311: The Craziest Feeling

311: The Craziest Feeling
Ella’s POV

The night seemed to slip away too quickly, and yet, every moment I spent tucked away in that quiet corner of the club with Shawn felt like it stretched on forever. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, like we’d never been apart, like the weeks of silence and hurt hadn’t existed. 

I knew I should’ve been heading home—Lily was with Celeste, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome—but being here with Shawn felt so good, so right, that I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

Every time he looked at me, those cyan-blue eyes of his, so calm and comforting, seemed to pull me in deeper. They sparkled with a warmth that made my heart stutter, his smile soft and inviting, like he was seeing me—really seeing me—for the first time in ages. 

And then there was his scent, that woody, intoxicating mix that hit me every time he leaned in close to share a story or a laugh. His touch, too—gentle, warm, his fingers brushing against my hand every now and then, sending little sparks through me. It was overwhelming, in the best way possible.

I didn’t want to go home. Not tonight. I just wanted to stay here, wrapped up in this moment with him.

“You look beautiful, Ella,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something that made my breath catch. His eyes held mine, like he was enchanted, like I was the only person in the room.

I laughed, my cheeks flushing as I ducked my head. “Thanks, but you already said that tonight.”

“Sorry,” he said, his lips curving into a sheepish grin, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I can’t help it. I could say it a hundred more times and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

My heart did a little flip, and I let out a soft sigh, caught in the intensity of his stare. How did he do that? Make me feel like I was the center of his world with just a look? For a moment, I couldn’t even remember why I’d ended things with him. 

What could’ve possibly been so bad about this man—this kind, funny, incredible man—who looked at me like I was everything? The reasons that had seemed so clear weeks ago felt blurry now, lost in the haze of his presence.

I glanced at my phone, the time glaring back at me. It was late—too late. “Um, I really should get going,” I said, forcing myself to stand, trying to take control of the situation before I got lost in him completely. “Celeste’s probably losing her mind with Lily by now. You know how much of a handful she can be.”

Shawn nodded, his expression softening. “Of course. Let me drive you home.”

I started to protest, but as I stood, the room spun slightly—too many mojitos, too much dancing, too much Shawn. My heel caught, and I stumbled, my hands flailing for balance. Before I could hit the ground, his arms were around me, strong and steady, catching me like it was second nature.

“Careful,” he said, his voice laced with concern. His hands were warm against my waist, holding me upright, and when I looked up, his face was so close—dangerously close. 

Our eyes locked, and the air between us felt charged, electric. His breath was warm, his lips just inches from mine, and I could feel the pull, like gravity was drawing us together.

And then it happened. His lips met mine, and the world fell away.

The kiss was everything—soft at first, tentative, like we were both testing the waters, afraid to break whatever fragile thing was happening between us. But then it deepened, and it was like a dam breaking, all the emotions we’d been holding back flooding through. 

His lips were warm, firm, moving against mine with a quiet desperation that mirrored my own. My hands slid up his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself to him as my heart pounded. 

His fingers tightened on my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath mixing with mine.

It was more than just a kiss—it was longing, regret, hope, all tangled together. Every moment we’d spent apart, every night I’d lain awake thinking about him, every time I’d pushed down the ache in my chest—it all poured into that kiss. 

His hand moved to my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin, and I melted into him, letting myself get lost in the warmth, the familiarity, the rightness of it.

We pulled apart when the need for air became too much, our foreheads resting together, our breaths ragged. My lips tingled, my heart racing, and when I opened my eyes, his were right there, searching mine, full of the same hunger I felt.

“Ella,” he whispered, his voice rough, like he was struggling to find words.

I didn’t give him the chance to say more. I leaned in again, kissing him harder this time, letting the desire that had been simmering between us take over. This kiss was different—fiercer, more urgent, like we were making up for all the time we’d lost. 

His hands slid to my lower back, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel the heat of his body, the way his heart was pounding just as fast as mine. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a low groan that sent a shiver down my spine.

It was overwhelming, intoxicating, like we were trying to pour every missed moment, every unspoken word, into this one kiss. The club, the music, the crowd—it all faded away, leaving just us, wrapped up in each other, chasing something we’d both been denying for too long.

When we finally broke apart again, we were both breathless, our eyes locked, the air between us thick with everything we weren’t saying. Shawn’s hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles, and I leaned into his touch, not ready to let go.

“I know a place,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was afraid I’d say no. “Somewhere quieter. Do you… want to go with me?”

My heart skipped a beat. I should’ve said no, should’ve thought about Lily, about Celeste, about all the reasons we’d fallen apart in the first place. But looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel.

“Yes,” I said, the word slipping out before I could second-guess it.

His face lit up, a mix of relief and something deeper, and he took my hand, his fingers lacing through mine. We didn’t talk much after that—there wasn’t much left to say. 

We moved through the club, hands clasped tightly, the urgency between us palpable. My heart was racing, my skin buzzing with anticipation, and as we stepped out into the cool night air, I knew there was no turning back.