2

Melissa

A couple of months earlier.

"Are you insane, Timothy?!" I pushed my boyfriend away, straightening my clothes that he'd tried to remove. "Did you seriously think I'd agree to sex with you in a storage room?"

He rolled his eyes, emitting that familiar frustrated sound. "I'm so fed up with this, Melissa!"

"With what exactly?" I frowned, arms crossed.

"We've been together for over a year, barely being intimate," he growled.

"Oh, you expected me to let you have your way with me between my legal analysis and procedural law classes?" Sarcasm dripped from my words.

Timothy and I started dating in our senior year of high school, becoming prom king and queen. But honestly, I couldn't tell if Timothy was more of a friend or a boyfriend. Despite enjoying his company, I never felt the passionate desire everyone talks about. Our first sexual encounter happened after eight months of dating, mostly because Timothy insisted, but there were no fireworks for me. It left me feeling awful because I cared about him and our relationship, yet the spark just wasn't there. I thought it might have been due to the scars left by my past bad experiences. My ex-boyfriend had hurt me deeply, leaving an indelible mark on my soul.

After graduation, Timothy and I ended up at the same university, chosen for us. Being the daughter of this year's gubernatorial candidate in California, Derick Atkinson, I had little say in my own life. Everything was already planned out for me – my education, my future career, even my boyfriend, whom I initially had no clue about. So yes, I was one of those privileged kids who got into Stanford University due to my family's social status. And even though I had no real desire to pursue a law degree, my father believed it was best if I followed in his footsteps and became a lawyer, or even better, a politician.

"I don't know what you want," Timothy growled, snapping me back to reality. "But it's driving me crazy that my girlfriend won't let me touch her!"

“Timothy—” Before I could finish, he stormed out of the dark, dusty storage room, slamming the door behind him.

“Very mature.” I let out a deep sigh. I had no time or energy to deal with this crap. I was up all night cramming for that legal analysis exam. I fixed my clothes and left for the next dry as dust lecture.

AFTER SCHOOL, I TUCKED myself under a soft, white blanket. I’d had one of those bad days when you wanted to sink into your bed, hoping no one would ever find you. But despite the thick walls of my bedroom, I could still hear my parents arguing—again. I covered myself with a furry pillow, pushing it onto my head. Even that didn’t make their shouting or throwing dirty names at one another stop ringing in my ears. I hated their fights, and those would happen daily. My parents’ marriage was of convenience, not love. And I was their only child, so I was stuck in this toxic swamp all alone. Or maybe it was better I had no siblings? At least there was no extra person who’d have to suffer everything I had. I could never understand why my mother wouldn’t just drop everything and run away from that monster, a.k.a. my father, burning all the bridges after her. Especially after everything he’d done to her. Or maybe, I wish I had done that myself? And yet there I was, trying to survive yet another day in this luxurious life of mine… that behind the closed doors of this hell of a mansion called our home wasn’t luxurious at all.

I heard a loud door slam, followed by my mother’s heels clicking on marble stairs as she headed downstairs—finally, no more screams. I took a deep breath, crawling out of my bed that felt like my fortress, helping me survive all the wars this house had witnessed. I reached out for my phone and saw a few missed calls from Timothy, and one text from Sasha, my best friend. I chose to ignore the calls from my boyfriend and, heading up to the bathroom, unfold the entire message Sasha sent me.

From: Scar

Hey, boo! Will u make it to the party tonite?

We’re at Mike’s.

Sent Friday 5:52 PM

I sighed, not feeling the Friday night vibe as a nineteen-year-old girl like me should. But the truth was, I’d rather go out than stay in this dreadful place, risking being an invisible partaker in yet another quarrel. I quickly freshened up and was ready to leave about an hour later. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, amazed at how a little bit of makeup and a sexy outfit could boost one’s self-perception. I tended to be very insecure about myself. I blamed my emotionally unsteady childhood for that because my mother would never tell me I was beautiful like my friends’ mothers would do. I’d been struggling with my low self-esteem ever since I recall. It felt like I was fighting my own war with the demons. Demons slumbering inside me, waiting for the least convenient moment to come out and destroy the self-confidence I desperately tried to build all over again. But that wasn’t the case tonight. I smiled at myself, satisfied with how I looked. I slipped a black minidress, with a straight neckline cut out in the middle, over my naked breasts, pleasingly tightening them. The V-cut on the left bottom gave some sultry to its design. I brushed my lips with my favorite Dior gloss in a medium nude shade and drew a simple cat line over my eyelashes, enhancing my look.

To: Scar

I'm on my way, S.

Sent Friday 7:18 PM

I typed the quick response and hit send, leaving for the party.

