THE GIRL IS MINE

THE BLACKOUT

Stiles Point of View

🌸

Isabell lay motionless on the couch, her fragile body enveloped in a warm blanket. Though she had regained consciousness, her eyes remained closed. A delicate frown creased her brow, relaying her discomfort.

Dave and I stood by her, our concern etched on our faces.

"We need to get her out of her wet clothes," Dave said, his voice laced with urgency.

"I know, but how?" I asked, unsure. "We can't just..."

Dave nodded in agreement. "But we can't leave her in those wet clothes.”

" That's true, but we can't change her, either," I said. "Or do you have any suggestions?"

"None that I can think of right now," Dave responded.

We both heaved a sigh and folded our arms across our chests simultaneously. Mum wasn't home at the moment; she would have been the perfect person to play such a role. I wondered if taking her back home would be a good idea or a bad one. At this point, she was shivering, her skin was flushed, and her forehead burned with a rising fever.

"I'll do it," I told Dave, making up my mind. Her safety and health were the priority at the moment.

"Really?" Dave asked, appearing dazed.

"Yes," I replied.

"I'll excuse myself then," he said, scurrying out of my room.I walked over to my wardrobe, opened it, and retrieved a set of pajamas. I returned to where she lay, squatting down beside her. I positioned myself at her level, our faces inches apart. She was putting on a pink top and jeans trousers. With tender care, I lifted the hem of her top, easing it upward. I carefully slid my arm beneath her, supporting her shoulders as I lifted her slightly. Her body felt fragile in my grasp, as I guided the shirt over her head. I ensured my focus remained fixed on her face, avoiding gazing at her shirtless body. With the damp top removed, I gently laid her back down on the couch, her head sinking into the pillow. I set the discarded shirt aside. My breathing quickened, becoming erratic, as I struggled to keep my gaze on her face. My heart pounded in my chest, the rhythm echoing in my ears. I replaced her removed damped shirt with my pajamas slid-down button shirt, guiding her right arms through the sleeve, I gently slid my hands beneath her neck, lifting her up with tender care as l passed the shirt beneath her, once successful with that, l slid her right arm on the other side of the couch into the other sleeve.I pulled the fabrics together and started fastening the buttons while still trying hard to maintain my gaze on her face. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief after buttoning the shirt, but my task was far from over. The remaining struggle was her trousers, the most daunting part. She wore skinny blue jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, showcasing her slender legs.

I shifted my position, my eyes locked on her upper body. My fingers grazed the edge of the jeans, my fingertips barely touching her skin. A shiver coursed through me, my pulse quickening.

With deliberate care, I began to gently pull the trousers down. The fabric slid smoothly over her skin, revealing a glimpse of her delicate thighs. My fingers brushed against her legs, sending sparks through my veins.

I fought the urge to look down, to run my hands down her smooth skin, feeling the warmth and softness. Instead, I focused on the task, carefully maneuvering the jeans over her hips, down her legs, and finally, off her feet. The air seemed charged with tension as I worked. Every touch, every glance, felt amplified. I ensured my movements remained gentle, respectful, and detached, despite the flutter in my chest. I carefully laid the damp jeans beside the discarded top. Next, I reached for the soft pajamas bottoms, I guided her legs into the comfortable fabric, the smooth material gliding over her skin. With tender care, I pulled the pajamas up, securing them around her waist. The elastic waistband settled snugly, embracing her curves.

I stood up, relief washing over me like a wave. She should be better now, I thought. Just then Dave opened the door and walked in, his eyes moving straight to the couch where Isabel was lying.

“What a nice job you’ve done” he commended, a hint of surprise in his voice seeing her already in her transformed clothes. And l rolled my eyes at him, a wry smile twisting my lips, walking away from him.

“Her temperature is on the high side” l commented, already moving to address the concern. I walked out of the room, returning with a bowl of cool water and a small towel. I placed the bowl of water on the locker beside my bed, walked over to the couch, lifted her up, cradling her in my arms. Her body felt fragile, her skin warm against mine. I walked towards my bed and gently lay her on the soft foam.

