My first crush (COMPLETED)√

PART 2: Chapter 71: She was going commit murder

"Sharon... I'm really happy you're back in my arms."

Stephen's voice was low and warm, his arms wrapped tightly around me beneath the tangled sheets. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and pale, warming the room just enough to chase away the chill of the night. The scent of rain still lingered faintly from the storm.

"Me too," I murmured, smiling against his chest. "God... last night was fun. Hard to forget. Especially those moves." I leaned up to kiss him, playful and light.

He chuckled softly, brushing strands of hair from my face. "I really missed you. You know that, right? You've become a part of me. And I know I can be... intense." His expression softened. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

"I'm sorry for the things I said," I replied quietly. Then my grin returned. "So I think we should burn the past by... celebrating once more."

He laughed outright. "Sharon! Do you ever get tired? I used to think I was the expert. Now you're outpacing me."

"Sorry, teacher," I teased, tugging at him. "Just pour me some love."

⸻

Stephen's POV

I liked what I saw — her laughter, the warmth, the easy closeness.

But something felt off.

Too perfect.

A voice echoed inside my head.

Wake up.

My senses shifted abruptly. The warmth vanished. The softness of the moment shattered — and I jerked awake.

Darkness. Confusion.

Pressure slammed against my face.

A pillow.

"What the—" I choked, grabbing at it, struggling.

"Go to hell, you bastard!" Sharon's voice — raw and furious.

I shoved her away, gasping for air. She stumbled back onto the bed, breathing just as hard as I was.

"Sharon... what the hell?!" I shouted. "Why were you trying to kill me?!"

Her eyes burned with anger. "I woke up in your bed! After you kidnapped me from the bar and slept with me! How dare you!"

My shock hardened instantly. "Kidnapped? Raped you?" I scoffed, rubbing my face. "Please. You were the one asking for it."

Her arms folded tightly across her chest. "Excuse me?"

I grabbed my phone. "I knew you might twist things when you woke up."

I pressed play.

Her own voice spilled from the speaker — hazy but unmistakable, teasing and insistent.

Silence filled the room as it ended.

Her hand flew to her mouth, shame flashing across her face.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a crooked smile tugging at my lips. "You don't remember?"

She rolled her eyes, defensive. "And why would I beg you?"

"You tell me," I replied. "You looked like you missed me."

She shot back immediately. "Or maybe you were the desperate one."

I smirked. "If I were, I wouldn't have options lining up."

The words landed harder than I expected. I saw the flicker of hurt she tried to bury.

She straightened, masking it. "Whatever."

I lifted my phone again, triumphant. "Either way... evidence speaks."

She stayed silent.

I met her gaze.

"So," I said quietly, the smugness fading into something more serious, "what now?"

The room hung in a fragile stillness — tension, pride, and unresolved emotion lingering heavier than anything that had happened the night before.