Ren clicked the door shut behind him.
Vi didn't turn or look up from where she was seated at her study desk. She just sat there — writing, jaw set, hoodie sleeves rolled over her arms. Ren tossed his car keys onto the desk, and leaned down to hug her from behind.
She shrugged herself out of his hug, so he sighed. Straightened.
"I guess I'm not forgiven yet," he said, then plopped himself on Vi's bed. The mattress bowed beneath his weight.
Vi didn't say anything.
Ren planted his elbows on the top of his knees, looked at Vi and asked, "You called me here to what? Just ignore my majestic, charming presence?"
Vi closed her eyes for a fleeting moment. Then turned to him, still seated. "I waited in the cold, Ren," she whispered, eyes locked on his. "I kept telling myself you'd show."
Ren sighed, brushed a hand over his face. "I wanted to."
"But you didn't."
"I was scared, okay?" he said, all serious. "Happy now?"
"Scared of what?"
He looked at her straight in the eyes and lied, "Of how much I wanted you. I knew that if I got there, I wouldn't be able to control myself any longer after the night ended.
That stopped her for a second. Ren and Vi have been together for months, but the far they gotten... sexually... was dry humping, excessively making out, and exchanging dirty talks. They'd never done the actual deed. Vi said she wasn't ready, and Ren said he respected that. In truth? He actually just didn't want to do it. With her.
But it seemed liked it was now time to get out from the trouble he was in by insinuating that he wanted to do the deed that shall not be named. He'd just pretend he was with Jeff, and not his daughter. And he'd do to her what her father had always done to him in the four years they'd been together.
Vi stood up.
Ren sat up straight.
She walked over to Ren, then sat on his lap, and wrapped her arms around him.
He ran his hand from her throat down her side, fingertips dragging over the hem of her hoodie, grazing bare skin beneath.
"You're still scared?" she asked, voice soft.
"No." He leaned in, mouth brushing her jaw, breath hot. "Now I'm starving."
His lips met hers — slow, but rough around the edges, like he'd been holding back all day and didn't know how anymore, even though that wasn't the case.
She kissed him back, hard. Furious. Starved. Then shoved him back on the bed, her legs now straddling his waist.
His hands went to her hips. Hers found his hoodie, yanked it up. He let her strip it off, watching her with fire in his eyes. His t-shirt followed. Then her bra.
He sat back up. "You always run hot," he murmured, kissing the curve of her neck. "It's like you're burning up for me."
"Maybe I am," she breathed. "And maybe I want you to feel it."
She yanked his hair. He grinned against her throat. Like father, like daughter.
"You're still angry," he said.
"You're quite observant," she snapped, grinding against him. "Make it up to me."
He flipped them over and hovered over her, breathing hard. His hands moved slow on her body, like he was committing every inch of her to memory. Like touching her was more than just want. It was worship. His mouth followed. He kissed her hard.
And when she moaned his name — frustrated, breathless, impatient — he looked up at her with that cocky grin both he knew she and her father hated and loved.
"I told you I'd make up for it in other ways," Ren murmured.
Vi's body arched beneath him, her eyes dazed, hips pinned under his body. He bound her wrists above her head with one hand. Then leaned down, mouth brushing her ear. "You're mine tonight. Say it."
"I'm yours."
"Louder."
"I'm yours, Ren!"
His eyes burned into hers. And then—
His phone suddenly rang — an incongruously upbeat song by Alan Walker. That shattered everything.
He cursed under his breath and leaned over to grab the phone. The screen lit up.
'Rhea, calling.'
Vi saw it.
"Don't answer," she said quickly, pulse rising for an entirely different reason now.
"This? Again?"
Vi's heart dropped.
"Ren," her voice cracked, "don't."
Ren hesitated for a second. The ringing continued. Her wrists were still bound with his other hand. Her chest bare. Her trust stretched thinner than her breaths.
"She never calls this late unless it's important," he muttered.
"She knows you're with me." Vi's tone darkened. "She knows."
He looked between her and the phone, jaw tight.
And then— he released her and answered the call, "Hey. What's wrong?"
Vi shut her eyes. Fury bloomed in her chest like fire under skin.
He stood up, walked over to the window, back to her, voice soft as he tallked. Too soft. The soft he never used with her.
She couldn't move, couldn't cover herself, couldn't breathe through the knot in her throat. She just listened.
To Rhea.
To Ren choosing her for the umpteenth time.
He ended the call two minutes later and turned back.
But the damage was done.
Vi was staring at him, jaw clenched, expression unreadable.
"Babe, I told you there's nothing between me and Rhea," Ren told her, trying to reassure her. "She's my childhood friend, and I've never seen her any differently, I swear."
She sat up slowly, tugging the sheet around her. "You always pick her."
"She needed—"
"Don't. Just don't."
Neither of them spoke.
Ren sat back on the bed, trying to hug Vi, to bring back the mood.
And then after a long pregnant pause, Vi said, "You don't even see how much that girl takes from me. From us."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not like that—"
"It is." She turned, eyes welling with tears but angry. "Every time you say you're mine, she calls — and you remind me I'm not. Not really."
Ren stared at her. Something shifted behind his eyes. He flipped the switches. "What exactly do you want from me, Vi? Do you want me to cut her out of my life? Will that make you feel better?"
Vi didn't answer.
He cupped her face, caressed her cheeks. "Because I'll do it. If you say the word. If that's what it takes."
She looked up, uncertain.
"But don't lie to me, or yourself, babe," he said. "Don't act like what we have between us doesn't mean more than any damn phone call."