Chapter Three #3
We stop at a light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as his jaw tenses. “I like a challenge.”
“Is that all I am to you? A challenge?”
He laughs. “No, you’re much more than that,” he finishes, jaw unclenching. “You’re the one person who’s always called me out on my bullshit.”
“You say that like it’s a compliment.” The snort that follows makes me cover my nose.
“You don’t have to cover that up. It’s cute.”
“It’s revolting.” The way he stares at me makes me want things I shouldn’t. “Just like you,” I blurt out, unable to control it.
Hurting him is just easier.
It makes more sense.
It’s not as alarming as the alternative.
We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. Every once in a while, he clenches the wheel like he’s fighting me in his head, while I blankly look out the window since talking is causing more chaos than control.
He pulls up in front of my house fifteen minutes later, the engine cutting off, the silence still thick and stifling.
“You know, I’m not the bad guy here, Poppy.
Fight me. Hate me. Keep twisting my words to make yourself feel better.
Do whatever you like to push me out of your mind.
But I’m not going anywhere. I see you, Poppy.
Like really see you,” he says. “Everything you try to hide, I see.” His eyes meet mine, and the heat between us is scalding.
“Well, stop,” I fire back, yanking my door open. “I didn’t ask for that.”
I’m halfway up the walkway when his door slams.
“Don’t walk away from this,” he shouts.
I spin around. “Walk away from what?”
“Me. Us. This blatant attraction we’re both feeling.”
“I’m not attracted to you,” I snap. “I can barely stand to look at you.”
He closes the distance between us in three long strides. Those blue eyes, devilishly wild. “It’s because I challenge everything you stand for. You pretend to hate me. Use my past as a weapon. But the reality is, deep down, you know I’m the one person you need the most.”
“You don’t get to psychoanalyze me, Wesley,” I scoff. “You punched someone at prom. You don’t get to be the mature one here.”
His mouth curves into a humorless smile. “He disrespected you.”
“Well, your help wasn’t needed.”
“Well, you didn’t need him either,” he shoots back. “I know what you wanted from him, and it’s bullshit.”
My temper flares. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“No,” he says, stepping closer. “But I’m gonna call bullshit when I see it.”
My parents aren’t even home; both of them are away on a business trip, and Pippa is still at prom, probably being crowned queen. And then there’s me… standing a few feet away from my door, staring into the eyes of the most infuriatingly handsome person on earth.
“Just go home, Wesley.”
He doesn’t stop me from turning toward the door.
But he does follow me. Every step he takes is heavy and full of intent.
I shove my key into the lock with trembling hands, my walls crumbling.
“He’s not the right one, Poppy. Not for you.”
“You don’t know anything about Tony.”
“I know he was only using you to gain points on his roster,” he informs me. “He didn’t give two shits about you, Poppy.”
“Maybe that’s what I wanted?” I fire back, even though my heart is stuttering like it’s gasping. “Someone who was willing to take my virginity and not want anything else.”
Silence falls between us.
“Is that what you really wanted? For some guy to take you to prom, give you a half-hearted fuck, and be done with you?”
“It’s easier,” I admit, the fight leaving me.
“Why?”
“Because the alternative is terrifying. I’m going to college soon; we all are. I don’t want to be another stigma… I want to belong.”
“Then don’t waste it on some asshat with bedpost scratchings.”
“And who’s gonna take it, you?”
His eyes answer for him, darkening with a desire I can’t quite describe.
“All you have to do is ask.”
I freeze.
“That’s not—”
He cuts me off. “If you want to lose your virginity, lose it to someone who actually gives a fuck about you. Someone who would tear down mountains and reduce them to rubble if they stood in your way.” He moves before I can respond, lips covering mine with such fierce intention that it dismantles every snippy comeback I have.
He kisses me like a madman, his grip on my hip marking me with possession, a flash of desire erupting in his eyes like lightning.
It’s all there. Every feeling I tried to suppress and cover with hostility, all of it spills out of me like a faucet set to overflow.
My hands move to his shirt, gripping it tightly, my moan stifled by his lips that are punishing and full of promise.
It feels right… like he’s the one who I’m meant to be with.
We move into the house, smashing against open doors, tearing at the clothing that dares to separate us.
I want to tell him no. To stop what my heart wants, and my head says is too risky, but I can’t. Not when he kisses like fury and desire collided and I’m trapped in the wreckage.
His mouth is everywhere, demanding more, unrelenting in his pursuit. It’s like he’s trying to prove something to both of us, that somehow something so imperfect will suddenly become everything.
My back hits the wall, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs as his forehead presses to mine, both of us breathing hard.
“This is a mistake,” I whisper, even as my body betrays me and I lean into his embrace, enjoying how my ice collides with his heat.
He’s never questioned this… us. All that we could be.
Wesley believes in something that just isn’t possible: a future that we know will always end in heartbreak. It still doesn’t stop him from drawing me closer, or toying with my cleavage like it’s his.
“Then stop me,” he murmurs, lips brushing over my jaw. Shivers cascade down my spine like enticing waterfalls. “Say the word and I’ll walk out the door.”
I don’t.
Instead, I drag him closer, my fingers digging into his hair, pulling at the follicles as he sucks on the sensitive part of my skin.
His mouth is hot and sultry, his movements predatory and restrained all at once.
His grip tightens, anchoring me, grounding me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
We stumble deeper into the house, adrenaline and want colliding, every step reckless and breathless. My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure he can feel the rhythm too.
This is too much.
Too fast.
Too dangerous.
We get to my door, the only barrier separating us from something real. It’s terrifying how close we are to changing everything and rewriting a history that was made to be broken.
That’s when reality finally slams into me.
I can’t do this.
Not with him.
Not with someone who will ruin everything I’m working towards.
“Wesley, I can’t,” I gasp, pressing my palm to his chest, forcing space between us. “Not with you. Not with a—”
“Felon?” he interrupts, voice already going cold.
I nod, unable to meet his eyes. “Sleeping with you would be a mistake.”
The silence that follows is devastating.
He lets go, his resentment building.
He takes a step back, fists clenching in frustration while I stand there in abandoned chaos, my lips desperate for more, my skin suddenly too cold from where his fingers just were.
The fire that was burning in his eyes is gone, snuffed out and replaced with something colder and more distant.
“I may be a felon, Poppy,” he says in a controlled tone that makes my skin crawl, “but there will never be another man who will fight for you the way I would have.”
And then he’s gone.
I don’t stop him when he disappears down the hall.
I don’t run after him when I hear the front door open and slam shut behind him.
I just stand there shaking, his kiss lingering like a permanent tattoo, my heart lodged painfully in my throat like I’ll never be able to swallow again.
His engine starts, and the tires peel away, and still I stand there completely confused and shaken.
Whatever chance I had, a reckless and desperate hope that he’d somehow keep chasing, disappears down the street with him.
He won’t come back. Not this time.
And that’s how my prom night ends. Not with fireworks and my chastity broken, but with a painful regret that will haunt me for years to come. All because of a boy I was too scared to let in.