“This should be better” l said, reassurance etched on my face. I immersed the small towel in the bowl of water, the water rippling around it. Gently squeezing out excess water, I placed the damp towel on her forehead and damped her neck with it also. I repeated the process until the hotness cooled down.

“The fever has come down a bit” I said, proud of the result, after checking her temperature. “This would do for now, I need to inform her mum” I announced to Dave, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind me. I reached into my pocket, my fingers closing around my phone. I typed "Mrs. Lucy" into the search bar of my contact list, and her number appeared on the screen. I dialed it, the phone ringing once before she answered.

"Hello, Stiles," her warm voice echoed through the line.

"Hello, Mrs. Lucy," I replied.

"How are you doing?" she asked, genuine concern lacing her words.

"I'm fine, thanks. I called to inform you that Isabella is at my place. She caught a fever," I explained.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, alarm rising in her tone.

"She was fine at noon when she left for your place. What happened?" Mrs. Lucy asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"We had an argument, and she ran off. The rain started suddenly. I don't know what happened after that. I ran after her and found her lying on the ground. I took her home and noticed she had a fever," I recounted.

"How is she doing now?" Mrs. Lucy asked, concern etched in her voice.

"I managed to bring down her temperature," I reassured her.

"Thank you for taking care of her, Stiles. Bring her home when the rain subsides. I'll call work and take some days off to properly look after her," Mrs. Lucy instructed.

"I will do just that," I replied.

“Alright Stiles” she replied, and the call went off from her end. I turned the door knobs and re-entered the room. Dave sat beside Isabella, his eyes fixed on her.

"How is she?" I asked, concern etched on my face, as if I'd been away for hours.

“She is fine though her temperature seems to be rising again” Dave said, his brow furrowed. I rushed to her side to feel her temperature.

“What did her mum say?” Dave asked, his voice low.

“She asked me to take her home after the rain had subsided”, I replied.

🌸

Isabella’s Point of View

🌸

I opened my eyes, groggily scanning my surroundings. The familiar ceiling and walls of Stiles' room came into focus. I tried to remember how I got here. Memories flooded back: Jake's departure, the painful discovery, the argument with Stiles, and the rain. Running through the downpour, feeling lost and alone. Then, nothing.I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. Stiles' worried face appeared above mine.

"Hey, take it easy," he said softly, his hand gently guiding me back onto the pillow.

Dave's voice drifted from the background, "Maybe we should get her home, Stiles."

I closed my eyes, the darkness enveloping me once more.

🌸

Stella's Point of View

🌸

I swung open the door to find Steve standing on my porch, exuding confidence in his fitted denim jeans and leather jacket. Despite being drenched by the rain, he looked effortlessly handsome. Droplets of water clung to his hair, trickling down his face, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Why keep staring at me that way? Won't you invite me in?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

I realized I'd been transfixed, gazing at him for what felt like an eternity. "You can come in," I said finally, trying to sound nonchalant.

Steve's gaze lingered on mine, his lips curled into a playful smile. "What's making you amused?" I asked, my cheeks warming.

"You invited me, yet you're not making way for me to come in," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Feeling flush, I stepped aside, attempting to compose myself. "Come in, Your Highness," I taunted, trying to mask my embarrassment.

Steve's eyes glinted with mirth. "You don't expect me to come in dripping wet, do you?" He slipped off his jacket, revealing a clingy white shirt that accentuated his chiseled chest. The damp fabric molded to his body, making my pulse stutter.

I couldn't help but stare, my anger momentarily forgotten. Steve's chest rose and fell with each breath, captivating me.

Snapping back to reality, I recalled my irritation. "Why do you always love making a fool out of me?" I asked, my voice rising.

Steve's smile faltered, replaced by surprise, he seemed taken aback by my sudden outburst. . He stood there, mouth agape, as I hissed and strode away, leaving him standing alone in the doorway.