"Shall I wait for you, Miss Atkinson?" my chauffeur inquired as we neared Mike's residence. "No need, you can head back home," I replied as he stopped outside my friend's house, the booming music likely audible throughout the neighborhood. "Are you certain, miss?" Gregory glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, his hazel eyes meeting mine. The freckles around his eyes hinted at a smile. At times, it seemed he fretted over me more than my parents did. I never viewed him solely as my chauffeur; there was a bond between us, akin to that of a grandfather and granddaughter. It was a connection I had never experienced due to not knowing my grandparents. Despite its warmth, it stung to realize that a stranger cared for me more than my own mother, and certainly more than my father did.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks, Gregory,” I said and got out of the car.

I looked at the two-level loft with massive windows through which I could spot my friends having wild fun, and suddenly, all the confidence in me faded away. I took a deep breath as the overwhelming feeling of anxiety rushed over my body. I forced myself to smile and somehow moved forward.

“MELISSA!” SASHA SPOTTED me from afar and, squeezing between some people I’d never seen before, greeted me with a hug. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Unlike me, Sasha was a life-of-the-party girl who adored being the center of attention. Taking a sip of her martini, she scanned my face with her extraordinary emerald eyes, perfectly matching her fair, freckled complexion and wavy hair dyed a copper shade of red.

“Haven’t you seen my text?” I arched my eyebrow, smiling.

“Oh, God, no.” She giggled, struggling to swallow the sip she’d just taken, her cheeks flushed. She was tipsy, no doubt. “Sorry. I don’t even know where my phone is.”

Sasha grabbed me by my elbow and led me to an enormous living room. There was an open drink bar, a leather couch by the see-through glass wall, and at least three hundred square feet of space in the middle where some people were dancing. The room was dim, with a few colorful flashing lights glistening against the ceiling giving the club vibe to this place. I glanced across the area, searching for Timothy. I spotted him drinking his whiskey. He seemed immersed in thought, not paying much attention to people cheerfully laughing around him. Among others, Mike, who was overly gesticulating while enthusiastically telling something, and Audrey, one of my friends. She stood by Timothy’s right arm, cooing at him. Sasha quickly picked up on my mood as I involuntarily clenched my jaw, watching my so-called friend hitting on my man.

“You’re not jealous of Audrey, are you?” Scar said, biting on her lower lip teasingly while a sarcastic smirk formed on her face. She grabbed a drink from a bar countertop behind us and fetched it for me.

“I’m not,” I said dryly, drinking the martini she handed me in one go. My eyes were still on Audrey, whispering something into Timothy’s ear, and a playful smile appeared on his face.

What did she tell him that he suddenly looks so amused?

“You know that Timothy is head over heels for you, Mel.” Sasha nudged my elbow.

“I know. It’s just… I don’t trust Audrey.”

Scar chuckled softly as if what I said was funny. But I hadn’t felt like laughing. I was anxious because I’d had a bad feeling haunting me that night. And in most cases, my female intuition was pretty reliable.

“Well, why don’t you just go over there and get your man?” my ruby-haired friend asked, but I didn’t even have to answer. It took her only one glance at me, and she knew. “Oh, you two fought?”

She must’ve noticed the distress on my face.

“Yeah,” I sighed, casting my eyes downward to the ground.

“You guys have been fighting a lot lately.” Her gaze was penetrating me. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” I said shortly and looked up to face her. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Timothy was now looking in my direction.

His gaze lingering on my skin made my stomach clench. My heart was telling me to go over and kiss him to end our infantile quarrel. But then, something stopped me, urging, it was him who should make the first move. And that something, whatever it was, won. I turned on my heels and headed to the backyard. As I was squeezing through the crowd of people, I heard two random dudes shouting to one another, obnoxiously checking me out from head to toe.

“Have you seen Melissa Atkinson?” A pale-skinned guy with sunflower-blonde hair leaned toward his friend before gulping his beer.

“Who wouldn’t notice that ass, bro?” the friend scoffed. “Fucking hot!”

And I knew Timothy heard them too because when I fleetingly peeked in his direction, he was glaring at me with the kind of gaze I knew far too well. He was seething with jealousy.

I STOOD ON THE PORCH, deep into my thoughts with my eyes glued to the starry sky. Chilly air was sweeping across my cheeks, causing goose bumps on my body.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” I heard a familiar voice whispering in my ear as warm hands slid around my waist from behind. I didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. I knew the scent of sandalwood with a hint of geranium hitting my nose by heart. I turned to face Timothy. He looked like a lost puppy begging me to help him find his way back home.

“I’m sorry, Melissa. I acted like a dick earlier today,” he said with an apologetic tone.

