of this is about love or even us. It’s about them. About appearances.

The conversation drifts on, but I tune it out. My mind races, scrambling for a way out. I can’t do this. Not again. But the guilt of lying to Hunter weighs heavier and heavier on my chest. I need a plan, and I need one fast.

At 1 a.m., my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen, and relief washes over me when I see his name.

Hunter.

“Hey, baby, I’m waiting for you at our spot. Let’s go eat,” his text reads.

I don’t hesitate. I grab a hoodie, pull it over my pyjamas, and slip out of the house.

When I see him, leaning against the wall in the parking lot, his face lights up, and suddenly, I can breathe again. Hunter is my escape, my refuge from the chaos of everything else.

I run to him, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me close like he always does. For the first time tonight, I feel safe.

“I missed you,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest.

“I missed you too, my love,” Hunter murmurs, cupping my face and brushing away tears I didn’t realize I was holding back.

For a while, we just stand there, holding on to each other, letting the night wrap around us like a shield from the rest of the world. But deep down, I know this can’t last forever. I can’t keep lying—not to him, not to myself.

And yet, for now, I let myself stay in the moment. Because with Hunter, at least for a little while, everything feels okay.