━━━+*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ━━━

You'll see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burning it down

Wildest Dreams (Taylor Swift)

ꔫ

Another day, another round of interviews.

I didn't think they could get harder but they did. I kept reminding myself to take deep breaths.

I could do this.

I would prove to my father that I wasn't stupid. But would I reach the Oxford students' level of IQ? That was a question I'd rather steer away from answering.

And I did my best to avoid Cyril. Apart from our shared room, we didn't have any opportunities to meet up which I was grateful for. During my free time I usually hid somewhere to go over the theory once more so that the professors would be satisfied with me.

And when the interviews were finally over for today, I gladly returned to the comfort of my room in hopes that Cyril wouldn't have the same idea. He probably was somewhere out, flirting with other girls.

One more day to go and then I could return to my old habits back at Maxton Hall.

I pulled out my phone from my jeans pocket when it received a notification.

kingoftheworld04: so? have u talked to that mysterious guy?

drawingprincess74: Not yet.

kingoftheworld74: r u playin hide n seek or what?

I rolled my eyes, chuckling.

drawingprincess74: It isn't as easy as you think.

kingoftheworld74: or maybe it isn't as hard as YOU think

My fingers hovered above the keyboard. He was right. I had to admit to myself that I was a coward. Maybe Cyril would have a good explanation. Maybe...

kingoftheworld74: i know u can do it, princess

drawingprincess74: Thank you, prince ;)

I was biting back a wide smile as I put down my phone and hopped in the shower.

ꔫ

The sun was starting to set down as I was sitting on the windowsill, staring at the art in the sky. My fingers were holding a pencil that was outlining the scene outside on the paper of my sketchbook. Despite the stressful day, by the evening everything became calmer and you just breathed in the peace, thankful to be witnessing such a magical occurrence.

Then I heard the door open and Cyril appeared. He walked inside, dropping his bag on the spare bed.

"Hi," he greeted me shortly and he made his way over to the bathroom.

It was now or never. I had to do this. I could do this. Prince – my new nickname for that mysterious guy from the account – believed in me and it was time for me to believe in myself too.

I waited for him to return to the room. I had already put down my sketchbook and nervously stood up.

"Vega," I uttered his name when he came back.

Thankfully he hadn't showered yet because I wouldn't be ready for the next conversation if he were to exit the bathroom with a single towel on him.

His steps faltered. "Yes?"

I put my hands together because I had no idea what to do with them. "We need to talk."

"Look, I don't care what you've been told but I didn't beat up anyone today, alright?"

"No, that wasn't–" I sighed. "Why did you attack Paul?"

He scoffed. "Are you seriously asking that?"

I nodded.

"Because he deserved to get his ass kicked."

"Please."

"I'm stating facts here, Betty," Cyril insisted and he took a couple of steps toward me. "After everything he has done to you, a couple of punches were merciful."

My eyebrows flew up in disbelief. "You call that merciful?"

"Yes, I do."

"You and I have different meanings of the word merciful then."

His belief that violence was the answer irked me so much. It reminded me of my mom's words when she used to warn me not to get together with a man that found pleasure in physical violence – no matter how much money he possessed. She never revealed whether she was speaking from experience but the way she was so adamant about it always pushed me to think that she had been through more than she showed.

And despite the fact that I had no mark after it, the slap I received from my father was something I couldn't forget, having not been raised a hand against before that.

The last thing I needed was another violent man in my life.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes! Because beating someone up isn't right! Only a person as shallow as–" I stopped myself before I could fill the missing words.

"Go on, Betty. Finish that sentence. Say what you truly think about me. Let it all out," he encouraged me.

I bit my lip, looking at everything but him. I glanced at the ugly painting of an apple hanging on the wall. Then my eyes landed on my messy suitcase next to my bed. My vision jumped from one thing to another until it fell back at the beginning.

At Cyril.

"Okay, you know what? Fine!" I threw up my arms. "Only a person as shallow as you would think that violence solves each of their problems. I told James to not take care of Paul because I was totally capable of that myself. This way you just assured Paul of his assumptions about the two of us."

He took another step toward me which got him almost too close. "And what are his assumptions, Betty?"

"That– that– that's not important," I snapped back. "The problem is that you had no good reason to attack Paul."

"And saving your dignity isn't a good enough reason? Come on, Betty!"

"No!" I exclaimed. "None of your actions make sense, Vega!"

"So they don't? Quit lying to yourself, Beatrice! I don't believe for a second that you can't feel the same thing I've been feeling for weeks now!"

Suddenly, every thought had disappeared from my brain, only his last sentence lingering there as a ghost that wouldn't leave. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us!"

"There isn't any us! It's understandable that you're a little bit protective of me because James is your best friend but this is getting way out of hand! It isn't normal!"

"Do you think I don't keep telling myself the same thing over and over again? When I close my fucking eyes and picture you sleeping just a few inches away from me, wishing I was beside you to be able to hold you? Wishing that I could wrap my arms around your body the way I did when we were chasing those damn birds?"

