PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 16 Distracted

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual… and for a few seconds, I didn’t know why.

Then it hit me. Lovena’s voice. Her suggestion. You. I groaned softly, dragging a hand over my face before sitting up on the bed.

“What was she even thinking…” I muttered, though the heat creeping up my neck said otherwise.

Because now that the idea was there, it wouldn’t leave.

I got ready for school on autopilot, my mind running in circles the entire time. By the time I stepped out of the dorm and started walking toward the campus, I was already deep in thought again.

How would that even work? It wasn’t like I could just… decide it and suddenly know what to do.

I frowned slightly, walking past a group of students without really seeing them.

Do I need to… prepare? The question alone made my face warm.

I had no experience. None. Everything I knew was vague, secondhand, or something I’d deliberately avoided thinking about.

Should I… dress differently? Something more… attractive? I glanced down at my usual outfit… simple and practical.

Definitely not that.

“Do I even know what he likes?” I whispered under my breath, half-annoyed, half-panicking.

And then another thought hit me. Do I need a makeover? I almost stopped walking.

“No, that’s ridiculous,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I can’t just suddenly change everything.”

But then again, would it make a difference?

Would he notice? Of course, he would notice. He notices everything.

I let out a frustrated breath, my thoughts becoming more chaotic the longer I let them run.

This is so stupid. Why am I even overthinking this?

Because it mattered. That was the problem. I wanted it to matter.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t realize how close I was to the main building… or the fact that someone was standing right in front of me.

I almost walked straight into him.

“Whoa!”

A hand caught my arm just in time, steadying me before I could collide.

I blinked, startled, then looked up.

Wallace.

He was already laughing. Not loudly, just enough that I could see the amusement in his eyes.

“Well, that’s new,” he said. “You almost ran into me.”

I pulled my arm back gently, trying to regain some composure. “You were in the way.”

“Sure,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “Or you were too busy thinking about something.”

I crossed my arms slightly. “I can think and walk at the same time.”

“Not today, apparently.”

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the slight embarrassment lingering.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, tilting his head just a little.

My heart skipped.

“Oh… nothing,” I said quickly. “Just… random things.”

“Random things,” he repeated, studying me more closely now. “That made you this distracted?”

“Yes.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“No.”

He didn’t look convinced. Not at all. But he didn’t push it.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, though the hint of curiosity was still there. “I’ll let it go.”

“Good.”

We started walking together, falling into step naturally like we always did.

“By the way,” he said, glancing at me briefly, “next week.”

I looked at him. “What about next week?”

“My birthday.”

I paused slightly, even though I already knew.

“Right.”

“It’ll be at the house,” he continued. “Dinner. Nothing too formal, but… important people will be there.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process that. His house. Of course, it wouldn’t just be simple.

“You’ll come,” he added, not quite a question.

I looked at him, raising a brow. “Are you asking or telling?”

“Both.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Confident.”

“I prefer certain.”

I shook my head lightly. “Of course I’ll come. It’s your birthday.”

Something in his expression softened at that.

“Good,” he said.

And just like that, my thoughts from earlier came rushing back. Stronger this time. Because now it wasn’t just an idea.

It had a place. A time. A moment.

I swallowed quietly, looking ahead as we continued walking. This was really happening.

And for the first time since the thought crossed my mind, I wasn’t just confused. I was… nervous.

But also, strangely, a little excited.

I didn’t last long keeping it to myself. By lunchtime, I was already restless, my thoughts looping in circles until I couldn’t focus on anything Lyna was saying.

We were sitting across from each other, trays half-finished, when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence and squinted at me.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said a little too quickly.

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’ve been poking your food for the last five minutes.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she muttered. “Now tell me what it is.”

I hesitated. This was ridiculous. I don’t even know how to ask this.

I looked around briefly, making sure no one was paying attention, then leaned in slightly.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, lowering my voice.

Lyna’s brows lifted immediately. “That serious?”

“Just, answer honestly.”

“Now I’m curious.”

I inhaled, then said it before I could back out.

“Have you ever had s*x?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Lyna burst out laughing. Not a small laugh. A full, uncontrollable one that made a few people glance our way.

My face heated instantly. “Can you not?”

“I’m sorry!” she tried to compose herself, pressing a hand over her mouth, but another laugh slipped out. “I just didn’t expect that from you.”

“It’s a normal question,” I muttered, annoyed.

“From anyone else, yes. From you? No,” she said, still grinning. “You sound like you’re asking for research purposes.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to answer or not?”

“Alright, alright,” she said, raising both hands in surrender. “Yes. I have.”

I waited.

“That’s it?” I said flatly.

“What, you want a timeline?” she teased.

“Yes.”

She laughed again, but this time it was softer. “Fine. I lost my virginity when I was fifteen.”

I blinked. “Fifteen?”

“Relax, it was with my boyfriend at the time,” she said casually. “And before you judge me, I’m on boyfriend number three now, so clearly I survived.”

I shook my head slightly, still processing that.

“And honestly,” she continued, shrugging, “it’s just… part of a relationship. Not everything, but it’s there.”

I went quiet. Because for her, it sounded so simple. Normal. Like it wasn’t something that required overthinking.

Lyna’s eyes narrowed at me suddenly.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Why are you asking this?”

I didn’t answer. Her expression shifted into something more surprised.

“Don’t tell me…” she leaned forward. “Nothing’s happened between you and Wallace?”

I hesitated. Then nodded.

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You’re not just with someone, Nyra. Your boyfriend is Wallace Rachford! He is literally a manwhore.”

“Yes,” I said, a little defensive now. “And he is nothing like that to me. Be careful with your words.”

“Oh, sorry…” she pouted.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“No… no, it’s not,” she said quickly, though she still looked shocked. “I just thought, you know… with how he is and how you two are…”

“He never forced it,” I cut in. “Not even once.”

That seemed to settle something in her.

“Okay,” she said more quietly. “That’s actually good.”

I looked down at my hands for a moment, then back at her.

“I just…” I started, then stopped.

“Just what?” she pressed gently this time.

I exhaled.

“His birthday is next week.”

Lyna blinked. “And?”

“And I don’t know what to give him,” I admitted. “And then Lovena said something and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What did she say?”

I hesitated again, then muttered, “That I should give… myself.”

There was a short pause.

Then Lyna leaned back slowly, her expression shifting… not teasing this time, but thoughtful.

“And what do you think about that?” she asked.

I didn’t answer immediately. Because that was the problem.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Part of me thinks it makes sense. And another part of me feels like I’m not ready.”

Lyna studied me carefully.

“Then don’t do it just because it’s his birthday,” she said. “Or because someone suggested it.”

I frowned slightly. “But what if I want to?”

“Then ask yourself why,” she replied. “Is it because you trust him? Or because you feel like you should?”

That made me pause. Because there was a difference. A big one.

“I just don’t want to get it wrong,” I admitted quietly.

Lyna softened a little. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest with yourself.”

I let that sink in.

“But also,” she added, a small smirk returning, “you overthink everything. So maybe stop analyzing it like it’s an exam.”

I let out a small breath, almost laughing.

“Not helpful.”

“It is,” she said. “You just don’t like it.”

I shook my head, but I could feel some of the tension easing. A little. Not completely. Because the question was still there. Lingering. Waiting.

And I still didn’t have a clear answer.