Can't Stop That Feeling Novels & Stories

We have to stop. I whispered over and over again, unable to contain my panic and the pleas that circulated in the deepest recesses of my mind. I was begging my body to stop, to listen to me and yet it seemed almost set in stone, like a cruel fate to continue on a path I knew had the capability of ending me, turning me absolutely insane. I knew that nothing I did or said would make me stop and yet I kept pleading with my body, kept trying to the point of exhaustion to stop myself from going towards it.

She pleads, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she's afraid to let herself admit the effect I have on her. But I won't stop, rather I can't stop. I can't stop because the thought of her giving up on me is unbearable. I won't stop until she gives me a chance. Hell, even if she does, I won't ever stop. I refuse to back down, even if she tries to push me away. This feeling, this undeniable connection between us, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. And I'm not about to let it slip through my fingers.

Older than your arrogance. "Stop," I gasp. "Please, just stop." *I tried to stop. For days I tried to give up. To let you win.* Her voice turns sad. Broken. *But some things can't be killed. Some bonds are too strong to sever.* The pain in my chest changes. Becomes sharper. More focused. Like something is trying to claw its way out from the inside. I press both hands against my ribs and feel something moving beneath my skin. Something that shouldn't be there.

“But I can stop you from making it worse.” The moment he said those last words—*I can stop you from making it worse*—something inside me snapped, and I lowered my head and broke into tears. Sobs ripped out of my chest before I could swallow them down, and my hand flew to my mouth, but the tears were already spilling down my face—hot and unstoppable. “Oh my God!” I cried out loud, and thankfully, the loud music was louder, else everyone would have heard my ugly cry. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“It just… happened. Slowly. Every time you looked at me. Every time you touched me. Every time you said my name like it meant something.” I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight. “Lila…” She took a shaky breath. “I tried to stop it. I really did. But I couldn’t. And now… I don’t want to.” The room felt too small. Too quiet. Too full of everything we weren’t supposed to feel. I stared at her. My heart pounded loud in my ears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. “This feeling,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I wanted. I swallowed hard. “The feeling you have for… for me. When did it start?”

The honesty in his confession stunned me silent. "So no, I can't stop." He took a step closer. "I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting to know everything about you. Can't stop imagining all the ways I could make you feel good if you'd just let me try."

I wasn't ready to shatter all over again. And when I walked away, I could feel the weight of it—the intensity of all the things we never discussed, all the things we never did—pressing down on me. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Because if I stopped, I might finally allow myself to feel what I was holding back.

My heart stops. Shit. What am I going to do?

Simple. Cold. “How?” I demanded my eyes held a silent plea in them. There it was. The crack. Real this time. “How do I just stop being like this?” I pushed, my eyes were at the brim of tears. A beat. “You don’t ‘just’ stop, Mia.” His voice dropped. “You decide.” I let out a shaky breath. “That’s not helpful.” “No,” he said. “It’s not supposed to.” He stepped closer again. Too close. “For you, it’s not instinct,” he continued. “It's a habit.”

I wish I could do something to stop this feeling. It's bad and heavy to abstain from. I wonder why my day had to be so bad.