Innocent cravings

Chapter 16-crossroads

Brian's POV

The day had been long, the kind of day where numbers blurred on screens and voices in boardrooms sounded like echoes in an empty cave. He had spent hours moving from one meeting to another, nodding at proposals, countering suggestions, watching faces that were polite but never warm. It was the life he knew, the one that came with his family name and their expectations. Every detail had to be perfect, every move strategic. His father's shadow stretched across every step he took, a reminder that nothing he did was entirely his own.

When he finally stepped out into the night, the cool air hit him like a relief he hadn't known he was waiting for. He loosened his tie, sliding into his car, already imagining the silence of his apartment. But as he drove past the quiet street that led toward campus, he caught sight of her.

Alice.

She was carrying two bags of groceries that seemed heavier than they should have been. The street was dim, one of those areas where the lampposts flickered instead of glowed, but he knew it was her instantly. There was no mistaking that posture, the stubborn determination in the way she kept walking even when it was clear she was struggling.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened before he slowed the car beside her.

She noticed, of course. Her head turned sharply, her expression wary, like a cornered cat ready to dart away. For a second, she actually looked like she was considering running.

He lowered the window. "Need a ride?"

"No." Her answer was clipped, fast. She kept walking.

He followed slowly in the car, refusing to let the moment slip away. "Alice, those bags look heavy. Just get in. I'll drop you off."

She stopped suddenly and turned toward him, frustration burning in her eyes. "Why do you keep doing this?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a man who commanded entire rooms, who negotiated deals worth millions, it struck him how easily she could leave him speechless.

"I don't need saving," she said. "Not from you. Not from anyone."

He got out of the car then, closing the door with deliberate calm. "I know you don't. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you walk home alone in the dark carrying half your weight in groceries."

Her jaw tightened. She clutched the bags like shields. "I'm fine."

He reached for one of the bags, slowly, giving her the chance to pull away. She didn't. Instead, she watched him with guarded eyes as he relieved her of the heavier one and set it gently on the hood of his car.

"Please," he said, his voice softer than he meant it to be. "Let me drive you home."

Something shifted in her gaze then. Not agreement, not yet, but something more fragile. Reluctance. Weariness. She finally exhaled, a small sigh that told him she was done fighting this particular battle.

"Fine," she muttered. "But only because my arms are about to fall off."

He almost smiled. Almost. He picked up the bags, placed them carefully in the back seat, and opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated for another heartbeat, then slid in without looking at him.

The drive started in silence. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful but filled with tension, every unsaid word pressing between them. He kept his eyes on the road, but he was more aware of her than anything else. The way she sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window as if the world outside could protect her from the world inside the car.

Finally, she spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

He glanced at her, surprised. "Doing what?"

"This." She turned to him, and for the first time that night, her eyes met his fully. They were sharp, unflinching. "Following me. Showing up. Offering rides. Looking at me like, like you want something. So tell me, Brian. What do you want from me?"

Her words sliced through the silence like a blade. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, forcing himself to breathe evenly. She deserved honesty. She deserved more than the careful, measured answers he gave everyone else.

"You," he said simply.

The word hung there, raw and unpolished.

She blinked, as if she hadn't expected him to say it out loud. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. He could see the battle in her eyes, the war between disbelief and the emotions she kept trying to bury.

"Why?" she whispered.

He pulled the car to a stop outside her apartment building. He turned off the engine but didn't move, didn't look away from her. "Because you're real. Because when I'm around you, I don't have to pretend. Because I've tried not to want you, Alice, and it's impossible."

For a long moment, she just stared at him. He thought she might say something, anything, but she didn't. Instead, she slowly unbuckled her seatbelt, her movements careful, almost fragile.

"Thank you for the ride," she said softly, her voice trembling despite her attempt to keep it steady.

He watched her step out of the car, gather her bags, and walk toward her building without looking back. Each step she took away from him felt like a weight pressing deeper into his chest.

Brian's hand clenched into a fist on his knee. He wanted to follow, to say more, to make her understand. But he didn't. He stayed there, in the car, in the silence, and let her go.

Alice's POV

Her hands were still shaking as she closed the apartment door behind her. She set the bags down on the counter and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

His words replayed in her mind on a loop. You.

She pressed a hand to her chest as if that would calm the storm building inside. She had expected him to deny it, to laugh it off, to say he was just being polite. But he hadn't. He had said it plainly, directly, without hesitation.

And that scared her more than anything.

She paced the small living room, running her fingers through her hair. He was supposed to be off limits. Untouchable. Engaged. A man with a life so far from hers it might as well have been another planet. Yet every time he looked at her, she felt that careful wall she had built around herself start to crack.

She hated it. She hated how much her heart had raced when he spoke, how her stomach had knotted when she looked into his eyes and saw no lies there. She hated that a part of her wanted to believe him.

And worst of all, she hated how much she wanted him back.

Dropping onto the couch, she buried her face in her hands. Sophie's warnings echoed in her ears, the sharp edge of her friend's voice telling her not to get too close. Clarissa's fury was already dangerous enough. Adding feelings to the mix would only make everything worse.

She told herself she wouldn't see him again. That this was the end of it. That she could still walk away before it became something she couldn't control.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

It was already too late.

Brian's POV

He drove home slowly, each turn of the wheel heavier than the last. He should have felt relieved for finally saying it, for finally letting the truth slip past his defenses. Instead, he felt the ache of her silence.

Her face when he said it lingered in his mind, the shock, the fear, the way she seemed to fold in on herself as if the words were both too much and not enough. He had broken through her walls, but he wasn't sure if she would ever forgive him for it.

By the time he reached his apartment, the night felt colder. He sat in the car long after the engine was off, staring at nothing, replaying the moment again and again.

What do you want from me?

You.

The word had been honest. It had been everything. But as the silence grew, he couldn't help but wonder if honesty would ever be enough.