One Nightstand with The Bad Boy

10- Beetch please

"Where have you been?" Peter's inquiry hit me as soon as I reached his customary spot, finding him standing in front of his car with Tofer, the absence of their usual female entourage noticeable. Dismissing the thought for the moment, I offered Peter a smile.

"Just talking. I'm fine," I assured him, maintaining the smile despite the knot forming in my stomach.

"Alright then, let's get going. Race is about to start," Peter announced, pulling me closer to his side. I silently appreciated his decision not to delve further into the topic.

"Listen up, everyone!" Peter's commanding voice cut through the chatter, commanding the attention of the gathered crowd.

"Seems like Mr. Lover Boy has something to say," Peter added, gesturing towards Clark, who chuckled in response, shaking his head.

A sudden wave of panic washed over me. What was Clark up to? Was this about the race or something else entirely? I chided myself for jumping to conclusions; perhaps it was related to his ongoing rivalry with Mitch. But the unease lingered, evident in the sweat forming on my brow.

Before I could contemplate further, Peter nudged me, prompting a slight flinch. I shot him a glare, to which he mouthed an apology, his chuckle only serving to heighten my irritation.

"Pay attention, Angel. This is worth it," Peter whispered, directing my gaze towards Clark, who now held the microphone.

As Clark's eyes met mine, a smirk played on his lips, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being caught off guard. He shot a brief glare in Peter's direction before refocusing on me.

"This race is dedicated to you, Princess," his words, laced with a hint of mischief, were delivered with a wink directed solely at me.

Caught off guard, I searched my surroundings for any other potential recipient of his words, but found none. Was he really addressing me? The uncertainty lingered, leaving me grappling with a mix of confusion and a flutter of something else entirely.

"Yeah, princess, I'm talking about you," Clark's words, accompanied by that infuriating smirk, echoed through the crowded space.

Paralyzed by shock, I couldn't muster a response. Me? Really? Before I could process further, a strong arm enveloped my shoulders, jolting me out of my daze. I glanced up to find Peter beside me, his presence adding another layer of confusion to the already bewildering situation.

Is he trying to provoke Clark? Why now?

The answer surfaced in my mind, a reminder of the terms of our agreement. Right, thanks, conscience.

But this wasn't the time for their rivalry to escalate into a full-blown confrontation. I needed to diffuse the tension before things spiraled out of control.

"Stop it, Peter. Let's not make a scene," I implored, my voice laced with urgency.

Peter met my gaze briefly before relenting, removing his arm from my shoulder with a resigned sigh. "Fine," he muttered, his acquiescence a relief.

"Thank you," I murmured gratefully, his nod of acknowledgment barely registering as my attention returned to the unfolding spectacle.

Clark's simmering anger was palpable as he relinquished the microphone to the host, a smirk playing on his lips that hinted at the brewing storm within. With a shared glance, Peter and I silently acknowledged the need to steer clear of further confrontation.

As the crowd's attention shifted back to the impending race, I felt the weight of their scrutiny settle upon me, amplified by the disdainful glares of the girls nearby. Ignoring their judgment, I focused on the task at hand, turning my gaze towards Clark's car.

Amidst the revving engines and the electric anticipation in the air, a tall, statuesque girl emerged, her attire leaving little to the imagination. Positioned between the two cars, she brandished a red cloth, signaling the imminent start of the race.

"Ready!" Her voice reverberated through the crowd, a prelude to the adrenaline-fueled chaos about to unfold. With a flourish, she raised both hands, signaling the racers to prepare.

As the engines roared to life, drowning out the collective roar of the spectators, a surge of excitement coursed through the crowd.

"Go!" With a decisive gesture, the girl dropped her hands, unleashing the thunderous roar of engines as the race commenced in a whirlwind of speed and adrenaline.

==============

Alone in front of Peter's car, the aftermath of the race unfolded amidst a cacophony of cheers and celebrations. As expected, the victor was none other than Clark, his prowess on the track undeniable, a testament to his skill and aptitude.

Peter had been whisked away by the allure of camaraderie, leaving me with the solitary comfort of his car. Initially hesitant to leave me alone, he relented at my insistence, offering reassurance that he was only a stone's throw away should I need him.

My gaze wandered, seeking out Clark amidst the throng of jubilant faces. Finally spotting him, my heart plummeted as I watched him engulfed by a sea of admirers, among them, Mitch, draped on his arm with possessive familiarity.

