CHAPTER 2

“You want to kiss me?” I repeated his question, unsure if I had heard him correctly. Caleb laughed, a sharp sound that filled the car as he waved me off and grabbed both duffel bags from the back seat. “Never mind.”

I got out quickly, my palms sweating as I led him to my apartment. My fingers fumbled with the keys before I finally managed to unlock the door and step inside.

He lingered by the doorway, scanning my place as though it were something to judge. His lips curled into a smirk. “You work with money every day, and yet this is the kind of place you stay at.” The words cut deeper than I wanted them to. My chest tightened with embarrassment, but I forced myself to ignore it. He wasn’t wrong, and I knew how pathetic it looked.

“How long do you plan to stay here?” I asked, my voice trembling. The thought of risking my job and my life over this man made me nauseous and unsteady.

“As soon as the coast clears with the police, I'm sorry for cramping your space like this. I didn't know you were already cramped in this tiny apartment.” I exhaled sharply, the tension knotting in my shoulders. I wanted to relax, to forget this nightmare, but with him in my apartment, that was impossible.

 I reached for a bottle of gin and two glasses, placing them on the table. My hands shook as I poured. “Here.” I slid a glass toward him. Caleb tossed the bags onto the floor and sank onto my couch, his posture careless. “Thanks. It’s good to see you after all these years. I wondered what you were up to.”

I froze, the disbelief written all over my face. “You… thought of me?” His gaze flicked up to mine, steady and unreadable.

“That’s nice,” I said, awkwardness thickening in my voice. I took a long swallow before pouring again, then again, until we were on our third round. The gin burned down my throat, but it steadied me.

Why would anyone bully someone so relentlessly, then years later claim he had thought about them? He was insane. My words slipped out before I could hold them back. “Why are you even saying that? You made my life hell in high school. Do you remember that?”

Caleb leaned back, smirking as if the memory amused him. “You’re still holding on to that?”

“Yes.” The sound of my own voice, filled with anger, surprised me with its sharpness. “You humiliated me. You laughed when others laughed. You made sure I knew I wasn’t good enough for anyone. And now you sit here and act like it didn’t happen?” His smirk faltered as if the realisation of his past had hit him like a brick.

 His eyes darkened with irritation. “High school was a long time ago, Emily. People move on; you should do the same.”

“Well, I haven’t,” I snapped. My throat burned, not just from the alcohol but from years of swallowing back the things I wanted to say. 

“Do you know what it feels like to walk down hallways every day wishing you were invisible? To go home crying because of people like you?”Caleb’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. That silence infuriated me even more.

“You can’t even apologize,” I whispered bitterly. His eyes finally met mine, and there was anger in his eyes and something dangerous that made my chest tighten. “Maybe I don’t want to apologize. Maybe I liked the way you looked at me back then. Like you hated me and wanted me at the same time.” I gasped, the shock leaving me speechless. “That’s twisted. You need help.”

“Maybe.” 

He leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. “But here you are, pouring drinks for me. Keeping me in your apartment. Talking to me like you’ve been waiting years to unload all that anger.” I shook my head, my pulse racing. “You practically forced me to take you with me. Why are you so fucking arrogant?”

The tension between us snapped like a live wire. One second, we were glaring at each other, the next, his hand was in my hair, pulling me closer, and his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was rough, desperate, filled with all the things we couldn’t put into words. I hated him for it, hated myself for kissing him back. But my body betrayed me, leaning into him even when my mind told me not to.

His mouth pressed harder against mine, and instead of pulling back, I leaned in. The taste of gin lingered on both of us, warm and sharp, but the heat between us was sweeter. His hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I let him. My fingers found the fabric of his shirt, tugging him against me until there was no space left.

His lips trailed down my jaw, finding the curve of my neck, and I tilted my head to give him more. A low sound escaped me, soft and unguarded, and his answering breath came rough, almost desperate.

I wanted him. That was the only thought filling my head, the only certainty in the haze of everything else. When he guided me back toward the couch, I followed without hesitation, pulling him with me. His weight pressed me into the cushions, solid and grounding, and I reached up to run my hands through his hair, urging him closer.

Every touch, every kiss, was matched, both of us giving and taking in equal measure. The world outside, the police sirens, the fear of what tomorrow might bring, none of it mattered now. 

The alarm shrilled, cutting through the soft haze of sleep, and I groaned, fumbling blindly to silence it. My body felt heavy, warm in places that made me blush when I thought about last night. 

Sunlight spilled unevenly across the floor, catching on the empty gin bottle on the table and the scattered glasses. My apartment smelled faintly of alcohol and faintly of him, and my stomach gave a little flutter despite myself.

I rolled over, squinting at the ceiling, trying to decide whether to savor the warmth of the bed a little longer or get up. The alarm kept buzzing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the way he had touched me, and how natural it all felt.

With a long exhale, I swung my legs off the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. I sighed as I looked around the tiny apartment. Perhaps it's time to explore new opportunities and consider a new job. "Or ask my boss for a raise," I said to myself as I stood up from the bed and made my way to the bathroom to freshen up. 

I caught a glimpse of a crumpled paper on my pillow that looked like it had writing on it. I took it and smiled as I read what he wrote. "I had fun last night, see you around." My smile dropped as I realised that I had helped him escape. I could've done so many things to stop him or call the police after he left, but I am still procrastinating about that. 

I sat on the couch for a few minutes, not sure of my next move. The cameras at work probably caught him pointing a gun at my face on video, so they won't see me as an accomplice to his doings. I decided to just shower and face the music when I get to work. 

Thirty minutes later, I was outside my workplace. I frowned in confusion as the place was quiet and there were no police to attend the robbery. I walked, and most of my colleagues were already seated at their respective desks, ready to start the day. "Hey, Jen." I greeted my work besty, who had a desk next to me. "Hey, you're late today," she said, greeting me with a warm smile on her round face. 

I smiled back at her, thinking back to all these years she had my back here, we met here and had our interviews the same day, since then we have been inseparable. "I had a late night," I said as I placed my bag down and slid into a chair. "Too bad for you, the boss wants to see you." 

I gulped and turned to look at her, trying to see if she was pranking me. Why would she be pranking me? The boss has every right to call me. I witnessed someone robbing the bank, took him home with me, and had sex with him! I facepalmed myself for being stupid. 

"And when I say the boss, I mean Mr Zelinsky." 

"Oh fuck." I whispered under my breath, feeling like my world was going to shatter within a few minutes. Mr Zelinsky is the owner of the bank, the man who hired us. We get along, but I don't expect him to look away at what I did. I acted like an accomplice to the whole thing; I might as well be fired for it.

I slowly walked to his office, a part of me screaming to me to turn around, grab my things, and skip town because he is probably going to fire me. I softly knocked on his door and walked. My knees wobbled when I laid my eyes on who was standing next to Mr Zelinsky, smiling. 

"Watch your step, Emily. I called you here to meet someone," I looked at Mr Zelinsky in disbelief. Why is he introducing me to the man who robbed his bank? 

"Emily, meet my son, Caleb Monroe - Zelinsky."