Limerence (Fated Fixation, #1)

by H.C. Dolores

His gaze keeps me rooted to the spot. “I like you, sweetheart. I like you a lot. We’re not friends. We’re going to be more than that.”

*clutches chest as I fall to the ground and wail* *Mortal Kombat voice* "FATALITY!"

My eyes must be the size of dinner plates right now. “You say that like you’ve already decided it.” There’s not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice or his face. “Because I have. I like you. I’m interested in you, and I want to explore that interest.” There’s a long beat of silence that stretches between us. And then I laugh.

girl, I'm giggling, too 😭💗

“Please,” he cuts me off sharply. “This morning, when you looked at him, it took every ounce of my self-control to avoid walking over to Freddy Rook and bashing his skull in till he was no longer worth looking at. You do this to me.”

Oh? Go on. 👀😈🤭💗💗💗💗

That admission should, at the very least, terrify me – which is why I have no explanation for the flash of heat that lights in my lower belly. What the fuck is wrong with me?

It's ok, my girl. You're a villain fucker, too. Welcome to the club.

“Well, you haven’t asked how I feel. You may have spontaneously decided you’re into me –” The realization sounds even crazier coming from my mouth than it does his. “But I can’t say the same.” The shadow of a crooked grin darkens his face. “You can’t?” I inhale sharply. “No. I’m just not interested in you like that.” The absurdity of this moment strikes me: I’m trying to friend zone Adrian Ellis. A downright predatory gleam sparks in his eyes. “Is that so?”

👁👄👁 *This action will have consequences later.*

His mouth curls up, no shame or guilt to be found. “Well, I never said I was a saint. Or above blackmail. You should get used to it.” “Should I?” “Yes.” There’s no room for argument in his tone. “You’re mine now.”

*chuckles as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear* So there's this guy....

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” I reply sarcastically. “A relationship built on a foundation of blackmail and secrets.”

😂😭😭

And when I check my notifications on the way back to the West Wing, my jaw drops. More than three hundred follow requests on Instagram. At least a hundred on the Facebook I never use anymore – and at least three people managed to find my Reddit. Jesus.

Not her Reddit! 😭

This is, by far, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever put on my body – and no doubt the most expensive. I don’t need a price tag to be sure of that second part. As delicate as it looks, it doesn’t feel like the upcycled fast fashion dresses I’d sometimes find in Mobile thrift stores, the ones that would start fraying almost immediately. No, this…the seams are sturdy, every stitch intentionally placed to emphasize all the right places. I can’t bring myself to take it off for a long time.

I love a FMC that can appreciate a good fucking dress

Growing up the way I have, I shouldn’t sweat a pretty gown and nice shoes – but poverty’s done nothing to make me immune to the thrall of luxury goods. So, when I open my mouth to tell him I hate it, what comes out instead is: “The dress is lovely.” I’m just going to have to be weak-willed and impeccably dressed.

And that's that on that 💗

Molly invites me to get ready for the dance in her dorm room. I’m not sure why I say yes – well, I do know why. It’s because Molly’s offer comes with the complimentary services of a professional hairstylist and makeup artist, which saves me from trying to dig my ten-year-old curling iron out of the closet. The last time I tried using it, it nearly electrocuted me to death.

Girl! 😭

Another round of giggling ensues, but I find myself swallowing, an unexpected image flashing through my brain: it’s Adrian, naked and rippling with lean muscle as one of his hands – No, no, no. I’m not going there. We haven’t even kissed. I probably shouldn’t be imagining him naked till we’ve crossed into first-base territory.

👀👀👀👀👀😈💗💗

“Remember that Cedarsville Lacrosse player I went out with last year? Now that was bad,” Molly chimes in before turning to me. “You have no idea how lucky you are, Poppy. Adrian’s one of the genuine ones. He doesn’t put on a face like most guys do.” I have to fight the urge to laugh because Molly is, unfortunately, not making an ironic joke. She has no idea. They’ll only ever know Adrian as the shining ideal of generosity and kindness. They’ll never know him like I do.

No, because if they did they'd be thank you for your community service 😭🙏

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Adrian leads me through the ballroom without so much as a glance toward the party that’s already in full swing. He’s too busy looking at me. “At least three times,” I respond as if I’m not basking in his attention like a cat in the sun. Because, while my stomach may be a knotted mess, I have zero complaints that Adrian hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me since I descended the West Wing stairs and he hooked an arm through mine.

I love them, Your Honor

“Precisely.” He takes a swig of what I assume is some sort of sparkling cider, eyes gleaming. “A pretty little doll that I get to show off…and only I get to touch.” His words are threaded with something greedy and possessive – and it sends an unexpected shot of heat straight through me. I should not like this.

Oh, that's a line that's going straight to the dome.

But here I am – a normal girl having a normal night at a normal school dance with a very normal boy. Maybe the universe is throwing me a bone. One normal high school experience to make up for a lifetime of lackluster ones.

I'm happy for her 🥺💗

“Four years of my life. I’ve done everything. No makeup. Tons of makeup. Brown hair. Blonde hair, which –” She tugs on a piece of her red hair and scoffs. “Looked awful on me, by the way. I’ve done clingy. I’ve played hard to get. I’ve tried making him jealous. I’ve done everything, and he’s never so much as looked twice at me. He’s never looked twice at anyone. To be honest, I was starting to think he was just asexual or something.” Sophie points an acrylic nail in my direction. “But then you come along, and he’s all over you. So, before this year ends, before I move on with my life and marry someone worth my time and energy, I want to know. Tell me what you have that I don’t.”