A bitter realization washed over me—expecting anything more from a notorious playboy like Clark was a fool's errand. He was simply living up to his reputation, a fact I begrudgingly acknowledged.

"It's your fault, you expect that he likes you," my conscience chided, a harsh reminder of my own naivety.

I bit back the sting of disappointment, my frustration bubbling to the surface. How could I have misinterpreted his words? Was I nothing more than another conquest in his eyes?

An icy glare pierced through the crowd, my silent reproach aimed squarely at Clark. Our eyes locked momentarily, his initial smile faltering under the weight of my disdain, replaced by a flicker of concern tinged with confusion.

Seizing an opportunity, he extricated himself from Mitch's grasp, prompting a scowl from her. His gaze lingered on me, but I averted my eyes, refusing to entertain his attempts at reconciliation. Let him wonder, let him feel the sting of rejection.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice interrupted my reverie, drawing my attention to Clark's erstwhile opponent, now standing before me. His features, though unremarkable compared to Peter and Clark, held a certain charm.

Embarrassed by my lapse in composure, I brushed off his concern with a forced smile, suppressing the erratic flutter of my heart. What was wrong with me, indeed?

My train of thought was abruptly derailed by a coughing sound, snapping me out of my reverie. Instinctively, I averted my gaze, unwilling to give the impression that I was scrutinizing the newcomer.

"So... What brings a beautiful lady like you here alone?" His words hung in the air, accentuating the emphasis on 'alone.'

I remained silent, refusing to engage with a stranger. Instead, I simply arched an eyebrow, my gaze fixed on him. His response was unexpected—a chuckle, as if my silence amused him.

"You're really looking cute... Hi, I'm Dwayne." His smile was warm, his hand extended in a friendly gesture. Despite my initial hesitation, I considered that he might be harmless, merely attempting to strike up a conversation.

Just as I was about to reciprocate the gesture, a sudden pressure on my waist jolted me, sending a shiver down my spine. I recognized the familiar scent of mint, freezing me in place as Clark's presence enveloped me. His whispered words, laden with disappointment, sent a wave of embarrassment coursing through me, rendering me speechless.

Trapped in an awkward silence, I found myself unable to respond, my gaze fixated on the ground in a futile attempt to conceal my embarrassment.

"Step aside, David. Can't you see we're talking?" Dwayne's voice cut through the tension, his glare directed squarely at Clark.

Before Clark could interject, Peter emerged from the fray, his tone laced with authority. "Actually, she's with me," he declared, his words carrying a weighty seriousness.

The sudden turn of events left me reeling, caught between the conflicting intentions of three men vying for my attention.

"Wow, three guys fighting for you now," my conscience chimed in, its commentary only serving to exacerbate my inner turmoil.

Shaking off the distraction, I glanced up at Clark, his narrowed blue eyes betraying a simmering tension. Across from him, Dwayne's demeanor shifted, his chuckle morphing into a disdainful shake of the head as he regarded Clark.

"And I thought she was your girl. Nice try, David," Dwayne remarked with a chuckle, his tone laced with amusement as he sized up the situation. I felt Clark's hand tighten momentarily on my waist before he released his grip, a silent indication of his annoyance.

"Anyway, nice to meet you, beautiful. See you around, I guess," Dwayne added, his smirk lingering as he acknowledged Peter, who maintained his composed demeanor. As Dwayne vanished from sight, Peter turned his attention back to me.

"Come on, Angel, I’ll drop you off. It's getting late," Peter suggested, his voice carrying a hint of concern for my well-being. Before I could respond, Clark stepped in, his voice firm and decisive, asserting his claim over the situation.

"I'll do it, Peter," Clark stated assertively. "I invited her here, so I should take her home."

A palpable tension hung in the air as they locked eyes, each silently vying for control. Sensing the need to diffuse the escalating standoff, I interjected, redirecting their focus to me.

With a reassuring smile directed at Peter, I affirmed my decision. "It's okay, Peter. I’ll go with Clark."

Peter seemed reluctant, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Are you sure? I mean, I can do it, and I don't have..."

"It's okay," I reiterated, offering him a reassuring smile to ease his worry. "Thank you so much for bringing me here, Peter. It really means a lot to me."

Although a fleeting disappointment crossed his eyes, Peter quickly masked it with a smile. "Okay then, text me when you get home. See you tomorrow, Angel," he said warmly, his gaze shifting briefly to Clark before he made his departure.

