Young Writers Society

As I sat down on the bench beside her, I was conflicted. My sarcastic exterior and aloofness were defenses I'd built over the years. But with Abigail, they seemed ridiculous, and I hated myself for that.

"So, what more can you tell me about your story, princess?" As I spoke, my voice carried its usual banter, but there was an unmistakable undertone of genuine intrigue.

She turned to me, her eyes locking onto mine. There was a newfound vulnerability, revealing a crack in her previous façade. "It's nothing you would understand."

Ouch. She was right. I leaned back, my hands shoved into my pockets. "Try me."

With a sigh, her attention shifted to the vast expanse of stars overhead. "I've spent my entire life living up to my family's expectations, trying to be the perfect daughter, the younger heir to the Winslow empire. But it's been… suffocating… I guess you already know that… I just... I want more than the cage they've built for me…"

A stab of empathy, or maybe understanding, filled me. I rubbed my neck as I fought to regain control of my feelings. "Well, I'm all for saying fuck you to parents."

She turned to me, her eyes searching mine as if trying to decipher my true intentions. She didn't laugh at my antics. Her brows furrowed together, and she uncrossed her legs. "And what about you? What's your story?"

I hesitated for a moment, torn. Ultimately, I let the dark side win and remained vague. "Let's just say life hasn't been kind to me, Abbie. I've had to fight for every scrap I've ever gotten."

She nodded, her expression softening. "Fight, huh? Maybe we're not so different after all."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to forget about the twisted game I had been playing, the plans I had to use her family to my advantage. But I knew better. I knew that desire and ambition were a dangerous concoction, an explosion waiting to consume everything in its path.

As I looked at her, at the vulnerability in her eyes, I resisted the urge to touch her. My fingertips twitched in my pockets. I rubbed them up and down my thighs, cursing their existence. Her honesty, despite her lack of knowledge about me, felt genuine. I wondered what it would be like to return the favor and show my truth to her. I shook my head and knew I couldn't let my guard down, not with her or anyone else.

Instead, I kept a sarcastic grin plastered on my face and continued to conceal my true feelings. "Well, it looks like we're in this together, regardless of if we like it. At least until our projects are done."

Her smile reached her eyes, crinkling them softly on the edges. "Together."

As we sat under the night sky, I knew I was utterly fucked. The free-spirited, lone-wolf version of me had been in conflict, attempting to resist the impulse to surrender to whatever this was. I was not used to giving a damn about anyone, except maybe my grandpa. Did we have a chance for something more? No, that was fucking stupid. I knew that on the blade of desire and manipulation, the line between friend and foe was razor-thin, and one wrong move could lead to someone being cut.

"What are you thinking?" Her voice was small, as if she didn't want me to hear her.

There was a fleeting moment when I almost confessed how she was unraveling me. But I quipped, "Oh, you know, just contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Nothing major."

I stood, surprised, when she followed suit. We walked out, silent, and descended the stairs. As we reached the bottom, her staring had returned. I resisted the smile tugging at my lips. "So, how about we meet at the library tomorrow? We can explore the mysteries of the universe together. Maybe combine the profound with the paintbrush."

Abigail raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Oh, so you're saying we should study the secret connections between Van Gogh and interstellar phenomena?"

I laughed, a sound I hadn't made legitimately in a long time. How easily she plays along and gives me what I dish. "Exactly! And don't forget the cosmic influences on Picasso's blue period."

"All right, it's a date–um, I mean, a study session." Her hand covered her mouth, embarrassed.

"You bet! The cosmic art detectives strike again." I winked at her, and she headed towards her car.

As we parted ways, I was so fucking confused. Why did she come into my life and mess with it? I didn't trust people easily, and I sure as hell didn't let them get close. I couldn't afford to care for people. But with her, it was like I was second-guessing everything. Internally, I felt like two sides of me were fist-fighting in a ring where the winner decided my future. I wanted to distance myself from her, like I did with everyone else, but I couldn't. She had this weird hold on me, and I didn't know if I hated it or secretly loved it. What the hell had I gotten into?