Chapter 8
1940 Words
Daphne’s POV
Stefan wasn’t supposed to see Adrian and me kiss.
The thought claws at my chest as I knock on his door for the second time. I’ve searched the entire house. If he’s anywhere, it’s here. I lift my hand to knock again, but the door swings open before my knuckles land.
“Daphne?” Stefan says, surprise flickering across his face.
My mouth opens—then Bella steps into view behind him.
Her lipstick is smudged, no longer neat and perfect. My gaze drifts back to Stefan before I can stop myself. The same shade of red stains his lips, uneven and unmistakable. Heat rushes behind my eyes. I school my expression, forcing my face into something neutral, even as envy coils tight in my chest.
“Let me guess,” Bella says lightly, smoothing her dress. “Mom sent you to look for me.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I should go.”
She brushes past Stefan and reaches for my hand, her grip firm. “You can’t tell her I was here,” she whispers.
I nod, pasting on a faint smile that feels brittle. As we walk away, I glance back once. Stefan’s eyes meet mine. For a heartbeat, the world narrows—then my chest tightens, and I turn forward again, breaking the connection.
We find Mom quickly. She talks—about something important, judging by her tone—but the words slide right past me. All I can see is Bella’s smeared lipstick. All I can think about is Stefan standing there, marked by her.
It hurts more than I expect.
“Daphne.”
My mom’s sharp voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Did you get what I said?”
I smile automatically. “I heard you, Mom.”
She studies me, unimpressed. “If you did, you wouldn’t still be standing here. Go get Bianca.”
I nod and walk away, my steps quickening down the hallway. I dial Bianca’s number. No answer. Again. Still nothing.
I stop in front of her room and push the door open.
My breath catches.
Bianca is kissing Adrian.
My eyes widen before I can stop them. “Hmm.”
The sound makes them jump apart instantly.
“Oh my God,” Bianca blurts out, her eyes wide as she hurriedly straightens her dress. “Daphne, it’s not what it looks like.”
Adrian, meanwhile, only leans back, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
Figures.
I’d always known he was an asshole. I just hadn’t realized how effortlessly he wore the role.
“We were just—” Bianca starts.
“Making out,” I cut in calmly. “And probably would’ve f****d if I hadn’t walked in.”
The words come out flat. No anger. No shock. Just truth. Surprisingly, I don’t feel disgusted—just tired.
Bianca opens her mouth again. “Hear me out, it—”
“Save it,” I say, then turn to Adrian. “And you—do you go around kissing everyone?”
His smirk deepens.
“You kissed me earlier,” I continue, my voice tightening now. “And now you’re kissing my best friend.”
Disgust curls through me, sharp and unmistakable.
This time, I don’t bother hiding it.
“What the f**k?” Bianca snaps, folding her arms. “You kissed her?”
“Yes,” Adrian says easily. “I mean, you would too. Have you seen her lips? Soft, plump, and—”
“You are disgusting.” Bianca cuts him off, her voice sharp. “I guess this is why they say you should never meet your idol.” She points toward the door. “Get out of my room.”
“You don’t have to be so harsh, I was just—”
“Out.”
The word lands like a slap. Adrian lifts his hands in surrender and heads for the door, but just before leaving, he turns and winks at me.
I don’t react.
The door clicks shut, and Bianca sinks onto the bed, her shoulders slumping. She rubs her palms against her thighs like she’s trying to wipe away regret.
“I’m so stupid,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have done that. Please don’t be mad at me.”
I walk over and sit beside her, the mattress dipping under my weight.
“Why are you apologizing?” I say lightly. “It’s not like Adrian is my boyfriend.” I shrug. “And besides, he’s a jerk.”
She exhales but still avoids my eyes. “I know, but… he’s interested in you. And I still kissed him.”
I blink—then laugh. The sound escapes before I can stop it.
“Trust me,” I say, shaking my head. “That man is definitely not interested in me.”
Her brows knit together. “Stefan brought him here for you. You didn’t know?”
The laughter dies instantly.
“What?” I blurt out.
“Yes.” She tilts her head, studying my face. “I thought you knew. Actually… I should’ve realized you didn’t, because I know for a fact you don’t like men.”
I stare at her. “Wait. What did you just say?”
Bianca straightens, suddenly serious. “I’ve wanted us to have this talk for a while, Daphne. We’re Bestfriends. You can tell me anything—I won’t judge.” She hesitates. “I know you’re into women.”
My eyes widen as I push off the bed and stand. “Where did you even get that idea?”