As Peter approached Tofer, I noticed him engaging in conversation with a brunette girl who seemed unfamiliar. Peter exchanged a few words with Tofer before they both bid farewell to the brunette and departed in Peter's car, leaving me alone with Clark.

"Angel, huh?" Clark's voice sliced through the air, dripping with disdain.

"That's what he used to call me. I'm not sure why," I replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"I don't like it," Clark stated firmly, his expression tinged with anger. I met his gaze and rolled my eyes.

"You don't like a lot of things," I murmured under my breath, averting my eyes.

"I heard that, princess," Clark retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. "I've told you, I don't like to share. What's mine is mine," he added, his tone serious.

I was taken aback by his possessiveness, unsure of how to respond. Before he could make a move closer to me, I decided to change the subject.

"We should probably head out now, Clark," I interjected, glancing at my watch to avoid his piercing gaze.

He chuckled softly. "Let's go then," he agreed, taking my hand and leading me towards his Lamborghini Aventador. As we approached the stunning vehicle, I couldn't help but stop in awe, my eyes widening and my mouth slightly agape.

"Do you like it?" Clark inquired, noticing my reaction. I was too captivated by the car to tear my gaze away.

"Are you kidding? I love it! This has been my dream car for as long as I can remember," I exclaimed, running a reverent hand over its sleek exterior.

"Really? So you're into cars too?" Clark asked, his amusement evident as he observed my fascination with the vehicle.

I nodded absentmindedly in response, barely registering his words. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; I couldn't afford to miss it.

"Don't worry, you'll be with this beauty as long as you want," he reassured me, pulling me out of my reverie. His comment caught my attention, prompting me to look up at him with furrowed brows.

"What?" I finally managed to articulate my confusion.

"Just get in, princess. Everyone's starting to leave. We wouldn't want to get locked in here, would we?" he teased, his playful tone softening the tension.

He graciously opened the passenger's door for me, displaying a gentlemanly gesture. Although I wanted to tease him about it, I decided against it, not wanting to disrupt his mood, especially considering his unpredictable mood swings.

As he settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, I fastened my seatbelt, mirroring his actions. The car roared to life, filling the air with its powerful sound, eliciting a wide smile from me. I was enamored with the symphony of the machine.

"Where to?" he suddenly inquired as we exited the building. I provided him with my address, to which he simply nodded in acknowledgment.

The journey remained silent, and I found myself growing increasingly uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. Despite my desire to break the silence, I hesitated, fearing his disapproval, so I opted to gaze out the window instead.

Abruptly, the car came to a halt, signaling our arrival at my apartment building. He exited the vehicle and courteously opened my door before we walked side by side to the front door. Just as we approached, he finally spoke.

"I'm serious about what I said earlier," he declared, his gaze fixed ahead. Unable to see his eyes, I longed for that connection. As if sensing my thoughts, he turned to me, revealing his sincere ocean-blue eyes. Despite his sincerity, doubts lingered. Could I truly trust him? Was this deal genuinely working?

"Okay," I responded hesitantly, my uncertainty palpable.

"There's more to me than meets the eye," echoed Peter's cryptic words in my mind.

"See you tomorrow then," he said, snapping me out of my contemplation.

I composed myself and offered a grateful smile. "Thank you for dropping me off."

"Starting tomorrow, I'll be the one to pick you up and drop you off here," he asserted firmly, catching me off guard. Wait, for what? The smile faded from my lips, replaced by a frown.

"What!? I have a car, Clark, you do not have to do that," I stated, my irritation palpable in my voice.

"That's what they do when someone likes someone, right?" Clark replied, his smile widening as if he had just revealed some profound truth.

Did I hear him correctly? Like? Was he implying that he liked me? It felt surreal, like a scene from a movie.

"Wait. Are you asking me out?" I questioned, a mix of disbelief and excitement swirling within me.

"Yes," Clark affirmed, his smirk growing more pronounced.

I stood there in stunned silence, trying to process what he had just said. Was this real? Was he genuinely interested in me? Before I could gather my thoughts, Clark closed the distance between us and planted another soft kiss on my cheek. It was unexpected, and I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment and excitement. This was the second time he had done this, and each time, it left me feeling both flustered and elated.

As Clark's car drove away, I was left standing there, trying to make sense of everything that had just transpired. With a mixture of emotions coursing through me, I retreated into my apartment and made my way to my room, closing the door behind me. Leaning against it, I couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief and anticipation that hung in the air.

What now?

How on earth was I supposed to sleep after this whirlwind of a day?

This is all your fault, Clark!!!