One Nightstand with The Bad Boy

8- Confuse

MIA POV

Perched on the sleek hood of Peter's car, I found myself ensconced in the electric ambiance of the underground racing scene. Every detail seemed amplified—the roar of engines, the screech of tires, the pulsating energy of the crowd—all coalescing into a sensory symphony that held me spellbound.

As I awaited the impending clash between Clark and his formidable opponent, I couldn't help but marvel at the intricate dance of power and strategy unfolding before me. Yet, amidst the intensity of the race, my attention kept drifting back to Clark, his gaze a curious mix of challenge and frustration whenever our eyes met. It was a paradox that left me both intrigued and unsettled, especially considering his recent entanglement with Mitch.

Beside me, Peter remained a steadfast presence, his quiet demeanor belying the depth of his companionship. Despite his reserved nature, there was a quiet strength in his presence that anchored me amidst the swirling chaos of the racing circuit. His unwavering loyalty, coupled with the camaraderie of his friends, offered a sense of belonging I hadn't anticipated.

The adrenaline-laden atmosphere seemed to heighten every sensation, from the exhilarating rush of the race to the subtle nuances of our interactions. Amidst the pulsating energy of the crowd, I found myself appreciating the simple pleasure of being here, immersed in a world I had longed to explore.

In a moment of genuine gratitude, I leaned in close to Peter, my words a whispered echo of appreciation amidst the cacophony surrounding us. His raised eyebrow and bemused smile mirrored my own amusement, underscoring the sincerity of our connection.

As the anticipation mounted and the race drew nearer, I couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration coursing through me. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain—this experience, shared with Peter by my side, was something I would cherish for a lifetime.

He chuckled softly, the sound a reassuring ripple in the charged air between us, before refocusing his gaze on me with a curious intensity. "It was nothing, and you really like cars, right? Plus, Clark is here," he remarked, a subtle emphasis in his words that hinted at a deeper meaning.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice tinged with uncertainty as I shifted my gaze away, a subtle retreat from his penetrating stare.

"But how can we make our plan work if he's preoccupied with flirting? Maybe we should call it off. It's clear he couldn't care less about me, and his disdain was palpable," I lamented, my disappointment seeping into my words as I cast my eyes downward, grappling with the weight of our precarious situation.

"Is that what you think, Angel?" he interjected, a smirk dancing on his lips as he met my confused gaze head-on.

"What? I don't understand," I confessed, my brow furrowing in confusion as I struggled to decipher his cryptic response.

"We need to provoke him," he declared, his words a calculated gambit that left me momentarily stunned. Before I could muster a response, he closed the distance between us, his breath warm against my skin as our noses brushed and our lips hovered tantalizingly close.

Does he always eat chocolates before visiting my apartment? The thought flitted through my mind as his presence enveloped me, his forehead pressed against mine with a lingering tension that crackled with unspoken desires. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of brown, held me captive as they traced the contours of my face, lingering on my lips with a magnetic pull that left me breathless.

Suddenly, I was yanked away from Peter's intoxicating proximity, my wrist seized in a vice-like grip as Clark materialized beside me with an intensity that bordered on ferocity. His glare bore into Peter, a silent warning that brooked no argument as he whisked me away, his grip unyielding despite my futile attempts to break free.

I stole a glance back at Peter, who remained perched on the hood of his car with a knowing smirk that set my nerves on edge. What game was he playing at? My attention shifted to Mitch, her icy glare a chilling reminder of the precariousness of our situation. With a resigned sigh, I turned my focus back to Clark, who led me away with a determination that left no room for protest, his grip unrelenting as we ventured into the unknown.

"Where do you think we're going? And can you please let me go!?" I said, my annoyance evident in the sharp edge of my tone.

He regarded me for a moment before his gaze softened, descending to my wrist where his grip had left a red mark. With a silent apology, he released me, and I instinctively cradled my injured hand, offering a silent acknowledgment of his remorse. Meeting his eyes, I found a glimmer of contrition mirrored in his expression.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper that only reached my ears. I turned away, nursing my wrist as his words hung in the air between us.

"Come with me," he urged, his voice betraying a hint of urgency.

"Where? Your race is about to start," I countered, arching a skeptical brow in his direction.

"I know, princess. Just trust me and come with me," he implored, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Should I follow him? What about Peter? I can't just abandon him; after all, he's the one who brought me here.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, he added, "We'll be back, don't worry," his gaze fixed on me expectantly, awaiting my decision.

Is this what Peter had planned? I groaned inwardly, grappling with the sudden turn of events and the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

"Uhmm... Before we talk, could I use the restroom?" I stammered, my nerves betraying me in the most inconvenient moment.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "You never cease to surprise me, princess. Come on, follow me," he beckoned, turning away and forging ahead without waiting for my response.

I remained rooted to the spot, torn between curiosity and apprehension. Why had he pulled me away from Peter? Was he jealous? But he had just kissed Mitch moments ago. The enigma that was Clark left me feeling utterly bewildered, his intentions shrouded in a veil of ambiguity that eluded my grasp.

"Are you coming or what?" His abrupt question snapped me out of my reverie. I responded with a roll of my eyes before falling into step beside him. His smile, genuine and disarming, tugged at something deep within me, melting away the defenses I had meticulously erected.

You're such a fool, heart. Don't be so quick to trust him. Remember the scars he could leave behind. But the heart, ever hopeful and naive, refused to heed the warning, yearning for connection in a sea of uncertainty.

"No more heartbreak for me," I silently vowed, steeling myself against the allure of his charm.