OUT OF CONTROL (18+)

4 || Curiosity

I was heading back to my room after that painfully awkward dinner with Aunt Sheila and Sourabh, my ex-best friend who now acted like I was nothing more than a ghost from his past. That guy couldn't stop glaring at me, his eyes burning holes into my skull like he was trying to figure out why I was even there. It's like he completely erased me from his memory—like I was just some kid he used to know but didn't give a shit about anymore.

But I remembered. I remembered the chubby little kid who used to follow me around like a lost puppy, the one who'd get scared at the smallest things. Now, he was all grown up, and damn if puberty didn't smack him right in the face. He wasn't just easy on the eyes; he was a full-on eye candy with a side of 'I've been through some shit.' Physically, the guy was a beast compared to what he used to be. But emotionally? He was a fucking mess—a complete 180 from what I remembered.

And that whole thing earlier? When he barged into my room? Yeah, for a hot second, I thought maybe he was there to patch things up, to be the Sourabh I used to know. But nope. Of course, I was just being a dumbass. He was just there to mock my stupid SpongeBob towel. Fucking prick.

I was about to walk into my room, trying to shake off the weird vibes, when I heard something from the door at the end of the hall. Curiosity got the best of me—like it always fucking does. So, instead of minding my business, I crept across the carpeted floor, my bare feet barely making a sound as I moved closer to his door.

I pressed my ear against it, hoping to catch something—a conversation, a clue—but all I heard was this low groaning. It was stupid, but my mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. What if he was hurt? What if something was wrong?

I knocked softly, but there was no reply. Just more groaning. I bit my lip, hesitating for a second, but then my hand was on the door, pushing it open. It wasn't even locked.

And then, fuck me sideways, I saw it.

"Sourabh, what the fuck are you doing?" I gasped, eyes wide as I took in the scene.

He was sprawled out on his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, jerking off like it was the most normal thing in the world. For a split second, I thought I was imagining things, but nope—this was real. Way too real. He moved fast, yanking the blanket over himself, but it was too late. The image was seared into my brain, and no amount of head-shaking was going to erase it.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ariha! Get the fuck out!" he snapped, his voice low and dangerous, like he was on the edge of losing his shit completely. He tossed his phone aside like it was burning him, and all I could do was stand there, frozen, my eyes still glued to his face.

"I knocked!" I shot back, my voice shaky but defiant. "You didn't answer."

"And that's your cue to leave, dumbass! Why the fuck are you still here?" He glared at me, his face twisted in anger and humiliation. I knew he was pissed, and every instinct in me was screaming to back off, to not push him any further. But I couldn't help it. The words just slipped out before I could stop them.

"I'll tell Aunt Sheila." It was a lame threat, but it was all I had. I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, he was on me.

He moved like a goddamn predator, his body crashing into mine as he pinned me against the wall. His hands were on my waist, his breath hot on my face. He was still naked, and I tried—really tried—not to look down, but my eyes betrayed me. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of him, and fuck, it was hard not to stare.

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes bore into mine. He wasn't fucking around. This wasn't the Sourabh I knew—this was someone else entirely. Someone dangerous.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper as I managed to choke out, "And what if I do?"

He smirked, a slow, wicked grin that sent chills down my spine. "Then you'd better be ready to deal with the consequences, RR."

There it was again. That damn nickname he used to call me. Only this time, it wasn't playful or sweet. It was a threat—a warning. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he pressed closer, his breath ghosting over my lips.

I knew I should've been scared—terrified, even. But all I felt was this fucked-up mix of fear and excitement, like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. He leaned in, his lips just inches from mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he didn't. He just stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable, before he finally let go, stepping back.

"Get out," he said, his voice cold and final. "And don't ever fucking try that again."

I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted out of his room, my heart still racing as I slammed the door behind me. I leaned against it, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I tried to make sense of what just happened.

I should've been angry. I should've been mortified. But all I could think about was the way he looked at me—the way he touched me. The way he made me feel.

Fuck, I was in deep trouble.

And the worst part? I didn't know if I wanted to get out.

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