Too Close To Back Out
1041 Words
I should’ve stayed away from him.
After everything that happened yesterday… I should’ve created distance. Built walls. Gone back to being invisible.
But instead—
I was standing outside his house again.
Violet, you’re an i***t.
I exhaled sharply and knocked before I could change my mind.
The door opened almost immediately.
Marcelo.
His eyes met mine, and just like that, everything from yesterday came rushing back—the cafeteria, his voice defending me, the way he said “because it’s you.”
God.
“Hey,” he said, quieter than usual.
“Hey,” I replied, my voice barely steady.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he stepped aside. “Come in.”
The house felt… different tonight.
Or maybe it was just us.
There was no teasing. No smart comments. No playful tension to hide behind.
Just silence.
Heavy. Thick.
Dangerous.
I dropped my bag by the couch, trying to act normal. “So… what’s the plan today?”
Marcelo leaned against the wall, watching me in a way that made my skin heat. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re still mad at me.”
I blinked. “I’m not mad at you.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You avoided me all day.”
“I had classes,” I said quickly.
“Right.” His lips twitched. “Classes.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful—grateful—for even a hint of the old him. “Don’t start.”
“Too late,” he said, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. Slowly. Intentionally.
My heart started racing again.
“Marcelo—”
“Why didn’t you let me finish yesterday?” he cut in.
I froze.
Because I knew exactly what he meant.
About last night…
“I didn’t think there was anything to finish,” I said, even though the lie tasted bitter.
His jaw tightened. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Good thing I’m not trying to impress you.”
“You already do.”
My breath hitched.
There it was again.
That shift.
That dangerous, unpredictable shift where everything between us stopped being a game.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.
“Doing what?”
“This,” I gestured between us. “Whatever this is.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
Until there was barely any space left between us.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” he said softly.
“Get what?”
His eyes locked onto mine, intense, searching. “I’m not playing with you, Violet.”
My name on his lips…
It did something to me.
Something I couldn’t control.
“Then what are you doing?” I asked, my voice almost breaking.
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
And suddenly, the air felt too thin.
“Trying,” he said quietly.
“To do what?”
“To not mess this up.”
My heart stopped.
Because that meant—
There was something to mess up.
This was real.
Too real.
“Marcelo!”
The voice shattered the moment instantly.
We both turned.
His little brother came running down the stairs, completely unaware of the emotional chaos he had just interrupted.
“You promised to help me with my project!” he said, tugging on Marcelo’s sleeve.
Marcelo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember.”
I stepped back quickly, trying to regain control of my breathing, my thoughts, my everything.
“Go,” I said, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll… I’ll just start dinner or something.”
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then nodded. “Don’t burn the house down.”
I rolled my eyes. “No promises.”
But my hands were shaking as I walked into the kitchen.
Dinner was… normal.
Too normal.
We talked about school. Homework. Random things that didn’t matter.
But underneath it all—
That tension was still there.
Stronger now.
Like something waiting to snap.
Later that night, I was in the living room, pretending to read while my brain replayed every single thing that had happened.
“You’re doing it again.”
I looked up.
Marcelo stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching me.
“Doing what?”
“Overthinking.”
I scoffed. “I don’t overthink.”
“You literally just turned the same page three times.”
…Okay, rude.
I closed the book. “What do you want?”
He walked in slowly, stopping right in front of me.
“You,” he said simply.
My heart slammed against my chest.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
His voice was steady. Serious.
And that scared me more than anything.
“Marcelo…”
“Tell me to stop,” he said suddenly.
I blinked. “What?”
“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, his voice lower now. “And I will.”
The room went silent.
Because he meant it.
I could see it in his eyes.
This wasn’t a game to him.
Not anymore.
And suddenly, the choice was mine.
I could walk away.
End this before it got messy. Before it got complicated. Before it turned into something I couldn’t control.
All I had to do was say one word.
Stop.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because the truth was…
I didn’t want him to stop.
Not the teasing.
Not the closeness.
Not the way he looked at me like I mattered.
“Violet…” he said softly, like a warning.
Like a final chance.
I shook my head.
Barely.
But it was enough.
And that was all he needed.
He stepped closer—slow, careful, giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
His hand lifted, brushing lightly against my cheek.
Warm. Gentle.
Nothing like the cocky boy everyone thought they knew.
My breath caught.
“Last chance,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes.
And leaned in.
That was it.
That was the moment everything changed.
Because this time—
No one interrupted.
No one stopped us.
No one saved us from crossing the line.
And the second our lips met—
I knew there was no going back.
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