My first crush (COMPLETED)√

Chapter 28: hidden things

"Eric!"

Her voice snapped twice, sharp enough to pull me out of wherever my thoughts had wandered. I blinked, realizing I'd been staring blankly ahead.

What is he thinking about now? she probably wondered. I could tell she'd noticed how distant I'd become.

"What?" I asked, dragging myself back to the moment.

She tilted her head slightly. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I replied too quickly.

But it wasn't nothing.

The way she bent forward, reaching for something, caught my eyes before I could stop myself. My gaze lingered — the curve of her form, the softness she carried so effortlessly — and a rush of heat climbed through me. I forced myself to look away, jaw tightening. Desire flickered dangerously close to the surface, and I hated how hard it was to suppress it.

She had no idea what her presence alone did to me.

"I want to take a bath," she said casually. "Do you have an extra towel? I forgot mine."

Her voice was calm, unaware, trusting — and that made it even harder.

"Yeah," I muttered, pushing myself to stand before my thoughts spiraled any further. I opened my drawer, grabbed a clean towel, and handed it to her.

"Thanks."

She disappeared into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind her.

Silence settled over the room, and with it came the flood of reckless thoughts I tried to bury. I rubbed my face, exhaling sharply. Acting on them would be wrong — completely wrong — and I knew it.

The doorbell rang, snapping me out of it.

Grateful for the distraction, I headed to the living room and opened the door without checking.

Pain exploded across my face.

A fist connected before I even registered who stood there. I staggered backward, copper filling my mouth as blood rushed from my nose. Before I could recover, another punch landed, sending my vision spinning.

I lifted my eyes.

Stephen.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

"How dare you sleep with my girlfriend!" he shouted, striking me again.

I barely steadied myself against the wall. "Sharon! Sharon!"

"Eric, is that you?"

She emerged from the hallway wrapped in a white towel, hair damp, eyes wide — and the sight only fueled Stephen's rage. To him, it confirmed everything he feared.

"No," he snapped. "It's me."

"Ste... Stephen?" Confusion clouded her expression. "How did you know—"

But he wasn't interested in explaining. His gaze burned with accusation.

"How could you come here? Why him?"

"Why do you care?" she shot back.

His anger faltered, replaced by desperation. "I know you're upset. I didn't want you misunderstanding what you saw at my place. Mara was there because I got drunk — she drove me home. Nothing happened, I swear. Don't stay here. Please."

"Mara?" I folded my arms, jealousy flashing before I could hide it.

Sharon hesitated, absorbing his words. "You should've just told me. I would've understood."

"Then come with me," he urged. "Get dressed. You're coming home."

She glanced at me — guilt flickering in her eyes — torn between us.

"Sharon... stay," I said quietly.

But Stephen had already pushed past us, grabbing her belongings.

"Let's go."

He took her wrist and guided her toward the door.

"Not like this," she protested. "I need to put something on."

"You make me act like this when it comes to him," he muttered. "You can dress in the car."

"That's not happening."

He tried to pull her along anyway. In the struggle, his hand caught the edge of the towel wrapped around her.

It slipped free.

For a split second, time froze.

She gasped, arms instinctively crossing over herself, cheeks burning with humiliation. Stephen and I both turned away almost immediately — tension, embarrassment, and unspoken emotion thick in the air.

"Stephen!" she exclaimed, mortified.

The moment lingered, raw and chaotic — another fracture in a situation already breaking apart.