When two worlds collide

Chapter Four: The graduation day

One week had passed since that night—since the kiss that had thrown Phoebe’s world into quiet chaos. Exams had ended. Her mind, freed from academic worries, only had room now for one tormenting thought: Wesley Smith.

Since that day, he had vanished. No texts. No calls. No signs of life. It was as if he had kissed her, invaded her soul, and then slipped into a black hole. Maybe he was busy. That’s what she told herself again and again. Maybe.

Now, she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, trying to silence that part of her heart that thudded with anxious expectation. She looked stunning. The red gown Leah had bought her was the kind that made the room stop spinning. Off-shoulder. Flowing. A split that ran from her left foot up above her knee, revealing just enough to be dangerous. Her hair was styled into gentle waves, some strands packed loosely with a white bow, the rest tumbling freely like they had their own story to tell. She looked like a woman ready to conquer the night.

"Phoebe! Leah's here!" her mother called from downstairs.

She turned one last time to the mirror, brushing invisible doubts from her chest.

“Oh my GOD!” Leah squealed the moment she walked in. “Girl! You look like a sin wrapped in silk! Guys are going to be *drooling* tonight.”

Phoebe laughed nervously, tugging at the neckline. “Are you sure this dress isn’t showing too much cleavage?”

“It’s perfect,” Leah said, stepping closer to fix a loose strand of Phoebe’s hair. “Ryan texted. He said he wants to see me today.”

“Ryan?” Phoebe arched a brow. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing, okay?” Leah said, a little too quickly.

“He’s a playboy, Leah. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Phoebe warned.

“*Boy*?” Leah scoffed. “He’s thirty-four, Phoebe. That’s a man. And don’t worry. I’m not stupid. Anyway, speaking of men… what happened between you and Wesley?”

Phoebe’s breath caught. A pause, too long.

“He kissed me,” she said softly.

Wait, what? The Wesley Smith kissed you?” Leah’s jaw dropped. “Girl! That’s not just news, that’s international tea!”

Phoebe shook her head, chuckling despite herself. “You’re crazy.”

“So? Was it good? I need details.”

“I pushed him away. Poured coffee on him,” Phoebe said with a small smile, the memory flickering like a flame.

Leah gasped. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did. After he fed me coffee from his mouth.”

Leah grabbed her arm, gasping even louder. “Phoebe!”

“I know, I know. It was... a moment.”

“You think?” Leah said, eyes wide. “This man literally mouth-fed you coffee and kissed you like a fantasy, and you never told me?! I feel betrayed.”

Phoebe laughed, cheeks flushing pink. “It’s not like anything’s happened since. He disappeared.”

“Girl, you’re in love.”

“Stop!”

Leah only smirked knowingly. Fine I'll stop for now

They grabbed their bags and made their way out, Phoebe’s mom standing by the door. “I transferred some money to both of you. Go enjoy yourselves, but don’t stay out too late.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Phoebe said.

“You’re the best, Mrs. B,” Leah added with a grin as they exited.

The campus was alive—students, parents, photographers. Gowns of every shade floated like waves through the air.

Leah and Phoebe posed for pictures, hugged friends, and soaked in the celebration. Laughter bubbled everywhere until the crowd’s energy shifted. A sleek black car rolled into the school’s front gate.

Whispers. Excitement. Buzz.

Who do you think it is?” someone asked.

“No idea,” another replied, wide-eyed.

“It’s Wesley,” Tasha whispered, appearing behind Phoebe like a ghost.

And then: chaos.

Screams. Swoons. Chatter. Girls literally ran.

“Oh my God! It’s Wesley Smith!”

“He’s even more handsome in person.”

“I can’t breathe... He’s looking this way!”

Phoebe froze. Her heartbeat stuttered.

From the sleek car emerged Wesley—suited, calm, effortlessly commanding the space around him. Cameras flashed. Students crowded. But he wasn’t looking at them.

Ryan appeared beside Wesley, nudging him. “You’re quite the superstar, aren’t you?”

“I hate attention,” Wesley muttered.

“Yeah? Doesn’t look like it.”

Wesley’s eyes scanned the crowd—until he found her.

