I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
Patréon.com/emperordragon
________________________________________
Chapter 93: Aftertaste
Lydia's Perspective
Lydia leaned back against the stall door, her chest rising and falling as if she'd just run a marathon. Her lips still tingled, and her mind, normally so precise and untouchable, felt scattered.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
She had gone into the boys' bathroom intending to play a game. Push Lucas's buttons. Make Jackson jealous. Keep herself entertained. Easy. Predictable. That's how it always worked—she pulled the strings, and boys danced.
But Lucas hadn't danced. He hadn't flattered her, hadn't stumbled over his words. He saw her coming from a mile away and still managed to resist. Until he didn't.
Her fingers brushed against her own lips, betraying her thoughts. That kiss hadn't been like the others—no posturing, no ego. Lucas kissed her like he meant it, like he couldn't help himself. And worse… she had kissed him the same way.
Get a grip, Lydia.
She tried to smother the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. This was dangerous. Lucas wasn't like Jackson. Jackson was easy to manipulate, easy to forgive when he slipped up because his vanity made him predictable. Lucas, on the other hand, was steady, unreadable in ways that annoyed her and intrigued her all at once.
And then there was the way he'd pulled her into the stall, protective and sharp at the same time. Not panicked, not fumbling—just controlled, decisive. The kind of thing that made her pulse quicken far more than she wanted to admit.
She told herself it was strategy, that getting closer to Lucas could be useful. He was strong, respected, annoyingly calm under pressure. Having someone like that wrapped around her finger? Valuable.
But when she thought back to the heat of his kiss, the steadiness of his hands, the way his eyes had locked onto hers—her heart gave her away.
Because if she was honest with herself, really honest—
this wasn't just about strategy anymore.
Lydia Martin never lost control. Except, apparently, around Lucas.
By the time Lydia walked out of the boys' bathroom, her lipstick was perfect again, hair smoothed, composure restored. If anyone had seen her minutes before—pressed against a stall door, breathing fast, lips swollen—they'd never believe it now. That was Lydia's gift: no cracks, no tells.
She spotted Jackson down the hall leaning against a locker, his usual posture—half boredom, half posing. The sight of him used to make her stomach flip. Now, it just… didn't.
Still, she slipped back into her role without hesitation.
"Hey, handsome," she said lightly, voice syrup-sweet as she touched Jackson's arm.
Jackson's smirk spread instantly, ego fed on cue. "There you are. Thought you were hiding from me."
"Hiding? From you?" Lydia tilted her head, eyes wide with feigned innocence. "As if I could."
Jackson chuckled, satisfied. Not a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. He never doubted her. That was the beauty of Jackson—he was so convinced of his own importance that the idea of Lydia being interested in someone else wouldn't even cross his mind.
As he launched into a story about practice, Lydia nodded, laughed in the right places, smiled when he wanted her to. But inside her head, the memory of Lucas lingered. The steadiness of his hands. The way he'd kissed her.
And she hated that she couldn't shake it.
Jackson leaned closer, brushing a kiss against her temple, and Lydia let him. To anyone watching, they were still the golden couple—perfect, untouchable. Exactly as she wanted it.
But her pulse betrayed her. It wasn't racing for Jackson.
And as Lydia smiled up at him, her mind whispered a dangerous truth she refused to say aloud: He'll never know. He can't know. And yet… I can't stop thinking about Lucas.
Lucas's Perspective
I leaned against the cool tile of the bathroom stall after Lydia left, letting out a long breath I didn't even know I was holding. My pulse was still hammering in my ears, and if I closed my eyes I could still feel her lips, her nails, the heat of it all.
It was intoxicating. And it caught me off guard.
Because I knew better. I knew exactly who Lydia was, what she was capable of. Smart, manipulative, gorgeous—too gorgeous—and tangled up with Jackson. Off-limits. Completely off-limits.
And yet, the moment she leaned in, all that logic had burned away. My self-control—something I prided myself on—shattered under the weight of teenage hormones and the simple truth of the heat between us. For a few reckless minutes, that had been enough.
Now, with the fire cooling, regret started crawling in.
What were you thinking?
I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to erase the memory, but it clung stubbornly. It wasn't just a kiss. It wasn't just a mistake. It was a warning—how quickly I could lose myself if I wasn't careful.
Desire tugged at me still, whispering that it had felt good, that part of me wanted more. But I clenched my jaw and shoved it down. I couldn't go down that road. Not with Lydia.
This had to stay what it was.
A slip.
Nothing more.
I straightened, forced my breathing steady, and checked myself in the mirror. No redness, no flustered look—good. No one needed to know what just happened. Especially not Jackson.
By the time I walked out of the bathroom and back into the hallway, my face was calm, my stride steady. Just another student heading back to class like nothing had happened.
And that's exactly how it was going to stay.