Page 117 of Forbidden Fruit
Her jaw tightens, her annoyance clear, but I see it, the flicker of something deeper behind her glare. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
She stiffens, her guard shooting up like a fortress. For a second, I think she might bolt, but she doesn’t. Instead, she exhales, her shoulders dropping slightly, though her expression remains guarded. “I told you I needed time.”
“And I gave you time,” I reply, stepping closer. “But I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”
Her lips part, but no words come out. She looks up at me, and I can see the war waging behind her eyes, pride battling against the magnetic pull between us whenever we’re in the same space.
“Calvin, you can’t just…” she starts, then abruptly stops herself, biting down on her bottom lip.
I take a deliberate step closer, my eyes locked on hers. “Invite me in,” I say. I shift the tote bag slightly, playing up the weight of it. “This is starting to get heavy,” I lie.
She huffs, rolling her eyes in that way she always does when she’s trying to act annoyed. But I catch the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the smile she’s fighting so hard to hide.
With a soft sigh of defeat, she steps past me, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Fine,” she mutters.
I follow her inside, setting the bag down on the nearest surface. Her apartment is unapologetically girly and brimming with personality. The open floor plan allows the living room and kitchen to flow seamlessly together, the space bathed in soft pink, white, and gold accents. A blush-colored sofa sits at the center, its plush cushions scattered with mismatched throw pillows in delicate floral prints and sequins.
The coffee table is covered in a mix of magazines, a sketchpad with half-finished designs, and an empty coffee mug with lipstick smudged along the rim. A garment rack near the corner displays an array of vibrant fabrics and unfinished outfits, while a mannequin stands draped in what looks like her latest project, a fitted dress with intricate beading along the bodice.
The kitchen, separated only by a marble-topped island, is equally feminine. A vase of peonies and lilacs sits proudly in the island’s center. I guess she got my gift. The apartment is cozy, lived-in, and just slightly messy, just like her.
“Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” she quips, kicking off her shoes and padding barefoot across the room.
I can’t help but grin, leaning casually against the island as I watch her. “You always this hospitable, or is it just for me?”
She shoots me a glare over her shoulder, but I see the flush creeping up her neck. “Why are you here, Calvin?”
I push off the counter and close the distance between us in a few strides. Standing behind her, I reach out, my fingers brushing her shoulder. She stills, her breath hitching as I lean in.
“I’m here because I can’t stay away,” I say. “Because we belong together. Because we make sense.”
Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she turns slowly, her eyes locking with mine, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing their usual fire. She shakes her head, letting out a soft, hesitant breath.
“Do we?” she asks quietly. “What if… what if it was all because of the forbidden aspect? What if we can’t be anything beyond that? Because sneaking around, sleeping together in secret, that’s one thing. But a real relationship? I…” Her voice falters, her gaze dropping to the floor as her fingers fidget nervously. “I don’t know.”
I reach out, gently tilting her chin up so her eyes meet mine again.
“That’s fear talking, not you,” I say firmly, my thumb grazing her jawline. “You’re scared of what this could be, of what we already are. But tell me something, Blair.” I take a step closer, leaving no space between us. “When we’re together, does it feel fake? Forced? Like anything less than everything?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Exactly,” I continue. “What we have isn’t some fling or some reckless thrill. It’s real. It’s messy, yeah, but it’s us.And I’d take messy with you over perfect with anyone else.”
She bites her lip, her walls visibly crumbling. “But what if it doesn’t work?” she whispers. “What if we just… ruin each other?”
“Then we ruin each other,” I say. “But at least we’ll know we tried. At least we won’t spend the rest of our lives wondering what could’ve been.” I take her hands in mine, pressing them to my chest. “You feel that?” I ask, my heartbeat thundering beneath her touch. “That’s what you do to me, Blair. No one else has ever made me feel like this. And no one else ever will.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Calvin…” she sighs as if warring with herself as she steps away from me, but I can’t let her end us, end me.
“Ask me again,” I say, voice low but shaking from the force of everything I’ve held back.
She frowns. “What?”
“The night of the ball,” I reply, stepping closer. “You asked me if I’d choose you. And I was too much of a fucking idiot to tell you the truth.”
Her arms fold protectively across her chest, like she’s trying to keep herself from cracking open. “Calvin…”
