“Time’s almost up. Pay attention in class,” Stella muttered as she hurriedly finished her food. Roger, however, had lost his appetite entirely. His expression darkened as he stared at her.
“No matter what, I won’t allow you to get involved with him,” he said, his voice firm, yet laced with a quiet intensity.
Stella nodded, acknowledging his words. “I know. Since he’s here, I won’t go to class with you.” She stood up, preparing to leave. Roger hesitated, his face tightening as something seemed to dawn on him.
“Are you going to the filming site?” His voice was tight, almost accusing.
She met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “I’ve made my choice a long time ago.”
With that, she turned to go. Roger didn’t say another word, but his silence was heavy, his face set in an unreadable expression. He was angry, yes, but also… disappointed?
As she walked out of the cafeteria, Stella felt the weight of his gaze on her back. It exhausted her, but she didn’t have the energy to address it. She’d made her choice, and she was sticking to it.
No sooner had she left the classroom than her phone buzzed. She glanced at the message:
‘Come to the gazebo.’
Most students were in class at this time, and the campus felt unusually quiet. She made her way to the gazebo, her steps steady, her mind racing. When she reached it, she saw him—Weston, tall and imposing, standing in the center like a shadow in the sunlight. His presence was overwhelming.
He turned at the sound of her approach, casting a brief glance in her direction. “I agreed to let you see Roger, not Justin,” he said, his voice cold.
Stella stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t.”
She knew exactly why he’d called her here. It was about Justin. “I came to talk to Justin about Roger. That’s all.”
Weston’s gaze was piercing, and he looked around, then leaned against the rail, tapping it lightly. “If there’s nothing between you two, why meet here?”
Stella felt the resentment in his voice and hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?” she said quietly.
Weston’s gaze shifted sharply, and in a flash, he grabbed her chin. His eyes narrowed, his voice low and filled with a quiet menace. “Are we the same?”
She froze, trapped in his gaze, the weight of his question pressing down on her. He seemed ready to tear her apart with just that look. She shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “No. There’s nothing between me and him.”
Only then did he release her chin, his hand brushing her cheek with a touch that was unexpectedly tender. “The pictures look great,” he muttered, his tone a strange mix of admiration and something darker.
Stella looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “He deliberately took those pictures from that angle.”
Weston’s face darkened, and Stella could see the shift in his mood—resentment, hurt, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite place. Without another word, he removed his watch and sat down on a stool beside her. His eyes, usually so confident, now held a trace of vulnerability.
“Sit down,” he commanded, his tone soft yet firm.
Stella hesitated but obeyed, sitting beside him. However, before she could even settle in, Weston’s voice broke the silence. “Sit on my lap.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. She immediately stood up, her voice rising in shock. “This is a school!”
Weston’s gaze never wavered, his expression calm. “No one will come. I asked Ben to guard outside. It’s just you and me here.”
Stella recoiled, her heart pounding. “You’re crazy! What if someone takes a picture of us?”
Weston frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I checked earlier. There won’t be anyone around at this time.”
Her chest tightened with unease, but before she could respond, he added, “When you were holding hands with him, you didn’t think twice. But now, with me, you hesitate?”
Stella felt the frustration well up inside her, her mind racing to process his words. She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. There was no point in arguing now. He had made up his mind.
Slowly, she walked toward him, her every step heavy with the tension in the air. As she reached him, Weston pulled her into his arms, forcing her to sit on his lap. Her breath caught in her throat, but before she could protest, he tilted her chin up, and in one swift motion, his lips crushed against hers.
The kiss was intense, demanding, filled with a force that left no room for hesitation. It was as though Weston wanted to make a statement, and in that moment, Stella couldn’t help but feel as if she were a mere pawn in his game. The kiss held an urgency, a rawness that sent a shiver down her spine.
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