My door creaked open, guessing it was Steve. I didn’t turn to look at him, neither did l pay attention to his movements. I remained half-reclined on the bed, my back against the mattress, face upturned to the ceiling, with one leg dangling towards the floor. My focus was consumed by my phone.

Steve's gentle voice broke the silence. “You didn’t just leave me in the doorway” he said, hovering above me, just then I noticed how close he had gotten. He took my phone out of my hand and placed it on the empty part of the bed beside me, eliminating any distractions. Our eyes met, his gaze intense. Steve's breath caressed my face, sending shivers down my spine. His lips brushed against mine, and I melted into a kiss. Our mouths moved in harmony. He slumped on the empty space beside me, with a gentle tug, Steve pulled me onto his chest, wrapping his arms around me, our bodies entwined. We remained in that position for what could have seemed a long time but felt like but a short moment to me. I really wanted to remain this way, just me and him. I felt his chest rise and fall, his heartbeat synchronizing with mine.

"Steve?" I called softly, ensuring he was awake.

"Yes, baby," he replied, his voice low and husky.

I sighed in relief, my tension easing. I snuggled closer, resting my head on his chest.

"Stella," he said, his voice hesitant.

"Yes?" I replied, looking up at him. But he remained silent, lost in thought.

I wondered excitedly if he was about to confess his feelings.

Then, his expression changed. "Can I get a quickie tonight?" he asked, winking.

I flared up, taken aback. "What do you take me for, Steve? A p********e?" I demanded.

Steve's questioning appearance only fueled my anger.

"Don't give me that look," I warned. "You came all this way, drenched and concerned, just to ask for s*x? Why can't you say you love me? Why do you keep treating me this way? Why won't you take me seriously?" Tears streamed down my face as I fired off the questions.

Without waiting for his response, I stormed out into the rain, my heart heavy.

I expected Steve to chase after me, but he didn't. The realization stung: he didn't love me.

The rain pounded against me, but I pressed on, determined to escape. My feet would ache eventually, but I couldn't return to that house with him there.

Just as I thought I'd escaped, I heard my name. I stopped, hoping it was Steve, but it was Jake who appeared.

"Hi Stella," Jake said softly, concern etched on his face. "Where are you coming from? And you're crying, what's wrong?" I hadn't realized tears streaming down my face until he mentioned it. I hastily wiped them away, but Jake's empathetic gaze told me he'd already seen.

"Nothing," I muttered, trying to brush it off.

Jake's eyes narrowed. "You had an argument with someone, didn't you?"

His questioning gaze lingered, and I remained silent.

"I guess it's Steve, right?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

My silence was all the confirmation he needed. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, smiling warmly.

Everyone at school knew my feelings for Steve, but he seemed oblivious.

Jake's comforting hug enveloped me, and I felt my tension ease.

"Let's get out of here," he said, leading me to his bike. "I have a place in mind."

Jake settled into the bike’s seat, his eyes meeting mine as he handed me a black helmet. “Hop on”, he gestured.

For a moment, I hesitated. Going with Jake wasn’t my first choice, but returning to that house felt unbearable. With no other destination in mind, I could as well use a distraction, I thought. I took the helmet, the scent of leather and faint hint of Jake's cologne wafted out. Jake's gaze lingered, ensuring I was settled. With a deep breath, I swung my leg over the bike and settled behind Jake. He stepped on the gear and the engine roared to life.

"Hold on," he called over the rumble of the engine. The bike surged forward, pressing me into Jake's back. We arrived at a place, and he led me into a house that was old-looking and deserted.

"Do you know who left here?" I asked, amazed at the way he entered and made do with things like he owned them.

"It belonged to my late grandpa. I loved him and that's why I visit here from time to time, because this reminds me of him," he said with a pained expression.

"I am sorry for your loss." He nodded, handing me pancakes. "Thanks," I said.

"Feel at home," he said. We giggled and laughed for some time.

"Stella, there's something I've wanted to say for a long time now," Jake said, his voice low and nervous.

I turned to him, feigning nonchalance. "Yes, what's that?" I asked, picking up a fluffy pancake from the plate.

