MY BEATING HEART

CHAPTER 2- Warning signs

When I saw the message, my heart sank, guilt creeping in as I realized I had no good reason for avoiding him. His words lingered in my mind:

"You didn’t offend me," I replied hesitantly.

"You and I both know that’s a lie," he shot back. "You’ve been avoiding me all month, ignoring my calls."

"I’m not avoiding you," I tried to insist. "How do I prove it?"

"If you’re not avoiding me," he challenged, "meet me at my place at 6 tomorrow evening let's just sit and talk".

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

The next day passed in a blur. After classes, I rested, anxiously watching the clock. By 6, I was dressed and ready, heading to the school garden, our designated meeting spot. When I arrived, he was already there, waiting casually in sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt.

He looked effortlessly cool, his demeanor calm and approachable. My eyes betrayed me, wandering from the hood draped over his head to his sneakers, and then back to his face. His lashes caught my attention—long, thick, and enviably pretty. It was almost unfair that a man could possess such beautiful eyes.

As I stood there, I felt a strange mix of nerves and intrigue. This wasn’t just a meeting—it was the start of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for, yet couldn’t seem to walk away from.

Seeing him in his sweatpants and casual wear, he looked so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected—yet undeniably hot. His presence was magnetic, and as I walked towards him, his intense gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

"Do you want to go towards the garden? Let’s take a walk," he said as I reached him. I nodded, unsure of what else to do.

We strolled along, talking about random, light-hearted topics, but as we walked, I noticed something strange. The path we were taking seemed deliberate, precise.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

"My house, of course," he said with a casual shrug.

I stopped in my tracks. "I didn’t plan on going to your house."

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and replied, "Oh, okay."

Feeling a wave of uncertainty, I said, "Walk me back to my hostel."

"Sure," he agreed, his tone light but his eyes intense.

On the way back, the tone of our conversation shifted. His questions became more personal, delving into territory that made my cheeks flush.

"When was your first kiss?" he asked, his voice teasing but curious.

"Have you had a boyfriend before?"

Each question seemed to peel back a layer, and I couldn’t tell if I was flattered or wary. There was something disarming about him—a mix of charm and unpredictability that kept me on edge.

He asked about my first time, his voice low and curious. I hesitated before replying, "I’ve had my first kiss, I’ve had my first boyfriend... but I’m still a virgin."

When I said it, his eyes lit up, almost as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He smirked slightly, his gaze turning darker, more alluring, as he ran a hand through his hair. With a calm, almost sensual tone, he asked, "So, if I were to have you, would I be your first?"

My heart raced, my chest tightened, and I struggled to process his words. My brain felt like it short-circuited, and the only thing I managed to stammer out was, "How about you?"

He leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more reflective. He began telling me about his past relationships—his exes, their dynamics, and, most notably, his recent breakup. "I was her first," he said, "but she became... too much. Demanding, controlling, paranoid. I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I ended things."

As he spoke, I felt an odd uneasiness settle over me. The way he talked about his exes made me wonder about the full story, but I brushed the thought aside. After all, this encounter wasn’t meant to mean anything more. By tomorrow, I told myself, he would be just a fleeting memory.

We reached the entrance of my hostel, and I turned to head inside when he gently grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. His voice was low and steady, almost as if he were reading my thoughts.

"If you go now," he said, his gaze locking onto mine, "I have a feeling I’ll never see you again. I’ll never get to do this with you again. So, let me just ask—will you be my lover?"

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, taken aback by the boldness of his words. Flustered, I managed to whisper, "No."

He chuckled softly, an easy, confident laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "I won’t give you time to think about it," he said, leaning closer, his voice both teasing and serious. "But here’s an idea—walk back to my house with me. Think about it as we walk. And if you decide you don’t want to, I’ll walk you right back here, no questions asked. But..."

He paused, his eyes piercing through me. "The moment you step foot into my house, you become my lover. No turning back."

His words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. My mind raced as I tried to process what he had just said, caught between the thrill of his challenge and the warning signs blaring in my head.

"I won’t walk back to your house, and I won’t be your lover," I said firmly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Why would I? Why do you even want to be with me?" I asked, my voice sharp.

He stared at me, his gaze unwavering, and said, "Why wouldn’t it be you? I’m not asking for a relationship. I just want to be with you. We’ll satisfy our desires, and it’ll end there. If either of us catches feelings, we walk away."

I shook my head, disgusted and defiant. "I’m not doing that with you."

"Why not?" he challenged, his tone calm but probing. "Are you scared you’ll fall for me?"

"No," I snapped.

He smirked, his expression maddeningly confident. "Well, I won’t blame you. You wouldn’t be the first, and you definitely won’t be the last."

His words cut deeper than I expected, wounding my pride. In a moment of irrational defiance, I muttered, "Fine. Sure. Let’s go. I’ll still think about it."

We walked in tense silence back to his house. When we reached the front door, he stepped inside and turned to face me, standing just past the threshold. His eyes bore into mine.

"Well," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "What’s your choice going to be?"

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I instinctively stepped back. His lips curled into a faint smile. "Are you trying to run away? Or have you already fallen for me?"

The smugness in his tone set my blood boiling. Without thinking, I stomped into the house, fueled by anger and pride.

If only I had known better. If only I had turned back when I had the chance.