17. Lula
17
LULA
M aybe I should’ve thought this through. Maybe I should’ve stopped to consider what I was doing before I let my emotions take over. But when I saw Kanyan sitting alone on that couch in the dark, looking like the weight of the world was crushing him, all I could think was that I wanted to be near him. I wanted to feel his arms around me, grounding me, protecting me. I wanted to touch him, taste him, let him chase away the hollow ache that’s been gnawing at my chest.
I’ve never had a man in my life who put me first, who didn’t want something from me or see me as a means to an end. But Kanyan—he’s different. In the short time I’ve been here, he’s shown me more kindness and restraint than I thought possible. He’s never crossed a line, never taken advantage of me, and yet here I am, throwing myself at him. I’m the one breaking every unspoken rule, sliding into his lap like I belong there, like I’ve got any business craving him this much.
His body tenses the moment I settle on him, but he doesn’t push me away. I’m half expecting him to. Instead, he looks at me with those dark, stormy eyes that always seem to see too much, and for a moment, I think I’ve done the right thing. I think maybe he feels the same pull I do, the same unshakable need.
After we’re finished, he rises and flicks the lights back on, flooding the room with harsh clarity. His gaze drops, and I follow it, my stomach twisting as I realize what he’s seeing. The streak of blood on my thighs is impossible to miss, crimson against my pale skin. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. I hadn’t thought it would matter. I hadn’t thought it was a big deal. But the look on Kanyan’s face tells me otherwise.
His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard, like he’s forcing down some invisible weight. For a second, I think he might be sick. Then he’s on his feet, pacing the room with his hands buried in his hair, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, like he’s trying to hold himself together.
“You’re a virgin?!” The words explode out of him, sharp and disbelieving.
Not anymore.
He says it like it’s something dirty, like I’ve committed some unforgivable sin by not announcing it beforehand. The accusation stings, and I take an instinctive step back, my cheeks burning with humiliation. Was I supposed to advertise the fact that I’m late to the party and have never even been kissed?
“I didn’t think it mattered.” I snap, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong.
“Didn’t think it mattered?” He rounds on me, his voice rising as he throws his arms out in frustration. I can see that the pain in his shoulder is all but forgotten; this trumps that. “Of course, it matters! Do you have any idea what you just—” He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching as he exhales sharply, trying to rein himself in. “Lula, you can’t just…” He trails off again, shaking his head like he doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to shield myself from the whirlwind of emotions he’s throwing at me. “Why are you so angry?” I ask, my voice quieter now. “It’s my choice. My body. What does it matter to you?”
He stops pacing and turns to face me, his expression softening just enough for me to see the concern beneath the frustration. “Because it’s not just about you,” he says, his voice low and rough. “You don’t understand what you’re giving away. What it means. And I…” He rubs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “I can’t be the one to take that from you. Not like this. Not when you don’t really know what you’re asking for.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. I thought I was ready. I thought I wanted this. But now, standing here under the weight of his gaze, I’m not so sure. The doubt creeps in, slow and insidious, and I hate it. I hate feeling small and naive and inexperienced. I hate that he’s right.
“I’m not a child,” I say, though the words lack the conviction I wish they had. “I know what I want.”
Kanyan steps closer, his expression soft but firm. “Do you?” he asks, his voice gentle now. “Because this… what you’re asking for… it changes things. It’s not something you can take back. And I need you to be absolutely sure, Lula. Not just about this moment, but about everything that comes after.”
I look up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, and for the first time, I see the fear in his eyes. Not fear for himself, but for me. For what this could mean for us. And suddenly, I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Your first time should have been special, Lula.” He says my name like a prayer and a plea, his voice so soft that it makes my heart ache. “With someone you love. Someone who—” He stops, his jaw working as he looks away, like he’s wrestling with something he doesn’t want to say out loud.
His words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding, and I don’t know what to do with them. My chest tightens, shame and frustration tangling together into a knot I can’t undo. Kanyan steps closer, the warmth of his body radiating against my skin, but he doesn’t touch me. He’s holding himself back like he’s afraid one wrong move will shatter whatever fragile balance we have between us.
My throat feels tight, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “What if I do love you?” The words slip out before I can stop them, trembling and raw. I bite my lip, hating how vulnerable I sound, how exposed. But I can’t take them back, even if I want to.
Kanyan’s head snaps up, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath. He looks like he’s been struck, like my confession hit him somewhere deep and unguarded. For a moment, neither of us moves, the silence between us crackling with something electric, something alive.
Then he exhales, a long, shuddering breath that seems to drain the fight out of him. “You can’t love me,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, and the sadness in his voice cuts me open. “This… it’s not love, Lula. It’s heat. It’s adrenaline. It’s... everything but the thing you deserve.”
I shake my head, my chest burning. “How can you say that? You don’t get to decide what I feel?—”
“You’re right.” He cuts me off, his voice sharper now, though his gaze remains soft. “I don’t. But I know what I feel. And I feel like if I let this happen now, I’d be stealing something from you I can’t give back. Something that should be yours to keep, not mine to take.”
Hello!!! I feel like screaming at him. Virginity…gone. Why are we holding back when we’ve already crossed that line?
My tears spill over before I can stop them, hot and unwelcome. I hate crying in front of him, hate that I can’t seem to hold myself together. But Kanyan steps closer, his hands hovering near my shoulders before he lets them fall to his sides, as if even now, he doesn’t trust himself to touch me.
“I care about you, Lula,” he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my chest. “More than I should. And that’s why I can’t do this.”
I can’t speak, can’t think past the storm raging in my chest. I just stand there, my tears falling in silence, while Kanyan’s gaze holds me together and tears me apart all at once.
He steps back then, putting space between us that feels colder than the empty room. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly, and though the words are kind, they feel like a dismissal.
I nod, unable to meet his eyes, and turn to leave the room. My legs feel like lead as I walk away, my heart a heavy weight in my chest. When I reach my room, I close the door and sink onto the bed, my tears soaking into the pillow as Kanyan’s words echo in my mind, pulling at something deep inside me.