Phoebe.

She was laughing at something Leah said, her head thrown back, her smile blinding. The red gown clung to her curves, and that damn split revealed just enough of her leg to make his mouth dry. He forgot about everyone else.

He walked toward her, ignoring the crowd, the cameras, the adoration. She noticed him just before he reached her.

Their eyes locked, and in that silent moment, Phoebe felt a crack in the air. She turned away quickly, her smile stiffening as she posed for another picture.

He walked up to her, finally.

“Hey, princess,” he said, stopping beside her.

“Give us a good picture,” he told a nearby student holding a phone, then slipped his arm around Phoebe’s waist. Click.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered against her ear.

She didn’t look at him. “Wasn’t expecting you anyway.”

“Are you mad?” he teased.

“Why would I be mad, Wesley? You kissed me and disappeared. Perfectly normal.”

He smirked. “You’re not as indifferent as you pretend.”

Phoebe walked away into the crowd.

Later, as the ceremony ended and plans for the afterparty brewed, Leah turned to Phoebe with a grin.

“Ryan says we should go to a club. Blow off some steam.”

Phoebe eyed her. “Getting a little close, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start,” Leah laughed. “Are you in?”

“Fine.”

Leah ran off with Ryan. Phoebe stood, considering her ride options. Wesley’s car waited nearby.

“Not your driver,” he called out, nodding to the front passenger seat.

She hesitated, then smirked. “Sure.”

The drive was silent. Intimate. Her dress split open further as she sat, revealing her thigh. Wesley glanced over, sighed, and removed his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“Covering you up,” he said simply.

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t seem to care that day.”

“I didn’t look that day.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“You can believe whatever you want.”

He parked in front of the club.

“Here. Use this,” he said, handing her the jacket again.

“Like I’m a child.”

Inside, the club pulsed with light and sound. Phoebe felt the weight of countless stares. Leah dragged her to the dance floor, where bodies twisted and drinks flowed.

Wesley watched from a lounge seat beside Ryan, sipping whiskey, eyes fixed on her like a lion tracking prey.

A tap on her shoulder.

“Martins?” she gasped.

“Good to see you, Phoebe,” he said, smiling as his hands slipped to her waist.

They danced.

Wesley’s grip tightened on his glass. Martins—his rival. His blood boiled.

Martins leaned in, whispering stories that made Phoebe giggle. Her fingers brushed his chest lightly.

Wesley stood.

In one swift motion, he grabbed Phoebe’s hand and dragged her from the dance floor.

“Wesley! What the hell are you doing”

He didn’t stop.

“Am claiming what’s mine.”

He pushed open a door to a VIP lounge, slammed it behind them, and dropped her onto the plush chair.

“What do you think you were doing?” he demanded, pacing. He downed a shot of whiskey, eyes burning.

“What *I* was doing?” she stood. “You disappear for a week and now you—”

He was on her in three steps. Trapping her against the wall.

One hand cupped her jaw, trailing down her chest, then back to her lips. His thumb brushed the skin above her cleavage. She shivered.

He took another slow sip, and then he kissed her—hard, fierce, claiming. Whiskey on his tongue. Fire in his breath. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a brand.

She broke it. Slapped him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I told you—you’re mine. No one touches you but me.”

“You’re insane. Disappearing. Then showing up like this—”

“Oh, so you *did* enjoy the kiss.” He stepped closer. His voice was low, rough. Dangerous.

She backed away until the wall met her spine.

“What did he say to you?”

“Who?” she breathed.

“Don’t play games, Phoebe.”

Her name. He had never said her name before. Not like that. It sent a jolt through her.

“Someone’s jealous,” she whispered.

He pressed into her. She could feel every part of him. Her breath hitched. Her body betrayed her.

“I’m going to make you forget everything he said,” Wesley whispered in her ear. “The only thing you’ll remember is *me*.”

He kissed her neck. Down to her collarbone. His hand slid to her thigh, fingers brushing up the split of her dress. Her skin burned under his touch.

“I’ll make sure no one else gets to see your smile,” he growled. “No one else gets this body.”

