Chapter 12 : Dark Places
HAYDEN’S POV
I knew something was wrong the second I opened the door.
The lights were turned off. Stephen never left the lights off. He hated dark places.
The sound hit me next. A breathy noise that didn’t belong in our living room, in my head, or anywhere near my life.
I froze.
Right there. One hand still on the door handle. My bag slipped off my shoulder.
And then I saw them.
Stephen was standing near the couch, relaxed like he owned the place, like he wasn’t actively detonating something inside my chest. His head was tipped back slightly, his jaw tight, eyes half-lidded in something that looked dangerously close to satisfaction…….and kneeling in front of him was a guy I had never seen before.
It was a stranger who was giving him a blowjob, in our fucking living room.
My stomach turned so hard I thought I might actually throw up.
What the fuck!!!
The stranger shifted at the sight of me, and Stephen’s hand tangled casually in his hair, like this was normal. Like this was a random Tuesday night activity. I could see him trying to push the guy's head for more.
I made a sound. I didn’t even know what it was—anger, disgust, shock but it came out sharp and ugly. The stranger startled and pulled back, half-rising, clearly embarrassed. Stephen didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he looked straight at me and smirked.
That was what did it.
It was not the scene, or the stranger, or the unpleasant situation I had walked into. It was that damn smirk. It was slow, deliberate, and fucking cruel. It was that smirk that told me he did this on purpose.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I snapped, my voice echoing too loud in the room.
Stephen’s lips curved wider, like he was enjoying every second of this. “Relax,” he said easily. “You’re home early.”
The stranger glanced between us, confused. “Uh…..”
Stephen glanced down at him. “It’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t. I felt something hot crawl up my spine, flooding my head. “Get that shit away from me,” I said, pointing without even realizing it. “I don’t want to see this.”
Stephen laughed softly and it made my blood boil. “Oh?” he said. “That’s funny.”
He gently nudged the guy up to his feet, murmuring something in his ear that made him smile and then Stephen leaned down, placing a quick kiss on his mouth like it was nothing.
Like it didn’t matter.
“Come on,” Stephen said, grabbing the guy’s hand. “Let's take this fun to my room.”
He walked past me as his shoulder brushed mine.
I could smell him, his perfume, sweat, and the disgusting smell of sex that twisted my stomach tighter. He paused just long enough to lean in, his voice low and sharp where only I could hear it.
“You might want to put on headphones,” he said. “It’s going to be a loud night.”
And then he was gone. The door to his room shut behind them.
I stood there, shaking
.
My hands were clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. My chest felt like it was collapsing inward, pressure building with nowhere to go.
This was fucked up
I paced the living room like a caged animal, every step heavy, every thought worse than the last. I told myself I didn’t care, this was just Stephen being Stephen. He was reckless, dramatic, and attention-starved.
But then the moaning sounds started.
It was quiet at first, then I could hear them laugh which followed loud moans and the bed hitting the wall.
“Fuck, Stephen…Harder!”
My jaw locked. I was going to throw up if I heard any more of this. I grabbed my headphones, shoved them on, and turned the volume up so loud it hurt, but it didn’t matter. I could still hear it and feel it, like it was crawling under my skin.
He was doing this to hurt me and the worst part? It was working.
I walked into my room, angrily. As I slammed the door tight, hoping it would drown out the screams.
I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, every nerve buzzing. Images I didn’t want replayed in my head no matter how hard I tried to shove them away. I could see Stephen’s smirk, his hand in that guy’s hair as he pumped his dick into the guy’s mouth.
Anger curled tight in my chest, tangled with something uglier. Something I didn’t want to name.
Was it jealousy? The thought made me sit up abruptly.
“No,” I muttered. “Fuck that.”
I wasn’t jealous. I was pissed. There was a difference. Another sound drifted through the wall. “Fucking Stephen….I'm cummming.” I slammed my fist into the mattress. This was my fault.
I thought of Ella and Lilian and the look on Stephen’s face earlier when he slammed the door hard.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion crashing into me all at once. I wasn’t going to sleep, not with this noise.
My phone buzzed on the bed beside me. I grabbed it, grateful for the distraction. It was a text from Lilian .
I want to see you tomorrow. Before football practice.
I stared at the message. Something told me something was off but I brushed it off.
Yeah. Okay.
I typed back before I tossed the phone aside and lay back again, staring at the ceiling as the sounds next door continued, it was faint but relentless.
I’d deal with everything tomorrow but tonight, there was no escaping the fact that Stephen had set a trap and I had walked straight into it.
Tomorrow could wait. Tonight, I breathed through the noise, the betrayal, the ache I refused to name. Stephen had drawn his line, sharp and deliberate, and I was bleeding quietly on my side of it. I closed my eyes, trying to distance myself, and let anger harden into something survivable by morning.
Tomorrow was another day.