Chapter 97 Theatre.

Chapter 97 Theatre.
Onyx.

Life continued, but not the way it was.

I avoided Flynn like the plague, even though it was a little difficult.

Several times, he tried to be casual with me. I pretended to be casual with him too, but no one knew about the brewing tension between us both.

It seemed like one wrong move and everything would come crashing down.

I decided to stay in my lane, forget about Flynn and the emotions I had developed for him, and move on with my life.

But it was difficult.

More difficult than I expected it to be.

More nights than I cared to admit, I stayed awake thinking about him.

His cocky smile.

His piercings.

The neck tattoo that fucking undid me every single time.

What the fuck did he look like when he wasn't pretending to have everything under control?

A weird psycho like me didn't deserve him.

I was okay with the memory of him.

And whenever the feelings disappeared, I always felt this sense of loss.

Like I was never going to properly have him.

I'd never wanted something more.

But he was off-limits.

Not until that day in the theatre.

I had invited him.

Because we had actually begun to get along quite well.

It was as though everything was getting back to normal.

The moment Zyle ran after Monroe, I did too.

But then an arm stopped me, pulling me into the darker corner outside the theatre.

“Hey, let me go. Monroe's hurt!” I screamed.

But there was rage in his eyes.

“She would have kissed him, right?” he asked.

I paused.

“Did she love Nolan that much to kiss my best friend just to spite him?”

Was he always this dumb?

“If you don't stop me, I'll break his legs.”

Whatever that may have meant, I found myself where I had always wanted to be.

I smiled soothingly.

“It's fine. I'm sure she'll break up with him after all she has heard.” I tried to calm him.

It worked like a charm.

The rage in his eyes slowly dissipated.

But then he finally realised the position we were in.

His palms were flat against the wall, with me in the middle.

The closeness finally registered in his head.

Then a look overtook the one in his eyes.

The one I had whenever I thought of him.

That look of pure, undiluted desire.

He drew closer to me.

A little.

As though afraid he was about to break something.

I let him take his time.

I had all the time in the world.

“Nyx,” he called.

Not the usual casual way.

Not the teasing, flirty way.

It was more like a plea.

Like he wanted me to push him away.

“Flynn,” I replied.

He never knew how ready I was for him.

“Kiss me, Flynn,” I demanded.

My voice was no higher than a whisper.

Immediately, his lips met mine.

No urgency at first.

No hunger.

Just a careful acceptance that this was what it was.

But then it grew.

The kiss pulled out the hunger in me.

The demon I had hidden for years, pushing it back down so I wouldn't break him, emerged.

And it wasn't happy.

I deepened the kiss, taking the upper hand.

Flynn's hands fell to my waist, pulling me closer to him.

The urgency seeping into the kiss didn't give us time to breathe.

“Bro, what the fuck?”

With the speed of light, or maybe faster, we pulled away from each other.

Breathing like we hadn't had air for years.

Never had I hated someone for no reason, but this was one of Flynn's friends.

And I was the one caught with his friend outside a theatre.

I dipped my head and wanted to go back into the theatre when Flynn held my hand and pulled me to his side.

“She's mine. Any problem?”

Fuck.

That was fast.

But I always knew Flynn to be a rollercoaster.

“Do you, bro. Peace,” his friend said, backing away.

That was how it started.

He continued to treat me like he always did, but with a lot more romance associated with it.

So, as I sat on the bed, looking at the message, I wondered if Monroe would ever forgive me for the feelings I had for her brother.

I didn't want to lose any of them.

They meant a lot to me.

I cleared my throat.

It was better I told her now that she was happy and all.

I fidgeted as I thought of what best to say.

“Mon, I need to tell you something.”

She still had the look of shock on her face.

She lowered the neatly picked rose and gave me her full attention.

“I…I…”

She looked like she was more interested in whoever sent the package than she was in what I was about to say.

“I…”

Maybe it wasn't the time yet.

Maybe I should hold this secret a little longer.

It wouldn't hurt, would it?

“My boyfriend got me a bag.”

The truth was so heavy on my tongue.

“That's great. Gifts from both our admirers!”

She looked genuinely pleased, and that made it hurt a lot more.

I smiled at her, hoping that when she learned the truth, she wouldn't forget me like she forgot Zyle.