Chapter 23 Don't Go
Lana’s Point of View
The sharp, suffocating stench of alcohol struck me the second I stepped into Christian’s room, and my stomach twisted. Instinctively, I lifted a hand to shield my nose to block out the smell.
He was slouched on his usual couch, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. An empty bottle lay discarded on the table in front of him, while an empty glass dangled loosely from his fingers.
“Hello,” I muttered, quickly closing the door, ignoring his drunken form on the couch. I tried to walk off when his voice stopped me.
“When were you going to tell me that Xavier knows about our little secret?” His voice was low and curious.
My feet froze mid-step; a soft gasp slipped past my parted lips before I could stop it. For a second, the world seemed to tilt.
What?
My mind scrambled, desperately trying to piece together where this was coming from—how he could even think that. Slowly, Christian shifted, twisting his body toward me. He draped his arm over the back of the couch and rested his chin against it, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made me stutter.
The accusation hung between us, thick and suffocating.
And I swallowed hard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, forcing the lie past my lips, even as my pulse began to race.
“Your shorts had blood stains during practice,” he stated flatly.
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs. He saw that?
“Xavier covered you up without asking a single question,” Christian continued, his voice calm in a way that made it more terrifying. “That kind of reaction? It only happens when someone already knows something about your identity.”
Silence swallowed me whole. I couldn’t speak.
“So, tell me,” He pressed, stretching lazily before rising to his feet. The casual movement felt like a predator standing after spotting prey. “How does he know? Did you tell him anything?”
“No.”
There was no point lying now. He’d already cornered me with the truth.
“That smart motherfucker,” Christian muttered under his breath as he closed the distance between us.
Each step he took made my lungs tighten. The air felt thinner and hotter.
“So,” he said, stopping just inches away from me, his presence overwhelming, “does that mean you like him now?”
“Like him?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he said, gripping my shoulders and leaning in until our faces were only centimeters apart.
I stopped breathing.
If I inhaled...if I so much as moved, our lips would brush. The thought alone made my pulse spiral out of control.
“And I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Christian continued, his voice lowering, rougher now. “Like there’s something unresolved between you. Something you’re unwilling to share.”
He tilted his head, his lips drifting dangerously close to my ear. His breath was warm. Intoxicating.
“Tell me,” He murmured, “Did something happen when you were alone? Did he touch you… Somewhere he shouldn’t have?”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I stepped back instinctively, but he followed, covering the distance in one stride.
“Christian,” I said, my voice unsteady, “you’re drunk. I think I should come back later.”
I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to create space, but before I could slip away, his fingers wrapped around my arms.
In one swift motion, he pulled me back.
My back hit the wall with a soft thud, and suddenly he was everywhere; one hand braced beside my head, the other still gripping me, caging me in.
Lana, focus.
I scolded myself, desperately trying to steady my breathing, to quiet the wild rhythm of my heart. But my veins felt electric, flooded with something dangerously close to excitement.
I shouldn’t feel this way.
I shouldn’t want the closeness.
And yet… my body wasn’t listening.
After everything he did to me today, I should be mad, I should hate him—but why is my body responding like this, and why do I not bear him any hatred?
Is it possible that I like Christian too?
No, I would rather jump in front of a moving train than like this bastard; besides, I already liked Xavier, it’s not possible to like two men at the same time.
Or was it?
Christian’s face was only a hair’s breadth away from mine, and a shudder escaped me when his hands cupped my cheeks, his fingers tracing the swell on my right eye.
Courtesy of Christian.
I hissed and jerked away from him as quickly as I could, as though his touch burned.
“Does it hurt very much?” he asked quietly.
His voice was low—almost tender. If I didn’t know him, I might have believed he was truly concerned for me. “I’m sorry,” he murmured; the words sounded very strange as they escaped his lips; it felt like they didn’t belong there. “I didn’t mean to hit you in the face.”
A bitter laugh nearly escaped me.
“But you meant to hit me,” I replied, my voice steadier now. “You did the last few times, too. What makes this one any different?”
I tilted my head slightly, studying him. “It was bad the first time. I had nosebleeds.”
His eyes narrowed painfully.
“I only did that because I didn’t know you were a girl,” he confessed.
My eyes narrowed instantly. How did that make it any better?
“So,” I shot back, my voice edged with disbelief, “bullying is acceptable as long as the person you’re hurting is a boy?”
“I don’t care about anyone else,” he replied without hesitation.
The answer unsettled me more than it should have.
“Then why do you care about me?”
“I don’t know.” his hands were rustling in between his hair. “I don’t know what this is.”
“But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that happened,” he admitted softly.
My heart stuttered.
I searched his eyes, expecting mockery. A smirk. Some twisted game. But there was none. Only something raw and unfamiliar—vulnerability I had never seen in him before.
It made my chest tighten.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek, careful now. “So, stay with me today. Don’t go back to Xavier.”