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"It's not safe," he insisted, his brow furrowed in disapproval. A scoff escaped my lips, a bitter laugh that echoed in the air.
"And who are you to lecture me on safety?" I challenged, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You, who have caused me more harm than good?"
His face contorted, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "Whether I care or not," he started, his voice tight with tension, "it's clear that what you're doing is foolish."
"I happen to like being foolish!" I retorted, my voice rising in anger.
"Well, I happen to prefer when you're not," he countered, his jaw clenched tight. "Now, get in my car and let me drive you home."
His words hung in the air, a stark demand that reeked of control. I looked at him, at the man who had once held my heart in his hands and shattered it into a million pieces.
"No, thank you," I spat, each word dripping with icy venom. "You've already inflicted enough damage on my life. Just release me!"
But Dax, as stubborn as a mule and twice as strong, held fast to his grip. He paid no heed to my protests, his resolve as unwavering as the steel in his eyes. With a force I couldn't resist, he led me towards his sleek black SUV, the stares and whispers of onlookers following us like a swarm of flies.
This sudden act of "kindness" confused me more than anything. His touch felt like a brand, a reminder of the chaos he had brought to my life. The humiliation of the situation was almost unbearable. I was on display, a live performance for the voyeuristic eyes around me.
The mere thought of being labeled the "girl Dax kissed" or, worse, the catalyst for Tresa's heartbreak was enough to make me shudder. The weight of those imagined words felt like a physical burden, dragging me further into the abyss of everyone's disapproval.
I was no harbinger of bad luck, no villain in their fabricated story.
Yet, here I was, caught in the crosshairs of their judgment, a victim of their twisted narratives. The anger burned within me, hot and intense, threatening to consume me whole.
Chapter Three
Dax
A tense silence filled the SUV as Skye stared resolutely out the window, her back to the curious stares of those outside the club. Her expression mirrored a storm brewing inside her – a mixture of embarrassment at the public spectacle and shame for the kiss that had propelled her into this awkward situation. If only she knew how much I had actually enjoyed it, a secret pleasure that tasted even sweeter than the forbidden fruit itself. Honestly, the thought of kissing her again sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
My friends, still reeling from my unexpected act of kindness towards Skye, exchanged confused glances. They knew me as the arrogant bully, the affluent kid who had once thrived on making Skye's life miserable. But something had shifted within me, a change I myself couldn't fully comprehend. The mere thought of Skye hating me forever was a weight I couldn't bear. No, her hatred was a punishment I did deserve, a burden that weighed heavily on my conscience.
Skye continued to keep her head bowed, using her hand as a shield against the world's judgmental gaze. Her defiance, though admirable, only fueled the fire of regret that burned within me.
"Where do you want me to drop you off?" I asked, my voice betraying the turmoil within me.
"here," she replied, her voice curt, laced with a steely resolve.
"Is this what I get for trying to throw you a lifeline?" My voice cracked, frustration warring with the desperate hope I was trying to project. Her skepticism was a brick wall I was failing to break through.
"Yes," Skye spat, her gaze hardening. "Because I know your sudden sunshine act is just another twisted way to mess with me."
"But I told you, I want things different!" The words tumbled out, each syllable a plea. "I want to..." I faltered, the sheer enormity of my desire to actually be good for her clogging my throat.
"Change? Oh, please, Dax," she scoffed, her laugh devoid of humor. "That's the oldest trick in your playbook."
"It's not a trick, Skye," I insisted, my hands clenching. "I'm not talking about turning into some saint. I'm still me, the same annoying, irreverent Dax you know, but maybe..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe with a twist."
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of curiosity battling the entrenched skepticism. "A twist?"
"Yeah," I spread my hands, uncertainty clouding my features. "Something unexpected, something to throw you off guard."
"Sounds more like a recipe for disaster," she muttered, her voice laced with doubt. "I don't believe you're capable of changing for the better."
"I didn't say 'better,'" I corrected, my gaze unwavering. "I said for you."
A flicker of something, maybe surprise, maybe hope, danced in her eyes. "And why would you do that?"
I swallowed, the truth a bitter pill on my tongue. "Because... I don't want to hurt you anymore."
