My first crush (COMPLETED)√

PART 2: Chapter 85: Heaven or hell

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Allison jabbed my arm insistently, her nails digging just enough to demand attention. The club lights flashed across her face, painting it blue, then crimson.

"Look," she shouted over the music.

I followed the direction of her finger — and my breath caught.

"Isn't that your psycho boyfriend?" Allison asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

My gaze narrowed, trying to focus through the strobing lights and the shifting bodies between us.

Stephen.

Wrapped around another girl.

"With another girl?" Allison scoffed, leaning closer. "Not just any girl — a freaking stripper."

My chest tightened. I blinked hard, as if that would erase the image.

There was no way.
Absolutely no way on this earth that could be Stephen. Maybe someone with the same build. The same posture. The same hair.

Stephen wouldn't do that to me.

"No... you've got it wrong," I muttered, turning my face away.

"Please. I'm not blind." Allison folded her arms. "Black hair. Tall. Annoyingly hot body. That's him."

I shot her a look, something sour twisting inside me.

"Wait... that's what you think of him? 'Annoyingly hot body'?"

Jealousy tasted metallic on my tongue. That was my phrase — mine to say. Or... it used to be.

She hesitated.
"Uh... well... every girl thinks that. It's normal."

I forced a small nod.
"Yeah. Normal."

Silence lingered between us before she nudged me again.

"So go confirm it. I'm telling you — I'm right."

Against my better judgment, I looked again.

This time there was no mistaking it.

The way he leaned in.
The familiarity.
The ease.

My heart dropped like it had been cut loose from my chest.

"I... I can't," I whispered.

"And why not?"

"Because..." My throat tightened. "We broke up."

Allison's reaction wasn't sympathy — it was pure shock and curiosity. Her hands clamped onto my shoulders.

"You guys broke up?!"

I sighed.
"Yeah."

Her expression shifted into something oddly bright.

"So he's not your boyfriend anymore."

I blinked at her.
"I think that was implied."

"That means he's free. You're free."

"Just say whatever you're trying to say."

She cleared her throat.

"Well... I was just thinking... hypothetically... it wouldn't be wrong if I spent some time with him tonight, right?"

For a moment I just stared at her, heat surging through my veins.

What was I supposed to feel?
Anger?
Shock?
Possessiveness?

He's my boyfr—

No.
Not anymore.

"Allison," I said slowly, voice tight, "that doesn't make sense. You're my friend."

She broke into laughter.

"Relax. I'm joking."

I didn't laugh.

"That joke was expensive," I muttered. "What I need right now is a drink."

I pushed through the crowd toward the bar. Neon lights glared off polished surfaces while bartenders moved like machines, pouring, shaking, sliding glasses down the counter. The air smelled sharp with alcohol and citrus.

I grabbed a shot — didn't even care what it was — and swallowed it. The burn spread through my chest, but it didn't dull what I felt.

I looked again.

His hands on her.
Her leaning into him.

Fury sparked hot and uncontrollable.

Was he cheating all along?
Patricia? Someone else?
Was I just not enough?

My thoughts spiraled darker, sharper. Another drink went down. My fists clenched.

That's it.

Because I said it was over didn't mean he could just erase everything.

I turned, storming through the crowd.

Stephen Walker was about to regret tonight.

⸻

Stephen POV

I barely registered the girl beside me speaking when a sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Hey!"

I glanced up — and froze.

Sharon.

So she'd been watching.

Before I could react, she grabbed the girl and yanked her away from me. The girl barely had time to protest before Sharon struck — sudden, fierce, unstoppable. Gasps erupted from nearby tables as people turned to watch.

I stared, stunned.

I'd never seen her like this — raw emotion blazing through her every movement.

Part of me should have stepped in immediately.

But another part... the wounded, angry part... just watched.

The girl tried to fight back, but Sharon's fury drove her forward relentlessly.

Then something shifted — something in Sharon's eyes that made my chest tighten.

Too far.

I lunged forward, grabbing her arms.

"Sharon — stop!"

She turned toward me, breathing hard, eyes burning with rage and hurt intertwined.

And in that moment, I knew.

Tonight had just crossed a line none of us could uncross.