She gasped as he yanked her onto the couch. His hand gripped her thigh. His mouth met her chest.

A knock.

“Phoebe? Are you in there? Your mom called! We’ve got to go!”

“s**t,” she whispered, shoving Wesley off.

She stumbled to her feet, adjusting her dress.

“What am I doing?” she murmured. “What’s wrong with me?”

She didn’t look back. She walked out the door, heart racing, body still aching from his touch.

Wesley sat on the couch, eyes smoldering, sipping his whiskey in silence.

Tonight wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.

Phoebe walked quickly through the narrow hallway of the club, her heels clicking against the marble tiles like thunderclaps in her ears. Her breath was shallow. Her lips still throbbed from his kiss. Her body burned, her thighs tingled, and her mind was chaos.

Outside, the night air slapped her skin. She needed the cold. She needed something to pull her out of whatever madness Wesley had just dragged her into. His touch was still on her—ghostly fingerprints pressed into her thighs, his scent clinging to her like invisible chains. She could still feel the heat of him, how possessive he’d been, how *hungry*.

She should hate him.

She should run.

But instead, she stood there—half-lit by the glow of the streetlight, trembling.

She closed her eyes. Her hands, traitorous hands, slid down her hips, her breath catching as they brushed over the split in her dress. Her thighs clenched involuntarily. She cursed herself. She wanted him. God help her, she wanted him more than she wanted clarity, reason, or even self-respect.

“Phoebe.”

Her eyes snapped open. Wesley was standing in the doorway, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar loose, his dark hair messy from her fingers. He looked like temptation incarnate. And he was looking at her like he wanted to devour her soul.

“I told you this wasn’t over,” he said, voice low.

She stepped back. “Stay away from me.”

“No.”

“Wesley—”

“You don’t want me to stay away,” he said, stalking forward. “You want me to *hurt* you. Don’t you?”

His words sent a chill up her spine. Her legs weakened.

“You want to be ruined, Phoebe.”

She slapped him again. Harder this time.

He smiled.

Her palm stung. Her chest heaved.

“Do it again,” he whispered.

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Hit me again. Pour something on me. Run. I don’t care. But you’re not walking away.”

“Why?”

“Because I already *own* you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You think what happened in that lounge was a mistake?” he stepped even closer, grabbing her wrist, pinning it to her side. “You think that fire between us is just lust? No, sweetheart. That’s *obsession*. That’s something far deeper. Darker.”

He released her.

“I’ve been trying to stay away. God knows I’ve tried. But you? You haunt me. Every second of every day. I smell coffee and I lose my mind. I see red, and I can’t breathe. I dream about you. Naked. Begging. Screaming my name.”

She shook her head, but her body betrayed her again. She was shivering—not from the cold—but from the way he made her feel raw, exposed, and dangerously alive.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she whispered.

He stepped into her space. Again. Closer. Like a shadow she could never escape.

“I’ve *given* you my mind,” he whispered. “And you’ve done nothing but torment it.”

Phoebe’s phone buzzed. She didn’t move.

His fingers slid over her jaw, brushing her lips. She leaned into the touch without realizing. He tilted her chin.

“You wore that dress for me,” he murmured. “You want me to tear it off you.”

“No,” she said. But it sounded more like *please*.

“Yes.”

His mouth was inches from hers.

The club door slammed open behind them, breaking the spell.

It was Leah.

“There you are! I’ve been—” She froze. “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

Phoebe stepped back. Wesley turned, calm.

“No,” Phoebe said. “We were just—”

“Arguing,” Wesley supplied. “Like always.”

Leah didn’t look convinced. “We’ve got to go. Your mom’s freaking out.”

Phoebe nodded, walking past Wesley without looking at him. But she felt his stare follow her, wrapping around her body like invisible fire.

As they drove away, Phoebe kept her face turned to the window. Leah, bless her, didn’t push. But Phoebe could feel the unspoken questions radiating off her like heat.

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

She paced. She showered twice. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her. She lay on her bed in her robe, eyes on the ceiling, remembering every word. Every breath. Every sin he had promised.

She shouldn’t have wanted him.

But she did.

And tomorrow… she knew he’d come for her again.