Loving you Dangerously

Chapter 1

The morning after, the metallic taste of his words lingered on Alexis’s tongue, a bitter, lingering flavor that was far more potent than the alcohol. "This never happened." He had said it so easily, so callously. He had used her, and now he was casting her aside like a disposable toy.

But Trigger didn't understand. For him, it was a drunken mistake. For her, it was a beginning. It was proof. He couldn't deny her scent on his skin, the memory of her body against his.

His rejection wasn't a stop sign; it was a challenge. A delicious, dangerous game she was more than ready to play.

Her heart, bruised but unbroken, hardened. She had spent her entire life in the shadow of her twin, Angelica. Every achievement, every compliment, every ounce of affection had always been Angelica’s. Her parents had championed Angelica’s dreams, celebrated her delicate beauty, and protected her fragile health. Alexis had wanted to be a fashion designer, to create a world that was entirely her own, but even that was denied in favor of her sister's chosen course.

All her life she had craved validation, and she had finally found a single, solitary source of it in Trigger’s reluctant desire. She would not let him go. She would not lose to Angelica again.She knew his weakness: his affection for her twin. It was a card she was now ready to play. She would use Angelica’s innocence and his unrequited love for her as a weapon to get what she wanted.

Meanwhile, across the city, Trigger felt like a man walking through a minefield. The previous night was a fog of liquor and unleashed fury. He couldn’t shake the image of Alexis, desperate and shameless, begging for him. He hated himself for giving in, for letting his frustration boil over into a moment of pure, animalistic lust.

He scrubbed his face, trying to wash away the scent of her, the memory of her whispered pleas. He was disgusted by her desperation, yet a part of him still burned with the fire she had ignited. It was a fire he refused to acknowledge, a weakness he abhorred. His feelings for Angelica were clean, pure, a stark contrast to the dark chaos of Alexis.

He reached for his phone and dialed Angelica’s number, a desperate attempt to cleanse his mind. "Hey, Trigger," Angelica's voice, soft and sweet, was a balm to his frazzled nerves. "Are you okay? You sound... tired."

"I'm fine, Angel," he lied, his voice softening instantly. "Just a long night. I was wondering... are you free for lunch? I want to talk to you about something important." He needed to see her. He needed to remind himself what love felt like, what it was supposed to be. He needed to erase Alexis.

"Lunch? Hmm. Let me check my schedule, I have a big project due next week," Angelica said with a gentle laugh. "Can we talk about it later? The school year is almost over, and I need to focus. You know how important this is to me."

Her words were a subtle blow. He was always second to her studies, her grades, her architecture dreams. He felt a familiar ache of rejection, the constant, low-level frustration of being just a friend. It wasn't fair. He was always there for her, but she never seemed to need him in the same way.

As he hung up, he didn't notice the figure watching him from across the street. Alexis had followed him. She saw his disappointment as he put his phone away, saw the way his shoulders slumped. A cruel, knowing smile crept across her face. He was in pain, and it was all because of Angelica. This was perfect. This was exactly what she needed. The game had just begun.

#The Project

The forced partnership felt less like a coincidence and more like a cruel joke crafted by the universe itself. Trigger had shown up to the Business Administration department's collaborative lounge, expecting to meet his assigned partner for the capstone project.

Instead, he found Alexis Andromeda perched on a plush leather sofa, her long black hair a striking contrast to the pale gray walls. She was already there, meticulously organizing a stack of papers, her presence a silent, suffocating weight.

His jaw tightened. "Alexis." The word was a low, hostile growl. She looked up, a cool, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Trigger. Fancy seeing you here."

There was no desperation in her eyes now, only a chilling confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. She wasn't the same girl from the night of the party. This was a predator, and she was toying with her prey.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice flat.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, her smile widening as she gestured to the project folders on the table. "I'm your partner, apparently. Our capstone projects are being merged for a semester-end exhibition." She leaned back, crossing her legs, a picture of effortless control.

Trigger's stomach churned. This was a nightmare. He had spent the last two days trying to purge the memory of their night, only for her to be delivered to him on a silver platter. "I’ll ask for a different partner," he stated, his hands clenching into fists.

"And give up on a perfect score?" she challenged, her tone a smooth provocation. "Our combined knowledge would make this project a masterpiece. Besides," she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I promise to be good."

The double meaning hit him with the force of a punch. The professional façade he was desperately clinging to began to crack. He pulled up a chair across from her, the space between them feeling impossibly small. He opened his laptop, forcing his attention to the screen. "Let's get this over with. What's the plan?"