Jake's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze sincere. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The pancake slipped from my fingers, landing with a soft clatter on the plate. What should I tell him?

🌸

Isabella's Point of View

🌸

I opened my eyes again, this time finding myself in my room. For how long have l zoned out? At this point, l could feel my head banging. I tried sitting up, but my efforts seemed vain as l winced in pain. Just then, the door flung wide open and revealed my mum.

“Easy there, honey” she said, rushing to my side as she supported me.

“How did l get home?” I asked, confusion etched on my face, as there was no memory of that in my head.

“Stiles brought you home at seven pm last night when the rain subsided.” She explained. “You didn’t do as much as open your eyes till this moment. I actually feared l would lose a daughter“, my mum added as she flung her hands in the air dramatically.

“Come on mum” I said, giving her a ‘you can’t be serious' look.

“What the hell happened?” She asked, concern lining her face.

“Stiles didn’t tell you anything?” I countered.

“He only told me you both had an argument, you ran off, and he found you slumped on the ground” she recounted.

I took a deep breath. “He left mum” l said.

“Who left?” Mum asked, looking puzzled.

“Jake left” I repeated, the ache in my chest resurfacing.

“Where did he go?” She asked, confusion deepening.

I shook my head, “I don’t know about that, mum. I went to his place to have a word with him and his mum broke the news to me.”

Mum’s eyes widened in understanding “Oh, sweetie…” she cooed pulling me into a warm hug.

My eyes welled up with tears “he left me, mum. I don’t know if l will get to see him or when that will ever be.”

"Calm down, honey," Mum said softly, patting my back. She gently pulled me back, gazing into my eyes. "You shouldn't be upset now; you have a fever, and this will only worsen it."

"You shouldn't cry over a guy; there are many wonderful ones out there. You'll meet one soon and forget Jake," she added.

"Mum," I nudged her, pulling away from her embrace.

"What is it, honey?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

"I only want Jake," I said.

"Sorry, dear. He'll come back for you," Mum said, attempting to calm me down, pulling me back into her embrace.

Then, her expression changed. "Wait, honey, did you say Jake left?" she asked, as if the news had just sunk in.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mum."

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed.

"What's wrong, Mum?" I asked, lifting my head to look at her.

"Your dad is going to whoop my ass," she added, making me chuckle.

My dad wasn’t in support of my relationship with Jake; he never liked him. Mum, aware of my feelings, tried convincing Dad, but he wouldn't budge.

I recalled their heated conversation, which almost escalated into a fight for my sake.

"Honey, give her a break. Let her be with whom she wants," Mum said.

"I'm not against her being with whoever she chooses, but definitely not that kid," Dad replied defiantly.

"I have done my research; Jake grew up in love. He'll treat her right," Mum protested.

“That doesn't necessarily mean he'll treat her well. He doesn’t look like one who would treat her right.” Dad portrayed.

“What the hell about his appearance made you draw such a conclusion?” Mum asked, surprised at dad’s hypothesis. “You should know better not to judge a book by its cover. Jake seems a nice guy.” Mum argued.

"I'm not saying he's not nice," Dad clarified. "But I don't want him as her boyfriend."

“You are proving that with this action of yours, you don’t trust your daughter's ability to make choices. You should trust her judgment.” Mum added.

“You shouldn’t be reminding me of that. I let her make choices of what she wants and l always make sure to get them. Even as an adult, we don’t make the right choices all the time, so it’s normal to say she is making the wrong choice this time around. If things turn sour with this choice of hers, it will definitely affect her deeply.”

“You can’t protect her this way. She clearly has to make mistakes and learn from them.”

“So you agree this is a mistake she is making?” Dad questioned.

"Not necessarily," Mum replied. "I am only stating if things go wrong, she'll learn from it."

“I don’t want her learning through heartbreak” dad said.

“I trust her choice” mum stated firmly.

"You're letting our daughter be with him?"

"Yes, I support them as long as she likes him," Mum confirmed.

"If he breaks her heart, I'll hold you responsible," Dad threatened, walking away.