You’re Making the Same Mistake
968 Words
I don’t even realize I’m shaking until the printed paper crumples in my hand.
You’re making the same mistake she did.
The words are thick, red, and enraged. Like they’ve been written in blood.
No envelope. No name. Just sitting there on my bed, taunting me.
I scan the room again, heart hammering. My dresser drawer is half open. My blanket was folded differently than I left it. It’s subtle, but someone has been in here. Someone touched my things.
My pulse roars in my ears as panic creeps into my lungs.
I can’t stay here.
Not when I don’t know who’s watching.
I snatch my phone and keys and run out of the dorm, barely locking the door behind me.
I don’t think—I just go.
Straight to Adrian.
—
He opens the door in a rush, his brows knitting the moment he sees my face.
“Lucy?”
I hold out the paper, my fingers trembling. “Someone was in my room.”
He takes it from me, reading slowly. His expression goes from confusion to fury in seconds.
“You’re sure no one saw you leave?” he asks.
I nod. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I haven’t… talked about us to anyone.”
“Come inside.”
The way he says it, quiet and controlled, makes my knees wobble. I step past him, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I feel.
He closes the door and locks it.
“Sit,” he says, guiding me to the couch. “I’ll get you water.”
I don’t sit. I can’t. I pace instead, trying to process the violation.
“How would someone even get into my room?” I ask. “They had to have a key or know my roommate’s schedule—”
Adrian returns, pressing the water into my hand. “You’re staying here tonight.”
“I can’t—”
“You can and you will,” he says firmly. “Until we figure out who’s behind this, you’re not going back there.”
He’s angry. But it’s not my fault. It’s in the way he stands between me and the door. There is tension in his shoulders, like he’s ready to rip someone apart.
Something in me cracks.
“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I thought I could handle it, but this… this is different. Someone touched my bed. My things.”
Adrian crosses the room in three steps and pulls me into his arms.
It’s instinct, pure and raw. My fingers fist into his shirt. His hand cradles the back of my head. He smells like clean cotton and something darker, like ink and spice and sin.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I swear to God, Lucy.”
His voice shakes.
When I pull back to look at him, something snaps in both of us.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on mine—hot, desperate, claiming. My hands tangle in his hair. He walks me backward until my knees hit the couch and I sink, pulling him down with me.
The kiss deepens, rough and unrestrained. His hand slides beneath my hoodie, warm fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist. I gasp, and he takes the sound like a gift, swallowing it with a groan.
I should stop.
This isn’t smart. Not after what just happened. Not here.
But when his mouth moves to my neck and he whispers, “Tell me to stop,” I don’t.
I arch into him instead, craving the contact, the fire, the him of it all.
His hand moves higher, just beneath my bra, and my breath catches.
Then, he stops.
He pulls away like it physically hurts him.
“We can’t,” he says hoarsely, pressing his forehead to mine. “Not like this. Not when you’re scared.”
I blink up at him, dazed. “But I want—”
“I know,” he says. “I want you too. God, Lucy, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
He stands, breathing hard, and runs a hand through his hair.
“We need to be smart,” he says. “This—us—it already walks the line. One wrong move and you lose your degree. I lost my career. And someone out there is counting on that.”
I nod, even though every part of me aches for him.
“I’ll take the couch,” he says gently. “You can have my bed.”
He disappears down the hallway, leaving me to sort through the mess of my feelings.
I head to the bathroom to clean up, splash cold water on my face, and breathe. Just breathe.
By the time I come out, the apartment is quiet. Adrian’s door is cracked open, light spilling into the hall, but I know better than to knock.
I head toward the guest room when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Unknown number.
My throat tightens as I unlock it.
A single message waits.
You’re already ruined, Lucy. But he doesn’t have to be. Walk away, or I’ll bury him too.
My vision spins.
The paper.
The ink.
The invasion.
And now this.
Liam.
It has to be.
He’s not warning me.
He’s threatening Adrian.
I stumble into the hallway. Adrian appears instantly, his eyes wide when he sees my face.
“What is it?” he asks, reaching for me.
I hold up the phone.
He reads it, and his jaw clenches, lips parting like he’s about to say something but can’t.
And suddenly, the truth is louder than anything else in the room.
Liam knows.
He knows everything.
And he’s going to destroy us both.
- Writer