They worked in a tense, suffocating silence. Alexis, to his surprise, was brilliant. Her architectural vision was innovative, her ideas for sustainable urban design both elegant and groundbreaking. She was a completely different person from the desperate girl he had known. She spoke with a quiet authority, her mind a whirlwind of creative solutions. He found himself grudgingly impressed, but his admiration was a dangerous road.

After an hour, she stood up to stretch, her movements fluid and deliberate. She walked around the table and stopped directly behind his chair, leaning over his shoulder to point at the screen. Her long hair brushed against his ear, and the familiar, intoxicating scent of her perfume enveloped him. He froze, his body instinctively tensing.

"Dito natin ilalagay 'yung flow of traffic, so it can connect to the business model," she murmured, her voice a low purr. Her fingers, cool and slender, grazed his neck as she pointed to a diagram on the monitor. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the proximity a torment. "I can see it from over there, Alexis," he muttered, his voice strained.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her lips so close to his ear he could feel her breath. "Because it seems like you’re not seeing much of anything. You're trying so hard to ignore me, but I can feel you trembling, Trigger."

He shoved his chair back, standing abruptly. The sudden movement sent a pile of papers scattering across the floor. "Stop it!" he snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "Stop it, Alexis. I'm warning you."

Her eyes, dark and knowing, met his. She didn't flinch. She simply knelt to pick up the papers, her movements graceful. As she stood, she held out a single sheet to him, their fingers brushing. She held his gaze, a flicker of that same hunger from the night of the party returning to her eyes.

"No, Trigger. You don't get to warn me anymore," she said, her voice barely audible. "You had your chance. Now it's my turn. And I won't stop until you admit it. You want me just as much as I want you."

********

The soccer field was Trigger’s sanctuary. Here, the only thing that mattered was the ball at his feet, the grass beneath his cleats, and the burn in his lungs. It was the one place on campus where he could outrun the ghost of that drunken night and the chilling, calculating presence of Alexis Andromeda. But even here, she found him.

She walked onto the field as if she owned it, an ethereal figure against the green expanse. She wasn't in her usual casual, school-appropriate attire. She was a vision of deliberate provocation in a form-fitting cropped top and a short mini-skirt that hugged her curves in all the places he was trying so hard not to think about. Her long, straight black hair, which he had once imagined tangled on his pillows, swayed with every step, a silent, beautiful taunt.

"Hi, Trigger," she said, her voice unnervingly calm, without the desperate edge he had grown accustomed to. She held a folder, the same one from their capstone project. "I was just reviewing our notes."

Trigger stopped mid-dribble, letting the ball roll to a stop at his feet. The hostility he felt was a physical thing, a knot in his stomach. "What do you want, Alexis?"

She tilted her head, a soft, innocent smile on her face. "Ang aga mo namang mainit, Trigger. Relax. I’m just here to work. Besides, our parents are meeting soon about the project. Maybe we should, too?" Her actions were all an act—kunyari normal lang at walang malisya—but he wasn't fooled. Every movement, every glance, was a calculated move.

As she spoke, she moved closer, her proximity a slow, agonizing form of torture. He could smell her perfume, a scent that was both intoxicating and dangerous. It wasn't the sweet, floral scent of Angelica. It was something darker, more alluring, more powerful. He took a step back, but she moved with him, the distance between them never changing.

'What is wrong with you?' he thought, his internal voice a hammer against his skull. He hated her guts. He hated her shamelessness, her desperation, and the way she had tried to possess him since they were kids. He hated what she had done to Angelica and how he felt caught in the middle of their rivalry. But as he looked at her, his eyes fell to the sliver of skin exposed by her top, the graceful curve of her waist, the powerful lines of her legs. He felt the familiar, unwelcome stir of lust in his gut. It was a vile, disgusting feeling, a betrayal of his heart, which belonged to Angelica. Angelica was a delicate flower, a gentle breeze, a pure and innocent love. Alexis was a storm, a fire, a destructive force he felt powerless to stop. He wanted the gentle breeze, but his body ached for the destructive fire.

She reached for the ball and effortlessly dribbled it, then stopped, her face just inches from his. "Trigger, I have a new idea for the project, but you have to come closer to see the sketch."

It was a blatant lie, a flimsy excuse. But he found himself leaning in, his defenses crumbling. He stared at her, mesmerized by the dark, hungry look in her eyes, a look he knew because he had seen it in his own reflection. His breath hitched as he felt the undeniable pull.

He stepped back, his chest heaving, his hands balling into fists. "Stop it!" he yelled, the word a raw, guttural cry of frustration. "Just stop! I can't… I won't." He turned and ran, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the field, the project folder at her feet.

He ran, not from her, but from himself and the dangerous feelings she ignited in him.