All Chapters of RED HOT STORIES (A COLLECTION OF ST*AMY STORIES): Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Tessa's povI didn’t realize how much Daniel had become a part of my days until one morning when I woke up and found no message from him. It was strange how quiet my phone felt. For a moment, I just stared at the screen, waiting for it to light up. When it didn’t, a small wave of worry washed over me.It wasn’t like him not to text.I tried to shake it off and prepare for class, but all through the morning lecture, my mind wasn’t on what the lecturer was saying. I kept thinking about him wondering if he was okay.After class, I decided to stop by his room. When I got there, he was sitting on his bed, looking tired.“Daniel,” I said, walking in. “Are you alright?”He looked up and smiled faintly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little feverish.”I frowned. “You should have told me.”He shrugged. “Didn’t want to worry you.”I sighed and placed my hand on his forehead. He really was warm. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you go to the clinic?”He chuckled weakly. “I was planning to rest a bit firs

Tessa's pov When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was sunlight spilling gently through Daniel’s curtains. It painted soft golden lines across the room, touching the walls, the floor, and finally his face. For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring quietly, listening to the rhythm of his breathing beside me.Everything felt calm, like the world had paused just for us.He was still asleep, his lashes resting softly against his cheeks, his lips slightly curved in a sleepy half-smile. His arm was around me, warm and heavy, and I could feel the slow beat of his heart against my back. It was a sound I never thought could bring me peace yet it did.I turned gently to face him, careful not to wake him. The morning light made him look so different softer, gentler, like all the sharp edges of the world had been smoothed away.I smiled.For a moment, I thought about how strange life was. Months ago, he was just a boy who sat beside me in class the one who always shared his notes, who l

Amara's povI stared at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen, its steady rhythm mocking me. For hours, I had been trying to write one simple paragraph a love scene that should have been full of warmth and life. Instead, my words felt empty, like they had no heartbeat.I sighed and leaned back in my chair. The rain outside was soft and quiet, tapping on my window like it was trying to comfort me. I wished it could. My story was supposed to be about love real, deep, aching love but how could I write about something I had never truly felt?I had read about passion in books, watched it in movies, even tried to imagine how it would feel. But imagination has limits. Every time I tried to describe the way two people touched, I hesitated. My sentences became awkward, my scenes turned cold. It was like describing the taste of something I’d never eaten.I wanted to feel it not just with my mind, but with my whole being. I wanted to know what it meant to have someone look at me like I was the

Amara’s povI arrived at Ethan’s studio just before four. The building was old, covered with climbing vines and soft light spilling through wide windows. I paused at the entrance, feeling the flutter of nerves in my stomach.He opened the door before I could knock. “Right on time,” he said with a smile that made my heart give a small, helpless jump.The space smelled faintly of paint and wood. Photographs covered the walls portraits of strangers caught mid-smile, moments of stillness, and little stories told without words.“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful.”Ethan shrugged lightly. “It’s just life through a lens.”He motioned toward a chair near the window. “Sit. Want coffee? Or tea?”“Coffee’s fine,” I said, and he disappeared for a moment, returning with two steaming cups.When I took the first sip, he leaned against the table across from me and asked, “So, how’s your story going now?”I smiled. “Better, actually. The words are finally moving again.”“Good. That means you’re findin

Amara’s povThe rain started without warning. One moment the sky was pale and still; the next, it was a sheet of silver water falling hard against the windows of Ethan’s studio. He looked up from the camera in his hands and laughed softly, as if the storm was an old friend.“Looks like we’re trapped,” he said.I stood near the long table where his photos lay scattered faces, light, movement, all captured like fragments of feeling. The sound of the rain made the whole room hum. I tried to smile, but my heart was doing strange things inside me.“I don’t mind,” I said quietly.He walked closer, wiping his hands on a cloth. The scent of him warm, clean, and a little like paint and wood filled the air between us. I felt suddenly aware of every sound: the steady drumming of rain, the ticking of the clock, the soft creak of the floor when he stopped just a few steps from me.“You were quiet today,” he said. “Is the story still stuck?”I looked down at the papers in my hand, the pages of my u