When the Script Changes

Chapter 6: When the Walls Crumble

So Becky pushed harder.

"Or is this just a game to you?" Becky asked, voice laced with frustration. "Do you just like knowing you have control over me? Because if that's all this is, then—"

Freen moved.

And suddenly—

Becky was against the wall.

Freen's hands were on either side of her, trapping her in place, her breath warm and uneven.

"Don't," Freen warned, voice low, dangerous, desperate.

Becky's heart pounded.

"Don't what?" she challenged.

Freen exhaled sharply.

And then—

"Don't say things like that when you know damn well you're the only one who has control over me."

Becky's breath caught.

Freen was too close.

So close that Becky could see every emotion flickering in her eyes—anger, frustration, desire.

Freen shook her head, almost like she was angry at herself.

"I've tried," Freen admitted, voice raw. "I've tried to push this away. I've tried to pretend it's not real. But I can't."

Becky swallowed hard.

Freen's fingers twitched against the wall, like she was resisting the urge to touch her.

"I don't want you with Lena," Freen confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you with anyone else."

Becky felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Because finally.

Finally, Freen was saying it.

"Say it," Becky whispered, her own voice shaking.

Freen exhaled, closing her eyes for half a second—just enough time for Becky to see how hard this was for her.

And then—

"I want you, Becky."

The words hit like a punch to the chest.

Becky's pulse roared in her ears.

And then Freen broke.

She moved before she could think—

Her hands slid from the wall to Becky's waist, pulling her close.

Their noses brushed, their breaths mingled, their bodies pressed together in the most dangerous, intoxicating way.

Freen was looking at her like she was everything.

Becky's knees nearly gave out.

"I want you," Freen repeated, softer this time. More vulnerable.

Becky's heart ached.

Because this wasn't just jealousy.

This wasn't just possessiveness.

This was love.

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Freen's fingers tightened on Becky's waist.

She was so close.

So close that Becky could practically feel the way she was trembling with restraint.

"Tell me to stop," Freen murmured.

Becky couldn't.

Because she didn't want her to stop.

Instead, she whispered, "Don't you dare."

Freen groaned, forehead dropping against Becky's.

And Becky?

Becky was ready.

She was ready to close that final gap.

She was ready to drown in this.

But then—

The door to the bar swung open.

"Becky?"

Lena's voice.

Becky flinched.

Freen tensed.

And just like that—

The moment shattered.

Freen stepped back as if she had been burned.

Becky exhaled sharply, her chest aching from the loss of contact.

Lena frowned, looking between them. "Everything okay?"

Becky swallowed hard.

Freen didn't look at her.

Didn't say a word.

And before Becky could even reach for her—

Freen turned and walked away.

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Becky didn't go back inside.

She stood there, still pressed against the wall, her chest rising and falling like she had just run a marathon.

Because damn it.

Freen had almost given in.

She had almost kissed her.

She had almost stayed.

But she didn't.

She ran.

Again.

And Becky?

Becky wasn't sure how many more times she could handle watching her leave.