Unrequited

Chapter 13

The documentary's hold on me shattered with a quiet clink of ceramic. Panic surged through me. I was certain I locked the door before settling onto the bed. Turning, I saw the culprit on my bed beside me, shamelessly devouring my ice cream.

"Windows Angel," he said calmly, a lopsided grin plastered on his face as he stuffed his mouth again. My knuckles turned white as I dug my fingers into my palms, pain shooting up my arm.

"You do not enter my room without permission," I hissed, locking eyes with him.

Those eyes. The ones I fell for, craved attention from, yet hated so much I couldn't bear them. They were an ocean I foolishly longed to dive into, a canvas he painted red and then tore apart without mercy.

Shaking off the emotions, I ordered, "Leave, Kenneth!" My voice, a mix of anger and frustration, lacked conviction.

"No," he replied curtly, returning to the documentary. I sighed and repeated, "Kenneth, please leave!" My voice cracked as I pleaded.

He didn't budge. I gave up, returning to my original spot and resuming the documentary, "22 July," from where I remembered.

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt his gaze burning through me. I was lost in the documentary, completely oblivious, until a frown tugged at my lips. Turning to meet his eyes, I was met with a disarmingly sweet look on his face. "What are you looking at?" I blurted out, the frown replaced by a confused arch of my eyebrow.

His smile widened, transforming the sweetness into a playful glint. "Nothing," he chuckled, "just thinking how adorable you get when you're engrossed in a movie, all furrowed brow and bitten lips." My cheeks flushed crimson, the heat rising from my neck to my hairline.

My eyes, traitorous things, darted to his lips. Soft, pink, and impossibly kissable, they were the kind that would make even the most confident girl jealous. Shamelessly, my gaze lingered longer than it should have.

As if drawn by an invisible force, my hand reached up, cupping the warm skin of his jaw. Our eyes locked his darkening with an intensity that made my stomach lurch. How could someone be so captivating, so forbiddingly attractive, yet so close? My head tilted a fraction closer, the space between us shrinking with every passing second.

Then, it hit me. Like a bucket of ice-cold water, the realization doused the simmering heat. This wasn't just a stolen moment, a harmless flirtation. This was a line, and I was about to cross it. The implications, the consequences, washed over me in a wave of cold clarity.

He is the boyfriend of the girl you called your best friend...

My hand hovered near his cheek, a traitorous warmth spreading through my palm. But then, a cold wave of reality crashed down. This wasn't just a stolen moment, it was a betrayal. He was someone else's, and I, a fleeting thought away from crossing a line I couldn't return from. Disgust coiled in my stomach, tightening like a fist.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to see reason. When I opened them, my gaze landed on a smudge of ice cream on his lip. My hand, driven by a strange impulse, reached out, the pad of my thumb wiping away the mess. My touch lingered, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through me.

That's when the truth hit me like a slap. If I looked any longer, I wouldn't just be wiping away ice cream, I'd be kissing him. All of him. His eyes, his cheeks, his lips, a whirlwind of forbidden desires. And the worst part? I wouldn't regret a single one.

Tears welled up, blurring my vision. Panic clawed at my throat. I grabbed a napkin, scrubbing the incriminating touch from my thumb. Stepping back, I found my voice, a choked whisper, "Get out!"

He stared, bewildered. "What? Why?"

Seconds ago, I was teetering on the edge, but now, anger replaced the fear. It wasn't just me who almost crossed the line. He was playing innocent, pretending not to feel the same pull. The audacity of it fueled my fury. My body trembled, heat radiating off me.

"Get out!" I hissed, my voice laced with venom. My eyes burned with unshed tears and a barely contained rage. If he didn't move, I swear I would have shoved him out myself. But thankfully, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening, filled only with the echo of my ragged breaths and the sting of betrayal. I had dodged a bullet, but the wound remained, raw and throbbing. And as I sank onto the bed, the tears finally spilt, washing away the remnants of forbidden desire and leaving behind a bitter taste of guilt and shame.

The door slammed shut with a thud, the echo barely registering through the storm raging within me. I crumpled onto the floor, a shattered reflection of the girl I thought I was. It wasn't just Kenneth's presence that fueled the fire in my gut, but the searing guilt, the suffocating remorse, the self-loathing that mirrored the ice cream stain I desperately scrubbed from my thumb.

Moments ago, I was inches away from betraying myself, my values, everything I held dear. The thought of my actions ignited a fury that rivaled a thousand suns. How could I have even considered crossing that line? The shame was a bitter pill, leaving a metallic tang on my tongue.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring the world into a watercolor mess. Time lost all meaning as I wallowed in my despair. Then, with a shaky resolve, I dragged myself to the bed, fingers fumbling for my phone. Only one name offered a glimmer of solace, a voice that could soothe the storm within.

As the dial tone hummed, my heart hammered against my ribs. When his voice finally washed over me, a whisper laced with concern, a traitorous smile tugged at my lips. The tear stains felt absurd, yet the warmth in his voice was irresistible.

"Kev," I choked out, desperately trying to mask the tremor in my voice.