She stands too, fidgeting. “You never talk about men. And the way you look at women sometimes, I just thought—”
Realization hits me. “Wait.” I narrow my eyes. “Is that why you kissed me? To confirm it?”
She winces. “Uh… yeah.”
I let out a breathless laugh, pacing a step away before turning back. “You are unbelievable.” I stop in front of her. “I don’t like women, Bianca. I like men. Okay?”
“Oh.” She sinks back onto the bed. “My bad.” An awkward laugh escapes her. “Guess I got that completely wrong.”
I sit beside her again, my voice softer now. “I don’t talk about men because the only man I’ll ever love belongs to someone else.”
Her mouth falls open. “Wait—are you serious? Who? Do I know him? Who is it?”
I grin. “He exists only in my imagination.”
She groans. I laugh and grab her hand. “Come on. My mom’s been looking for you.”
She squeezes my fingers, and together we head back to the party.
The night passes smoothly—too smoothly. Laughter, music, faces blending together.
But Stefan never appears.
And no matter how hard I try to focus on anything else, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to talk to him.
“Mom and I are heading home,” Bella says, slipping on her heels. “Will you be sleeping over, or…?”
“I’ll stay,” I reply quickly. Then, lowering my voice, “Please tell Mom that Bianca and I have an early class tomorrow. I won’t be able to come home.”
Bella smiles like she knows exactly what I’m doing. “Got it.” She waves before disappearing down the hall.
The truth is simple—I won’t have peace tonight if I don’t talk to Stefan.
Back in Bianca’s room, she’s still buzzing from the Adrian situation. She keeps laughing about how we both kissed the same guy in one night, like it’s some kind of twisted achievement. I nod when I have to, smile when expected—but my mind is elsewhere.
With Stefan.
Only Stefan.
“Can you sleep in the guest room tonight?” Bianca suddenly asks.
I blink. “Why?”
She grins wickedly. “Babes, I’m insanely horny and need to blow off steam. Unless you’d prefer an audience while I masturbate?”
I grab a pillow and fling it at her. “f**k you.”
Her laughter follows me as I leave the room.
The hallway feels longer than usual. My feet slow as I near Stefan’s door, doubt creeping in. He made it clear earlier—I shouldn’t be here.
So why am I standing in front of his room?
Before I can overthink it, I knock.
The door opens almost immediately.
“Daphne,” Stefan says quietly, stepping out and glancing down the hall. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Please,” I whisper. “We need to talk. I promise I won’t bother you again.”
He studies my face for a moment, jaw tight. Then he exhales. “Fine.”
He steps aside and lets me in.
The door closes behind us, the click echoing in the silence. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This is it. I can’t back out now.
“Stefan,” I begin, forcing calm into my voice, “you shouldn’t have brought Adrian here.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Why? You were all over him just hours ago.”
The edge in his tone makes my chest tighten. Jealousy—sharp and unguarded—slips through despite his effort to hide it.
“He kissed me,” I say firmly. “I didn’t kiss him.”
He shakes his head. “What does it matter?”
“It does,” I reply, my voice quieter now. “I don’t want you thinking I just go around kissing anyone.”
“Daphne,” he snaps, “I don’t f*****g care who you kiss.”
But his eyes betray him—dark, restless, searching mine like he’s afraid of what he might find.
The air between us shifts, thick and charged.
I take a step closer.
Neither of us looks away.
“You f*****g care,” I say—and before he can deny it again, I slam my lips onto his.
For a split second, he freezes.
Then he kisses me back.
Hard.
His hands come alive, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. He pulls me closer, lifts me effortlessly, and sets me down on the counter without ever breaking the kiss. Our mouths move together, desperate, unrestrained, the quiet room filling with uneven breaths and muffled sounds.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark—lost.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks, his voice rough, strained. “Why can’t I resist you?”
I smile, because if I don’t, I might fall apart. My heart is racing, pounding so loudly I swear he must hear it. If only he knew—how long I’ve wanted this, how deeply I already feel it.
I kiss him again.
This time, there’s no hesitation. No restraint. The kiss deepens, slows, turns heavier with meaning. He eases my clothes away, careful and unsteady all at once, and when I stand bare before him, his gaze moves over me like a touch—slow, reverent, undone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.
He lifts me again and places me gently on the bed, but I feel it—the way his body tenses, the way he’s holding himself back. Like he’s standing at the edge of something dangerous.
I reach for him, fingers curling into his shirt, refusing to let him pull away.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “f**k me!”
- Writer
