Stella slowly pulled her trembling hands away from Brandon's hard abdomen and clenched them into fists. She hoped never to ride on a motorcycle again, but if their agreement was to continue, Stella could already guess she would unfortunately find herself on this vehicle again in the future. Getting off the motorcycle wasn't too much of a struggle, but when it came to the helmet, she realized there was no easy escape. As she cursed under her breath, Brandon pulled her to his side by the arm, leaving her no chance to protest as she fought to catch her breath, suddenly finding herself under his arm. Just as she was about to complain about all this pulling, Brandon reached for her helmet and, with a practiced motion, released her. Stella frowned at the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She didn't know if he had ever had a girlfriend before, but she also didn't understand why she should care. Besides, someone wouldn't be good with helmets just because they had a girlfriend—or used to, right? She pushed aside the urge to shake her head and tried to forget the nonsense she had come up with. Her nerves, now completely frayed, were really giving her a hard time.
"Stella." Although it wasn't the first time she had heard him say her name, Stella hated the warmth that spread inside her every time. She couldn't get used to being this affected, to letting herself go this much—and she couldn't stand it! Despite the turmoil raging inside, she raised her eyes to Brandon's face with a weary expression. "Our agreement is limited to you covering for me about the lies I told my family, and me protecting you from danger until you get used to it. If these boundaries are crossed, the deal is off. I have a stake in this, just like you do, but that doesn't mean there are no limits. So next time, be careful."
Stella frowned and lowered her head. She was aware she was being scolded, but she also knew she deserved it. From the beginning, Brandon had given her a hard time about personal boundaries, and despite their fake relationship starting only two weeks ago, she had already made a significant breach of personal space. The lights were off in their small house, meaning her mother had stayed late at work again. As she turned her head towards Brandon, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. "I didn't mean to overstep, but you expect me to lie without even knowing what it's about. If you had answered my questions, I wouldn't have been so stubborn." Brandon let out an exasperated sigh and paused. Normally, he wouldn't even bother to stay in the same space, let alone take the trouble to warn someone. For him, there was no line when it came to a mistake—a mistake couldn't be erased, and Brandon wouldn't erase it. You made a mistake, the deal was off. But he couldn't do it; he couldn't just dismiss Stella as easily as he wanted to, and he couldn't ignore her. Did this irritate him, or was he slowly getting used to it? He wasn't sure, but tolerating her wasn't bothering him as much as it should. What really bothered him was how many of his principles seemed to bend for Stella. And he was doing it all on his own, without her asking for it.
"You ask too many questions. I told you, no questions."
"All you ever do is remind me of what I'm not allowed to do! Everyone already thinks we're together, and if you were going to spread something like that, shouldn't I have known about it first? Is being my boyfriend the only way to protect me? Couldn't you just have said you were my brother or cousin?"
Brandon looked at her frowning face, and without knowing why, his anger subsided. Fuck this effect. Even when he tried to escape it by looking away from her, it wasn't easy, not while her gaze was still fixed on him. Especially when ignoring the way his jacket fit her was becoming a struggle that made him want to splash cold water on his face. "That wouldn't have worked because, unlike you, everyone in this town knows me, and they know I have no one besides my father and my brother." As Stella felt her anger subside a little at his words, Brandon continued. "And besides, you heard the town's reputation before you even got here. This isn't the kind of place where people care about brothers or cousins because the justice system here died years ago."
The justice system died—aside from her mother being assigned here as a judge, there was no problem with what she had just heard. Luna had been working so hard that hours were turning into days, and days into weeks; there was no other way to establish order. There wasn't. No matter what she did, she couldn't find a way out because this town was a full-fledged crime town. Unprosecuted crimes and criminals ruled the streets, and no matter how hard they tried, nothing led to any resolution because nobody was interested in ratting anyone out. The police and other government employees kept the past before Luna's arrival a secret, like a buried truth. And most importantly, they tried to cover things up by lying and accusing Luna of making things up. But if Luna Solaria were the type to give up easily, she wouldn't have dared to bring her daughter to such a town in the first place.
