Chapter Twelve: Confessions in the Dark
596 Words
Scarlett didn’t know what was worse—
The fact that she had to go to Blake’s place again for the project…
Or the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She tried to focus, tried to keep her distance.
But it was impossible.
Every movement he made, every subtle smirk, every brush of his arm as he handed her papers—it felt like it was meant to set her heart racing.
Once inside his house, Blake offered her a drink.
“Something light,” he said casually.
Scarlett smiled, trying to act cool.
But she didn’t realize just how much the alcohol would loosen her carefully built walls.
One sip turned into two… then three…
Before she knew it, the world tilted softly.
Her words, her thoughts, were spilling out like water through a dam she hadn’t meant to break.
“I…” she slurred slightly, cheeks flushed.
She laughed, head tilting back.
“I can’t… I can’t even pretend anymore.”
Blake raised an eyebrow, watching her with that unreadable, dangerous intensity.
“Can’t pretend what?” he asked quietly.
Scarlett’s eyes softened.
“I like you,” she admitted, voice trembling but honest.
“I… really do. And it scares me, and I hate it, but I can’t stop thinking about you…”
She paused, leaning back against the couch.
“You make me… I don’t know… feel things I didn’t know I could.”
Blake’s lips curved into the faintest, pleased smile.
“Good,” he murmured.
“Because I like you too.”
Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat.
She giggled softly, leaning her head back.
“I mean it,” she whispered.
“Everything I said—I meant it.”
Blake leaned closer, eyes shining in the dim light.
“Good,” he repeated, voice low.
“Because I meant it too. All of it.”
Hours passed.
Scarlett fell asleep in his bed, exhausted from the drink and the whirlwind of emotions.
Blake stayed close—not touching, just watching her sleep, breathing her in quietly.
Morning came.
Sunlight slanted through the curtains.
Scarlett stirred, waking up slowly.
She wanted to talk, to ask him about last night…
But before she could say a word, a wave of nausea hit her like a bomb.
She bolted upright, running toward the bathroom.
Blake followed immediately.
“Scarlett—wait!”
She barely registered his voice, bending over the sink as she threw up.
Blake gently pulled her hair back, murmuring softly.
“It’s okay… it’s okay,” he said, steady and calm.
His hand brushed against her wet hair.
His presence grounded her.
When it was over, Scarlett leaned back, breathing heavily.
Her eyes roamed the bathroom, wide and impressed.
“Your house…” she muttered, voice shaky.
“It’s… huge. Glamorous. I mean… it’s amazing.”
Blake chuckled softly, leaning against the doorway.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Glad you noticed.”
Scarlett laughed softly, biting her lip.
“And… I knew everything I said last night,” she admitted, cheeks burning.
“I meant every word.”
Blake’s eyes softened as he stepped closer.
“Good,” he said simply.
“Because I meant everything I said too. About liking you.”
Scarlett’s chest tightened.
Her heart thumped.
Her stomach fluttered.
She smiled, a little embarrassed but completely honest.
“…I like that,” she whispered.
Blake only chuckled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
“Me too,” he murmured.
And for the first time, Scarlett felt… safe.
Truly safe.
- Writer
