One-Night Stand

The warmth of the water matched the fireplace that had been ignited among us. I should feel his breath on my neck, every exhale sending shivers down my backbone. His contact became mild but possessive, and for the first time in a long time, I felt visible, felt wanted.

“Rose,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of desperation and longing. “I want you.”

I appeared into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability that he tried so tough to hide. “Then take me,” I whispered back, my voice constant and full of willpower. “I’m yours.”

Our bodies moved collectively in a dance of passion, the water sloshing around us as we gave in to the preference that had been building up. His lips located mine, and the kiss became deep, complete with unstated phrases and unfulfilled promises.

Every touch, every caress changed into electrification. It became as if time had stopped, and all that existed became the two people. I clung to him, feeling the intensity of his desire to match my personality. The walls that were built up around our hearts crumbled in that second, leaving us uncovered and raw.

The night became a blur of passion and depth. We moved from the bath to the bed, the sheets tangling around us as we explored every other's bodies. His palms traced each curve, every line, as though he was memorizing me, committed the texture of his pores and skin, the taste of his lips.

“Damian,” I whispered, his name a breathless plea as I felt the wave of satisfaction cresting over me. “Don’t forestall.”

He didn’t. He held me near, his actions becoming more pressing, extra determined. It was as if he was seeking to pour all of his feelings, all of his unstated phrases, into that unmarried nighttime. And I welcomed it, embraced it, letting myself drown in the depth of all of it.

Damian tucked me into bed, draping the covers over me with unexpected tenderness. "Sleep," he instructed softly, his tone brooking no disagreement. "I'll be right here when you open your eyes."

As sleep claimed me, I held onto his assurance. In the enveloping darkness, his words were a glimmer of hope, a sign that, perhaps, things could change. And for the first time in quite a while, I let myself trust in that chance.

_______

Feeling the void left by Damian’s absence upon awakening was a heavy blow. I labored to lift myself, my body sluggish and wobbly. The room seemed to sway a bit, a testament to last night's lingering hold on me.

"Rose, get up!" Lucy's sharp voice echoed through my sleep. I turned around to see her already standing beside my bed, arms crossed, with her impatient facial expression.

I struggled to wake up and get my eyes open. I croaked out softly, my voice barely audible. My mouth felt dry, my body weak.

Her eyes bore into me with an intense stare. My throat was parched, my limbs feeble.

Lucy's gaze was intense as she regarded me. "You caused quite a panic last night," she said, her voice a blend of irritation and worry. "What on earth happened?"

I inhaled deeply, attempting to reconstruct the night's events. "The drink... someone messed with it," I muttered, my voice shaking. "The drink was spiked."

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Spiked? With what?"

"I'm not sure," I confessed, my voice choked. "But it made me feel... like I was on fire inside."

With a heavy sigh, Lucy massaged her forehead, clearly agitated. "Any clue who's behind this?"

I shook my head, a wave of embarrassment crashing over me. "No,”

Lucy snorted, her frustration all over her face, “You've got to watch out for yourself, Rose. You can't let your guard down."

I cast my eyes downward, "I'm sorry, Miss Lucy. I had no idea..."

"Sorry don't cut it," she cut me off, her voice stern. "You need to wise up. Do you think you matter to anyone here? You're just another girl. To make it, you need to stay alert."

I nodded, feeling crushed. "I get it."

Lucy's face softened a touch, but her eyes were serious. "Alright. Now, pull yourself together. Taylor and Grace will help you. Someone's coming to see you today."

I gave another nod, my throat tight.

Lucy left the room, her voice trailing after her. "Taylor! Grace! Come help Rose get ready."

The door creaked as Taylor and Grace came in, their faces a blend of curiosity and concern.

Taylor, with her compassionate gaze, came over with a comforting smile. "How are you holding up, Rose?"

I mustered a faint smile. "A bit better, thanks to you, Taylor."

Grace hung back, her arms crossed, her face set in a frown. "We're short on time," she muttered with impatience.

Taylor, with her reassuring presence, helped me up, her touch soft on my tired frame.

"We'll get you freshened up and dressed, Rose," Taylor offered, her voice calming the storm.

Grace's frown deepened, watching us without offering help, her impatience clear.

With Taylor's support, I made it to the bathroom, her steadiness grounding me as we moved through the morning fog. With each step, I felt slightly more prepared to face the day.

As Taylor helped me clean off the night's traces, I had a flashback of what happened between me and Damian the night after. It was so intense, that I was lost in thought till I got distracted by a knock on the door.