When Stella averted her eyes, Brandon quickly understood the reason. Although he felt a strong urge to comfort her, the same inner voice reminded him that he shouldn't dwell on it too much. Still, unable to bear seeing her sad face, he felt the need to offer a small reassuring word. "I don't know your mother, but no matter how shitty this town is, she won't get hurt, don't worry." While Stella gave a barely perceptible nod to brush it off, Brandon, signaling his desire to leave, placed the helmet in the small locked compartment at the back and turned his motorbike on again, facing Stella. "Wait," she said as he noticed her removing his jacket just before lowering the visor. "Keep it. Every now and then, when you get cold, wear it so people believe we're together."
"So, people will be convinced we're dating just because I wear your jacket? Does wearing a jacket mean you're someone's girlfriend around here?" Stella giggled, a rare sound, but Brandon swiftly regained composure, giving her a stern, insincere look that quickly cut off her laughter. "If the jacket you're wearing has my team number and surname on it, yes. That's exactly what it means."
Stella blinked, processing Brandon's words for a moment, her eyes locked onto his as she tried to understand if she had heard him correctly. Finally, she thought to glance at the back of the jacket she had been removing, and upon seeing it, she swallowed hard. The name "WARD" and the number "13" were embroidered under the school name, "RED FOUNTAIN HIGH SCHOOL," with "PHANTOMS," the basketball team's name, beneath that. Stella had seen this on plenty of guys before and guessed they were part of the team, but she was only just finding out that Brandon was part of it, and not just any part—he wore the number 13, the captain's number.
Number 13, she knew, was considered unlucky, the number of misfortune, but Gardenia embraced it, trying to create some kind of irony. Many businesses around here with the number 13, and several other things marked by that number, held special significance. Stella first realized this when she had wanted to join the cheerleading squad and found herself face-to-face with the team leader in the 13 jersey. That had been a disaster of its own; the team princess hadn't even bothered to evaluate Stella, flat-out rejecting her without a second thought. Even though it was purely due to jealousy, Stella hadn't expected to face such hostility and friction right after arriving, so she had withdrawn into herself. After all, she didn't want to disrupt anyone's rhythm by joining late, especially in their senior year, but she had no intention of backing down or just standing idle either. Instead, she continued doing what she did best since childhood—ballet. She joined the small yet treasured ballet club, quickly becoming the instructor's favorite, though this had inevitably earned her the ire of several people.
When Stella finally mustered the courage to lift her head and meet Brandon's gaze, he was eyeing her from behind his usual cold and distant expression. Although it was time for him to leave, he hadn't made any move to do so. "I see." Stella's soft murmur caused Brandon to furrow his brow as she took a few steps back, moving out of his way. Brandon hesitated, then revved the motorbike engine, lowering the visor. He gave her one last look. Normally, he would wait for her to go inside first, but knowing Nabu was already in enough trouble wasn't a hard guess. Revving the engine once more, he finally sped off, cursing silently at the emptiness forming inside him as he left.
At that moment, Stella sighed and began walking toward the entrance of the house. She was aware of what she was getting herself into, but since she knew it wouldn't end with her being hurt, she tried not to dwell on it too much. Considering Brandon's involvement in something illegal, of course, having a girl whose mother was a judge serve as a witness was the safest escape route for him. Brandon had been clever, and Stella was just beginning to realize it. She had to admit that she felt rather used, but looking back at the first week and comparing it to these past three weeks, she noticed a significant change: no one dared mess with Stella. Although it wasn't so easy for anyone to approach her, she felt more in need of protection from those outside of school than those within. After all, those outside were bigger and more dangerous people. She rolled her eyes at her thoughts, realizing how simple it was to refer to drug addicts and, quite plainly, criminals without records as dangerous people. She recognized this, but sometimes she tried to console herself with such word games to diminish her fear. As she pulled the key away from the door lock she'd been struggling with for a straight minute and reached for her phone to turn on the light, a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. She screamed but was immediately silenced when a hand clamped over her mouth, and she found herself face-to-face with a pair of eyes that were way too close. Even though Stella trembled as she gazed into the blue eyes before her, it wasn't just these eyes that made her think of the 'dangerous men' she had feared.
