42 - ANOTHER ACCIDENT
42 - ANOTHER ACCIDENT
Chapter – Cheryl’s POV
The night air was thick with the scent of spilled liquor and expensive cologne. Laughter and muffled conversations buzzed inside the house I was walking away from, but the sound felt distant, like it belonged to another world—one I no longer fit into.
My heels clicked against the pavement as I reached my car, my breath uneven, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the keys.
I had to leave.
Not just the party. This house. This life. Everything.
I thought I could handle it, that I was stronger now, that high school was nothing more than a bitter memory I’d long buried. But standing there between Aiden and Damon, my past had clawed its way back, dragging me under.
It wasn’t just about Damon’s betrayal or Aiden’s confession. It was about who I had been, who they had made me feel like I was.
The girl who was mocked.
The girl who was humiliated.
The girl who never fit in.
And now?
I was standing in the middle of a twisted fairytale where the prince and the villain kept changing roles, and I wasn’t sure who I wanted to save me—or if I even wanted saving at all.
I couldn’t go back inside, not after everything. I couldn’t go to Aiden’s place either. It would be too awkward. Too complicated.
So I did the only thing I could.
I got into my car.
I needed a hotel for the night. Tomorrow, I’d start over.
A new job.
A new apartment.
A new life.
How refreshing.
I turned the key in the ignition, but the moment the engine roared to life, so did the memories.
Aiden’s lips on mine.
The sheer wrongness of it had made it so intoxicating—the way his lips had been both demanding and hesitant, like he was giving in to something he had fought against for so long.
His hands had gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I had felt every inch of him—his warmth, his strength, the way he wanted me.
I gritted my teeth, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
No, Cheryl. Focus.
“We have to figure this out slowly. With a sane mind,” I muttered to myself, shaking the memories away.
I pushed my foot against the gas pedal and eased onto the road, letting the cold wind slap against my skin as I rolled the windows down.
But it didn’t help.
Because another memory hit me.
The motel.
That night.
Aiden had walked in on me—completely naked.
The way his eyes had darkened, the way his gaze had moved down my body like he was memorizing every inch of me.
I had felt exposed and powerful at the same time.
And now?
Now I missed him.
I missed the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the room.
I missed the way his voice lowered when he said my name.
I missed the way he challenged me, infuriated me, made me feel alive.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I picked up my phone with my free hand, the other still gripping the wheel.
I hesitated for half a second before I did something insanely stupid.
I dialed his number.
My heart pounded as it rang once—
Twice—
Then a voice answered.
But it wasn’t Aiden’s.
“Do you know what time it is?” The voice was groggy, annoyed.
Anika.
A cold wave crashed over me.
I froze, the phone slipping slightly in my grip.
What was she doing with his phone?
Why was she answering his calls at this hour?
A sick feeling twisted in my stomach, and for a moment, I didn’t realize the dog crossing the street.
By the time I looked up, it was too late.
I panicked, yanking the wheel too hard to the right.
The tires screeched against the asphalt.
The world tilted.
The car spun.
My breath caught in my throat as the pole came rushing towards me.
A loud crash exploded through the night.
Metal crumpled.
Glass shattered.
My body lurched forward, my seatbelt digging into my ribs as my head slammed against the side window.
Then—silence.
For a moment, all I could hear was the faint ringing in my ears.
Then the pain settled in—a sharp, throbbing ache spreading through my skull, my chest tight, my breathing uneven.
I blinked, my vision swimming as I tried to process what had just happened.
The phone was still clutched in my trembling fingers, the call still connected.
Somewhere on the other end, Anika’s voice was muffled, distant.
“…Hello? Cheryl? Are you there?”
I let the phone slip from my grasp, my fingers feeling numb.
Dark spots danced in my vision.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I was just supposed to leave the party. Find a hotel. Figure things out.
But now—
Now I was sitting in the wreckage of my car, blood trickling down my temple, my heart shattered for a completely different reason.
Because even after almost dying, the only thing I could think about was Aiden.
And the fact that he wasn’t alone.
Got it! Anika wasn't at the party, so she wouldn’t know about the fight. That means she’s just here because she wanted to be, not because she’s trying to rub Cheryl’s rejection in Aiden’s face. That actually makes it more interesting—why was she there? 👀
Now, here’s the rewritten chapter with that in mind:
Aiden’s POV
I was exhausted.
Not in the way that sleep could fix.
Not in the way a shower could wash away.
No, this was the kind of exhaustion that came from giving a piece of yourself to someone… only for them to hand it right back.
The memory of Cheryl’s face—her wide, uncertain eyes, her parted lips, the way her breath hitched when I told her I was falling for her—clawed at my chest.
And then the way she stepped back.
The way she looked at me like she was afraid of something.
I knew what fear looked like. I’d seen it before. I used to cause it.
And the sickest part? That’s what she saw in me tonight.
Not Aiden, the guy who wanted to kiss her senseless, who wanted to hold her, protect her.
She saw Aiden, the bully.
And maybe—just maybe—she still saw me as him.
I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers clenching at the strands as I pushed my front door open.
And that’s when I saw her.
Sitting cross-legged on my couch like she lived here, a bottle of wine on the coffee table, a bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap.
Anika.
She looked up, smirking as she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Rough night?”
I exhaled sharply. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “Everyone else is busy and I’m bored, thought we’ll hang out” She dragged her gaze over me, as if expecting me to need that.
I didn’t.
I didn’t even answer. Just walked past her toward the bathroom. “I need a shower.”
She chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Fine by me. I’ll pick a movie.”
The second the hot water hit my skin, I exhaled, my muscles relaxing—but my mind?
My mind wouldn’t shut up.
Cheryl.
That kiss.
The way she leaned into me—not hesitantly, not awkwardly, but like she wanted it. Like she needed it.
The way her hands clutched at my shirt, the way she tilted her head, letting me deepen it, letting me pull her in like she was mine.
And then—
Then, the way she let go.
The way she walked away.
And all because—what? Because Damon put his hands on her?
I gritted my teeth. No, it wasn’t just that.
She was scared.
Not of me.
Not even of Damon.
But of everything that came with me.
She might’ve wanted me in the heat of that moment, but when it was over? When reality sank in?
She remembered who I was.
She remembered what I did to her in high school.
And she couldn’t look past it.
I let out a rough exhale, running a hand through my wet hair.
Because the truth was?
I didn’t know if she ever would.
I stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped low on my hips, steam curling around me as I padded back into the living room.
That’s when I saw Anika.
Holding my phone.
Her brows furrowed, her lips curled in irritation as she put it to her ear. “Do you know what time it is?” she snapped. “Who the hell calls this late?”
My stomach dropped.
A sharp, cold instinct clawed at me.
Because I had a gut feeling. A terrible one.
And then I heard her say the name.
“Cheryl.”
I moved before I could think, yanking the phone from her grip, pressing it to my ear.
“Cheryl?” My voice was urgent, demanding. “Cheryl, are you there?”
Silence.
A creeping, heavy silence.
Then—
A metallic screech.
A loud crash.
The sharp, shattering sound of glass exploding.
And then—
Nothing.