My first crush (COMPLETED)√

Chapter 16

Stephen's voice carried a quiet confidence as he stepped inside.
"You know you can't tell me that."

I didn't respond immediately. I simply stared at him, folding my arms across my chest as if that thin barrier could shield me from whatever storm he'd brought with him.
What does he want now?

"So..." he glanced around the room, his eyes observant, curious. "Is anyone home?"

"No. I'm alone." My voice came out sharper than I intended. I quickly slid the bottle of alcohol behind me, but it was too late — his eyes had already caught the movement. "Stephen... please tell me what you're doing here."

He hummed softly, nodding as though piecing together a puzzle.
"Hmmm. I should be with you, bad girl."

I rolled my eyes, though my pulse betrayed me. "And that can't work. Don't keep your hopes up."

"So... this is still about Patricia?" His fingers dragged roughly through his hair, frustration evident in the tension of his jaw.

I looked away. The mere mention of her twisted something inside me. Patricia had made everything complicated — or maybe I had allowed it to become that way.

Yet despite my resolve, I found myself distracted, my gaze lingering on his face — the familiarity of it, the quiet intensity in his eyes. I hated how easily he unsettled me.

"Sharon? Hey!"
His fingers snapped in front of me.

I blinked, startled back into the moment. "Oh — sorry. My mind was elsewhere. Yes... that's what I meant." I tried to gather myself, to sound composed.

"What were you thinking about?"
He stepped closer.

Instinctively, I moved back until the cool wall pressed against my shoulders, trapping the warmth of his presence between us.

"Something."
My heart fluttered in betrayal. Why does he always do this to me?

"You were thinking about me."
He smirked, eyes searching mine.

"Of course not!" I shot back, louder than necessary. Who does he think he is, playing with my head like this?

"You're sure?"
He leaned in closer, testing my resolve.

"Yeah! What do you think you're doing? I mean — what did you even come here for?" I tried to redirect the conversation, but he wasn't letting go.

"As I said," he murmured, "I came for you."
His hands lifted, gently cupping my cheeks. The gesture was soft, disarming.

"Stephen... I can't be with you." My voice dropped, almost pleading. He needed to understand — some lines shouldn't be crossed.

"I can't force you, Sharon." His tone softened. "But we both know there's something here."

He leaned in, placing a lingering kiss on my forehead before moving downward, brushing against my lips. My body reacted before my mind could protest — warmth, longing, familiarity — everything I had buried rising at once.

I had wanted this... for longer than I dared admit.
But Patricia's shadow hovered, reminding me of betrayal and consequence.

"Stephen... I can't. I'm not ready."
I pulled back, forcing distance between us.

His expression shifted immediately. Regret softened his features as he stepped away.
"I'm sorry. I didn't... I don't know what came over me."

"Stephen," I called softly, my voice gentler now.

He hesitated before speaking again, sincerity settling into his words.
"I just want you to know — I'm not trying to use you. You're different from every girl I've met."