Facing the man who presented himself as the leader, Stella didn't need to know how many bodies he had buried to feel afraid of him. In some situations, even if you knew how to fight just enough to protect yourself, it wasn't always enough. When fear overtakes strength, what follows is darkness. As her terrified eyes roamed over the blue irises in front of her, Axel grinned and took another step closer. With a flicker of hopelessness, Stella glanced toward the direction Brandon had gone, but she knew that wouldn't help her now—it was too late. "He's gone. No need to look," Axel said, and although she wanted to close her eyes to curse her bad luck, she forced herself to keep them open so as not to give away her fear. After a week of being stalked, harassed, and threatened by Axel, Stella hadn't seen him for the past two weeks. She owed that to Brandon, but now she understood she was hanging by a thread, and it was only a matter of time. With Brandon gone, the nightmare would continue. When she tried to push Axel away with trembling hands, the young man, probably four years her senior, narrowed his eyes. Stella had never seen such bright eyes darken like that, and an instant chill spread through her as Axel pressed her body against the wall, leaning into her. One of his hands caressed the exposed skin below her skirt. When Stella struggled and tried to push him away, the reaction she received was even harsher. As her head hit the wall, she felt an intense dizziness for a moment. This was violence—exactly the kind of situation she had read about, when helplessly scanning through news clippings, empathizing with the suffering of other women as though she herself were in their shoes. And she had no idea how to escape or what to do to improve the situation. As tears welled up in her eyes, part of it was because the hand covering her mouth and nose was cutting off her oxygen supply.
"Don't play games with me, princess. You can't be with anyone else when I'm not finished with you. Not yet." When Stella looked at the psychopath in front of her through her half-closed eyelids, she sensed that playing the fool might buy her some time. She obediently nodded her head as if she were agreeing, and Axel paused for a moment. In that brief hesitation, his grip loosened slightly, and Stella felt the relief of air filling her lungs more freely. When she mumbled something into his hand, indicating she wanted to say something, Axel frowned and completely withdrew his hand. Due to his looks, many girls couldn't say no to him, and some even boasted about losing their virginity to him. Because, as could be deduced from Stella, not every girl was his type. But Stella wasn't someone he could easily dismiss—he had never met a girl as pure and beautiful as her, and it was clear that she wasn't just a pretty face. This was precisely what Axel loved most.
"I need to say something," Stella coughed, and Axel rolled his eyes, stepping back a bit, waiting for her to breathe better. Of course, her sensitivity had an impact—Stella's fragile appearance was what had captivated him most. As Stella leaned against the wall, coughing, she pressed one hand to her stomach. With the other, she stealthily reached into her pocket under the cover of darkness and grasped the pepper spray, feeling a surge of relief. Thankful she hadn't dropped her keys and fully aware that she had to act quickly, she lifted her head within five seconds, fixing her tired gaze on those hellish blue eyes. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch." Axel growled in surprise, and before he could react, Stella sprayed the pepper spray into his face without a hint of mercy. As Axel lunged at her with a scream, Stella quickly ran toward the garden, spraying him again. She circled around him, trying to disorient him as he cursed her in frustration. Without waiting for him to regain his bearings, she bolted toward the entrance door. Thankful that fate was on her side, she flung the door open, slammed it shut behind her, and immediately began locking all the numerous bolts on the door, her hands trembling as she secured it like a bank vault.
Her shaking hands and flowing tears were undeniable evidence that she was far from calm. With the last bolt secured, she collapsed to her knees in front of the door, sobbing uncontrollably. She didn't know how many times she had narrowly escaped rape, but Stella was growing tired. As her hands unclenched from the pepper spray, she once again thanked her mother for giving it to her. She knew calling the police would be pointless, and even if she did, it would only serve to frighten her mother. No, the solution she had found for this situation was to pretend to be in a relationship with the feared person, and if that didn't work, then why was she enduring all of this? Shaking her head, she covered her ears to block out the curses and shouting coming from outside. It was certainly a nightmare, but this time, waking up wasn't an option.
As her hand reached into her pocket, the tears streaming from her eyes were no longer just from fear—this time, disappointment and anger accompanied them. "Damn it, damn it!" Her trembling voice defied the shaking of her hands as Stella, through blurry tears, barely managed to unlock her phone and press on Brandon's name. The phone rang, but he didn't pick up. He had probably left it behind when he rushed out of the club. While it wasn't entirely his fault, Stella was too caught up in her victimhood to feel guilty about it now.
Though her fingers wouldn't stop trembling, she slowly began typing a message, meticulously checking for any spelling mistakes, despite her usual obsession with them. Later, when she calmed down, she would understand why people always say you shouldn't make decisions or speak in anger. When her phone slipped from her shaking hands and fell to the floor, Stella, having already sent the message, leaned back against the door and continued to sob quietly. The only light in the hallway came from her phone's screen, where the message was still visible.
