Sleep was impossible.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a chaotic mess of thoughts. My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind refused to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—the Aiden from earlier today. The fury in his storm-gray eyes, the way his fingers had tightened around my throat, the way his voice had sounded so possessive, so dark.
He had always been intense, but this... this was something else. Something dangerous.
I turned on my side, curling up as I pulled the blankets tighter around me. The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of my bedside lamp. But even the warmth of my familiar space couldn't ease the chill that had settled deep in my bones.
Aiden hadn't always been this way.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to think back—to the first time we met. Before the parties. Before the madness. Before everything changed.
I was eighteen, just a few weeks away from starting university when my mother told me we were having dinner at Ms. Harrison's house. It wasn't unusual—our families had been close for as long as I could remember. Once a month, without fail, either she or my mom would host a dinner, catching up on life, business, and everything in between. It was routine. Comfortable.
But that night was different.
On the way over, my mother had mentioned that Ms. Harrison's son had come to stay with her. "He'll be going to King's University, just like you," she said. "His father thought it would be better for him to be closer to school."
I barely reacted. I knew of Aiden, of course—his mother spoke about him often, but I had never met him. His parents had been divorced for over three years now. His father, a respected college professor and director, had kept him away, raising him with strict discipline and high expectations. Ms. Harrison, on the other hand, was different—an elegant woman who owned several boutique stores across the city, La Litar's Motion. She was warm and ambitious, the type of person who could walk into a room and command attention effortlessly.
I didn't know what to expect from her son.
When we arrived, the dinner proceeded as it always did—pleasant conversation, laughter between our mothers, and me sitting quietly, interjecting here and there when necessary. Then he walked in.
Aiden.
He was clean-cut, dressed in a fitted black sweater and dark jeans. His jet-black hair was neatly styled, his sharp features striking under the warm dining room light. His eyes—an almost silver shade of gray—were unreadable, distant, but captivating. He carried himself with quiet confidence, moving with an ease that suggested he was used to being watched.
I was mesmerized for a moment.
But that was all it took. A moment.
He barely spoke. I was socially awkward; I couldn't carry a conversation to save my life. Our parents had hoped we would get along since we were attending the same university and our courses were somewhat related, but by the end of the night, even they had silently given up on the idea.
We were just too different.
Or so I thought.
Two weeks later, Maddie dragged me to one of her parties. It wasn't my scene, but she insisted. "You need to live a little, Katie," she had said, tugging me through the throng of people. I was already regretting it when I stepped inside. The house was packed, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and sweat. Music pulsed through the walls, loud and unrelenting, as bodies moved in rhythm under flashing lights.
And then I saw him.
Aiden.
But not the one from dinner.
This Aiden was wild, reckless. His black hair was messier, his sweater replaced with a fitted black tee that stretched over his muscular frame. He was surrounded by a group of guys, a drink in hand, completely at ease in the chaos around him. But that wasn't what shocked me.
He was kissing two girls at once.
My breath caught. It was nothing like the composed, distant boy I had met. This Aiden was untamed, reveling in the attention, owning the room.
And then, suddenly, he was looking at me.
Our eyes met across the crowded room, and his expression changed. His smirk was slow, deliberate—a predator acknowledging prey. A knowing gleam in his gaze that sent a shiver down my spine.
That night, he hunted me.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. Only that he pulled me into a dark corner, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes, no longer cold, but burning. "Don't say a word about this," he murmured, his voice edged with something I couldn't place.
I was too stunned to respond.
I drank too much that night. I remember Maddie laughing, handing me another shot. And then... nothing.
I woke up in his bed.
My stomach twisted at the memory. My clothes were gone, replaced by an oversized shirt that wasn't mine. The air smelled like cologne and something distinctly Aiden. Panic set in, my heart pounding against my ribs as I sat up.
He was on the couch.
And he looked furious.
"You threw up all over yourself," he muttered, his tone filled with distaste. "Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't going to let you sleep in your own mess."
Shame burned through me. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I scrambled to leave, barely looking at him as I gathered my things.
Maddie later told me that in my drunken stupor, I had agreed to go home with him since she had left with her boyfriend.
From then on, Aiden and I kept crossing paths. At first, he threatened me. He held the incident over my head, teasing, smirking. Our first real hangout wasn't voluntary—I had been blackmailed into watching movies at his place after he claimed to have taken photos of me sleeping naked. I later found out they didn't exist.
It became a strange sort of game.
Until the night that changed everything.
We had been getting closer, the lines between us blurring with every interaction. And then, one night, we were tangled together on his bed, watching a movie. When it ended, we said goodnight.
And then he kissed me.
A simple peck. Soft. Thoughtless.
But when we pulled away, we both froze.
Aiden looked at me like he was seeing a stranger. Confused. As if something inside him had shifted. He leaned in again, his lips hovering near mine—but I turned away. His hand shot out, grabbing my waist, tugging me close. His grip loosened but didn't let go.
Nothing else was said.
My heart pounded. My body burned where his fingers touched. I barely slept that night.
And as soon as I woke up, I left.
I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling once more. The Aiden from that night felt like a ghost compared to the one I had seen today.
I turned on my side, pressing a hand to my throat where his fingers had been hours ago.
Aiden had changed.
And I wasn't sure if I had ever really known him at all.