Chapter 4 - First Risk, Final Surrender

 “This is your moment, Mehanda. Say something. Anything. Even if it’s about the weather or how much you hate the cafeteria pizza. Just open your mouth and let words come out.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I moaned, feeling like my legs were turning into literal jelly. “I look like a mess. I’m sweaty from sitting in the sun, and I probably smell like the gym floor.”

“You look like a girl who is about to get a ride from the hottest guy in school,” Selima countered, smoothing my hair with a quick, rough motion. “Now, chest out, and chin up. Act like you belong in that passenger seat. Be the queen of your own destiny for once!”

“I’m more like the court jester of my own destiny,” I muttered. My heart thudded painfully as Uriel approached, his stride easy and confident. The sound of his sneakers on the pavement felt like a countdown to my own explosion. He glanced up, and for the briefest second, his eyes caught mine. A flicker of recognition passed through those deep blue depths, and a faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey,” he said simply. His voice was low, warm, and far too close for my sanity.

I just stood there, blank, every word I’d rehearsed during the last hour vanishing into thin air. Selima’s nails dug into my arm—a sharp, painful reminder to stay in the moment. My lips parted, but all I could manage was a breathless, shaky smile.

“Hey,” I finally managed to breathe out.

Uriel tilted his head, studying me with a quiet intensity that made the world shrink to just the two of us. The sounds of other students shouting and cars starting up faded into a dull hum, leaving only the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears like a waterfall.

“You were at the game,” he remarked.

It wasn't a question, he had known I was there the whole time.

“I... I like basketball,” I lied, my voice gaining a tiny, fragile bit of strength. “You’re very good at it. The angles you take... they’re very precise. It’s almost like you’re doing math on the court.”

A flash of raw, heavy heat flared in Uriel’s gaze just before he let out a low, husky laugh that sent a shockwave straight to my core, leaving my toes curling helplessly. My breath hitched as I searched his face, was that the same shameless, unbridled hunger reflected fleetingly in his eyes, or was I just imagining it all?

“Math? That’s an interesting way to put it. Most people just say I’m lucky with the backboard.”

Ahh, guess I was wrong.

“It’s not luck if it’s consistent,” I replied, feeling a sudden, strange surge of boldness. “Luck doesn't sink three-pointers from the edge of the paint every single time.”

He looked at me with a new kind of interest, his eyes scanning my face.

“I guess you were paying attention then,” he said softly, taking a step closer until his heat radiated off him. My breath hitched, trapped in my lungs. But then, with a heavy sigh, he broke the spell. He opened the truck door, pausing as if waiting—waiting for me to find the courage to say what was really on my mind.

“Do you need a lift, Mehanda?” he asked.

The way he said my name made it sound like a secret he had been keeping. “Michael is heading the other way to pick up his brother, and I’ve got an empty seat. It's a long walk to your side of town.”

Selima practically vibrated with triumph next to me. I could feel the victory radiating off her. “She’d love one!” she exclaimed before I could even process the offer. “I actually have to go meet my mom at the dentist anyway. Total emergency. See ya!”

Before I could even open my mouth to protest, Selima was already walking away, waving over her shoulder with a wink that clearly said, ‘You owe me your firstborn child for this.’ I turned back to Uriel, who was still holding the door open, his blue eyes watching me with a patient, inviting stillness.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” I said, though every cell in my body was screaming at me to jump in and never leave.

“You aren’t a bother, Mehanda,” Uriel said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding more intimate in the quiet of the parking lot. “Actually, I was hoping you’d say yes. I’ve been wondering when you’d finally stop hiding behind your friend and actually talk to me.”

The air left my lungs entirely. He had noticed. He had been watching me, too, even through all the flirting from the other girls.

“You... you wanted to talk to me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“I did,” he admitted, stepping a fraction closer until his heat was impossible to ignore. “More than you’ll ever know. But you’re always slipping away, acting like you’re in a frantic hurry to be somewhere else.”

He paused, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Are you in a hurry now?”

“No,” I said, finding my footing. “I’m not in a hurry at all.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing to the seat. “After you.”

As I climbed into the high seat, my heart sang a wild, frantic song of victory and absolute terror. The smell of the interior hit me: expensive leather and a hint of the same orange scent from lunch.

“Nice truck,” I said, trying to sound casual as he closed my door.

“It gets me where I need to go,” he replied through the open window before walking around to the driver's side.

As he climbed in next to me, the space felt suddenly, electrically small.

I clutched my bag in my lap, wondering if he could hear my heart beating. As he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt, the air between us suddenly vanished.

Our faces were so close I could feel the heat of his breath, and in that heartbeat, a sudden, fierce flash of confidence ignited inside me.

I wanted this man!

Not just his attention, but his soul, his affection, his everything. I was done being a spectator in my own life. He might have been worlds away from me, surrounded by elites and guarded by wealth, but in this small, shadowed cabin, he was just a man. And I was the woman who was finally ready to risk it all.

When his eyes locked onto mine, searching for a reason to pull away, I didn't give him one. I slid my hands around his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down.

Our lips met, and the moment crashed over me like a wave, unstoppable and consuming.

This was my first real kiss, yet in the theater of my mind, I had lived this moment a million times. I let my tongue trail along his lower lip in a silent, trembling plea for entry. For a heartbeat, he froze, caught in the sheer audacity of my touch, before a hoarse, guttural grunt tore from his chest.

Suddenly, the lead was his.

His arm wrapped around my shoulders like a band of iron, crushing me against the solid wall of his chest. He captured my lips in a breathtaking, searing kiss that tasted of hunger and long-denied need. He dominated the rhythm, his tongue demanding a response I was more than willing to give, turning my world into a blurred haze of heat and contact.

“Goddess!” he rasped against my mouth, his voice raw with a desperation that shook me. “I’ve longed for this. I refuse to wait a second longer. This torture ends now, you were always meant to be mine.”

His words were a riddle I didn't care to solve. Not now. His lips were back on mine, burning hot yet making my senses go numb with bliss. He was the hero of every dream I’d ever had, and now, I was finally claiming the reality. When his hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt, I didn't pull back; I arched into him, making it easy for him to rid me of the fabric.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice vibrating against the sensitive column of my neck as he tilted my head back. “Even more than in my dreams.”

In the hushed intimacy of the truck, I felt the cool air hit my skin, leaving me exposed save for my underwear. But the cold didn't matter, Uriel was setting me on fire. His hands were everywhere, mapping my curves with a reverence that made me feel like a masterpiece.

When his fingers traveled between my thighs, teasing and light, a broken moan escaped my lips. I didn't try to hide it. I tilted my head, sucking at the pulse point in his neck while I opened for him, surrendering to the pull of my own desire. I was already aching for him, the air thick with the sweet, heavy scent of my arousal.

He paused, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged.

“Let’s go home,” he murmured, his voice sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I want our first time to be perfect. Mehanda…”

He didn't sound like the untouchable, confident man I had watched from a distance.

He was a man whose heart now was hammering against his ribs just as wildly as my own. His fierce kisses and the way he trembled against me betrayed a truth he couldn't hide: he felt it all, too.

“Yes,” I whispered against his chest, holding onto him as if he were a lifeline. “I want you, Uriel.”

He pulled me closer then, holding me as if I were the most precious thing he had ever held, and for the first time, I actually believed I was.