“You did act like a dick.” I smirked, gazing into his coffee-colored eyes. The moonlight illuminated his wavy, fair hair, ideally done in a tapered way. But even his gorgeous face wouldn’t make up for his behavior earlier today. I still had in mind how he left me in that gross storage room looking like a five-year-old baby that hadn’t got the toy he desperately wanted. That was one trait that I genuinely hated about Timothy. Whenever he didn’t get what he wanted, he would just sulk.

“Can I make it up to you somehow?” he said, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“Well… I might forgive you if you kiss me now.” I smiled at him, and his face lightened up. I couldn’t be mad at him for too long. It just didn’t sit right with me. I wasn’t the one to hold the grudge, even if, at times, I should have.

He slowly leaned in, sliding his hand at the back of my neck. His warm lips gently brushed over mine. “You look so hot tonight. I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered against my lips, our breaths mingling before closing the tiny gap with a kiss.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Mike’s raspy voice broke in our tender moment. “Get a room!” he joked, showing off his white teeth beautifully contrasting his ebony complexion. One of his dark dreadlocks fell onto his forehead as he took a few deep gulps of his beer.

"Are we okay?" Timothy inquired, his gaze locking onto mine as he slowly pulled back. "Guess you can't resist, huh, bro? But you two are gonna miss out on the party!" Mike's playful jab made me blush. I glanced back at Timothy, who rolled his eyes in irritation. I grinned and took his hand. "We're fine."

With that, I led him back inside. About an hour later, I was onto my third drink and feeling lightheaded. I usually avoided alcohol, so it didn't take much to affect me. The party was in full swing, and I was chatting with Sasha and Teresa, a friend I had legal analysis workshops with. I scanned the room for Timothy but couldn't spot him. I wanted to ask him for a ride home. I knew his driver was waiting because we always did that. I'd send Gregory away, and Timothy's driver would stay.

“Have you seen Timothy?” I asked the girls.

Teresa quickly checked out the room before replying, “Nope.”

“Maybe he went somewhere with Mike? I can’t see him either,” Sasha added.

“Yeah, I’ll check outside. Maybe they went for a smoke.”

“Yeah, probably.” Sasha smiled. “Want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I’m fine. I need to use the toilet on my way there.” I gave the girls a reassuring look and set aside the drink before following toward the restroom.

The toilet on the ground floor was occupied, so I decided to go upstairs. I knew Mike’s place because he used to throw parties nearly every Friday. Besides, he was my boyfriend’s best friend, and sometimes we hit his place. With each step up the stairs, the loud music playing downstairs seemed to fade away. I could finally hear my own thoughts. I was about to get inside the washroom, but something stopped me. I heard moaning coming from one of the rooms. It wasn’t something unusual. People hooked up at parties, but this time was different. I felt a cold shiver sweeping down my spine, realizing it was Audrey’s voice whining my boyfriend’s name.

My heart started racing like crazy as I walked over to the door leading to Mike’s bedroom. The closer I’d get, the louder I’d hear the moans. I grabbed the doorknob and slightly opened the door. My hands were shaking. I was not ready for what I was about to see. My eyes grew wide, and I gasped in shock. I saw Timothy and my narrow-waisted friend making out. Both half-naked.

“Shit! Melissa?!” Timothy’s face fell as soon as he spotted me, gawking at them with my jaw dropped. “It’s not what you think!” He tried to devise some ridiculous excuse while hurriedly buttoning his fly, but before he managed to put himself together, I stormed out of there faster than a speeding bullet.

TEARS WERE RUNNING down my face as I was running down the street. I didn’t know where or for how long. I kept running, holding my expensive Louis Vuitton high heels in my hands, and my perfectly done makeup was likely ruined. The picture of my boyfriend’s hand sliding down Audrey’s tanned belly, disappearing underneath the silk fabric of her panties, her shiny, chocolate-brown hair falling at her arched back as she sighed in pleasure while running her fingers through Timothy’s golden hair while he planted hungry kisses down her neck, kept haunting me all the way here, whenever I was. With each passing second, the excruciating pain tearing my heart apart intensified. I’d never felt so broken before, and believe me, my life had been fucked up just enough to make me experience all kinds of shitty feelings. I could barely see through my watery eyes, and I hadn’t noticed the car approaching me from across the street. Then just when I thought it would hit me, I heard a loud screech of brakes as the driver managed to stop an inch before me.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” he shouted at me before he even managed to step out of the car. I couldn’t guess if he was more shaken because he almost hit me with his speeding car or more furious that I ran right in front of it, risking destroying his brand-new, shiny black Bugatti. But, as soon as our eyes met, he kind of… froze.

And that’s when I met him. The most handsome man I’d ever laid my eyes on with the kind of piercing blue eyes that told me I should run the other way.