I forgot how to breathe. This conversation just took a turn I didn't see coming.

Cyril's words had the effect of a gunshot because suddenly silence embraced us. His rush got him catching his breath while I could barely remember to take one.

Slowly, I shook my head. "You're lying."

He let out a humorless chuckle. I waited for him to say something more. To add something. I wanted him to give an explanation because if he thought that he could shout out those words and leave it just like that, he was wrong.

But he remained silent.

And suddenly, he cut the remaining distance between us with one long step and before I could utter a word of surprise, his hands grabbed the side of my face and his lips crashed into mine.

My body reacted quicker than my brain could. My hands flew out and touched his face while my lips flawlessly returned the kiss, deepening it.

I wanted more.

No. I craved more. And that realization was as shocking as the fact that Cyril had just kissed me.

But just as abruptly he pulled me in that abruptly his mouth disappeared.

"Does this feel like I'm lying?" he breathed out.

I closed my eyes, feeling his hot breath on my nose.

"Look at me, Betty."

I did. Our eyes met and the look on his face left me speechless. There was a mixture of adoration and craving.

"Betty."

I would be lying if I claimed I couldn't feel his lips on mine. Because the sensation that overlapped me the moment our mouths connected was something I had never felt before this. Not even with Paul.

But I couldn't let my rational thoughts be flown away by the wind that he brought with him.

"We can't," I uttered.

"Why do you keep telling yourself that? Betty."

The way he said my name was pleading for me to fall for his charm. To give in.

"This doesn't change the fact that you punched Paul," I whispered, finding enough strength in me to resist him. "I– I don't, I can't have another violent person in my life."

I felt his hand freeze on my face. My eyes closed again.

"Who, Betty? Did someone hurt you? Tell me."

I remained silent.

"Did Paul...?"

I instantly shook my head, afraid that he'd lose his mind again. "No."

Now I was regretting my choice of words. I wished I could go back in time and never start this conversation. That would erase what had just happened.

Cyril took a sharp breath, earning my full focus as I looked at him. "It's your dad, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. It seemed like I underestimated his thinking.

"James came to school with a cut on his mouth the other day but he said it was nothing," he said, mostly for himself and I didn't interrupt him. "And your mood was also different than usual. Betty, what did he do? Did he hit you?"

I felt tears pricking my eyes and I blinked them away but that allowed one drop to escape and slide down my cheek. Cyril's finger was quick to gently brush it off. His touch was as soft as a feather.

"Betty, please tell me. What did he do to you?"

"It was just a slap," I told him because his reaction indicated that the pictures in his head were far more serious than reality. "Really, it was his words that hurt the most."

He clenched his jaw. But he couldn't do anything. My father was a person it wasn't recommended to stand up against.

Cyril's hands were still on my face and at last I leaned against his touch, finding some kind of comfort in it.

"You thought I was like him?" he voiced. "Betty... God. I would never hurt you. Let alone a woman. I don't want you to be afraid of me because I would sooner cut my hand off than raise it against you. If I had known... I'm so sorry."

I felt something opening wide inside of me. His words had the kind of effect I didn't know was possible. With them he somehow managed to reassure me that each of my doubts were meaningless when it came to him.

I brought my hands to his face again and this time I was the one who kissed him. I was the one taking control and he was letting me.

Our kiss was slow. And gentle. I took my time exploring his lips and he was patiently doing the same. I tasted alcohol which could mean he was in the bar before returning back to this room.

Our room.

Fates could be laughing at us now, thinking how they arranged this situation.

Today Cyril was wearing a white shirt and I thanked him silently as my fingers slowly reached for the top button.

"We don't have to," Cyril whispered into my mouth.

"I want it," I assured him.

And I really did. Because he wasn't the only one with fantasies of us two together. And now that he admitted his true feelings, what could be stopping us? What could get in the way of the pull that brought us together?

Cyril allowed me to unbutton his shirt and once I was done, I took in the sight of his naked chest. This was my second time seeing it if we didn't count my dirty dream and once again I was left mesmerized.

I wetted my lips, gently biting into them.

Cyril was quick to get rid of his upper clothes completely.

Gosh.

I was hungry – hungry for him.

Blindly, still gazing at Cyril, I found my bed, sat down and crawled back. I waited for him to follow me and thankfully he understood my intentions.

"Can I?" he asked with his fingers wrapped around the fabric of my T-shirt.

"Yes."

And soon enough, we were both covered only by our underwear.

"You're so beautiful," he said with admiration.

I kissed him.

Sparks were flying all around us as his skin made contact with mine. There were no barriers between us. Every wall that used to be standing tall was now buried deep down underground.

His body fit perfectly into mine like two pieces of puzzle that found each other.

For tonight, it was just the two of us and that was completely, utterly perfect.

ꔫ

Well... This was intense.

Thank you so much for reading and I can hardly believe there's only one chapter left from act 1!! Then we'll have to take a break but don't worry, I have some very interesting ideas for season 2 ;)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Sincerely, writingmagic 🩶