That is... actually, really sad, I'm not gonna lie.

I can’t keep the smile off my face. It’s not funny – not really – but I think it may be about the only explanation Sophie would buy. The sad charity case and the boy with the bleeding heart who couldn’t resist. It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

FOR REAL

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Your proposal was really nice too. It’s just…” You never really stood a chance the moment Adrian decided he was interested in me. He waves me off. “You and Adrian have a thing. I get it. As I said, no explanation needed.” I’m not sure I stand much of a chance, either.

no fr 😭

“Oh, well, auction’s over now,” Freddy replies, one bushy eyebrow raised. “And you weren’t here.” “No, I suppose not.” Adrian is calm and measured. Only the tightening hand around my waist signals his displeasure. Freddy is smiling, and Adrian is smiling, and I’m smiling – but it feels like I’ve been strapped with chew toys and thrown into the ring with a golden retriever and a pissed-off panther. One of us is blissfully unaware of the danger here, and it’s not me.

Oh, he's most *definitely* his pound of flesh later 😭

“Poppy!” Freddy calls. “I forgot to tell you. You look gorgeous tonight!” I don’t even have time to open my mouth before Adrian whirls around, his fist colliding with Freddy’s face in a sickening crunch.

OH MY GOD

“It’s my fault, Dean,” Adrian says, hands held up in surrender as if his knuckles aren’t splattered with blood. Freddy’s blood. I cast a glance toward the Lacrosse player and cringe. His nose is gushing blood, his eyes swollen shut – the extent of damage Adrian was able to do in three seconds is baffling. If they’d been alone, if Adrian had been given ten more seconds unbothered… It makes my stomach lurch.

oh he was about to kill that man

Adrian rakes a bloody hand through his curls and stares at Freddy in horror. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to do this. I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I don’t know what came over me.”

Murderous rage. That's what came over him. 😭😭

Adrian’s lips knock into mine, swallowing my words, my anger, my surprise. There’s no gentle build-up – no gentleness at all – as he shoves me against the bathroom counter, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth.

OH HELLO 👁👄👁💗💗

Disheveled is not a word that I’d attach to Adrian Ellis in any other circumstance, but with his hair mussed in a million directions, his pupils blown wide with desire, and a sheen of pink coating his cheeks, I can’t think of one more fitting. And I’m the one who made him this way. The thought sparks more satisfaction than it probably should.

I love them so much it hurts

I swing around to face him. “What you did tonight? That was fucked up.” His eyes narrow. “Was it? Because I walked away for ten minutes, and Freddy Rook was fawning all over you. Buying you ugly, little trinkets like he has the right to buy you anything at all.” There’s a dangerous edge to his tone that suggests I’m treading a thin line, but I’m too pissed off to care.

This boy is so possessive that I'm actually not sure if he's not the type to stoop down to pissing on her to mark his territory, like ADRIAN PLEASE 😭✋✋✋

My heart drops into my stomach when his smile turns downright predatory. “Well, I never said I wasn’t a bad guy.” He cups my cheek gently. “But right now, I’m your bad guy.”

Exactly 🙂‍↕️💗

He leans down, his mouth skimming the shell of my ear. “I think you liked it.” There’s nowhere for me to go, but I rear back anyway. “What? You could’ve killed him. No part of me liked that.” He doesn’t even look remotely convinced by my denial. “Really?” “Yes. Really,” I snap. “You may get off needless violence. I don’t.” His dark eyes bore into mine. “Maybe not the violence on its own…but I think you like seeing how far I’ll go.” He brushes a stray hair out of my face. “How dirty I’m willing to get. For you.”

Oh, he's reading her like a damn book 🤭💗

His eyes are uncharacteristically soft, but his voice is as hard as steel. “You know I would’ve kept going if nobody was around to break the fight up, right? Maybe I would’ve killed him. Or just beat him within an inch of his life. And I would’ve done it for you.” His hand tightens almost painfully around my jaw, eyes flashing. “Just for you. For the sole crime of thinking he ever had a chance with you. Don’t tell me that kind of devotion doesn’t interest you.” I have no explanation for the unbearable surge of heat that shoots through my lower belly.

yeah 😮‍💨🦋🫶

“You’re wrong,” is all I can manage, each word as strained as I feel. “Am I?” His other hand glides under my dress and up the smooth skin of my thigh. And dips right into my panties. My breath catches. Is he going to… Two fingers skim my folds teasingly, but to my surprise, that’s as far as it goes. His hand slips out of my underwear as quickly as it slipped in – but this time, it’s coated in me. I flush. I hadn’t expected him to check for evidence, but that’s exactly what this is: evidence that some part of me – maybe subconscious, maybe only physical – is attracted to this sort of dark, twisted toxicity. He pops the fingers in his mouth with a shameless smile and then drawls, “Right. I’m projecting.” I hate how even that sparks something in me. This is so fucked up.

He might my new favorite man. He might really fucking be. 😮‍💨💗💗

His eyes flash and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “You’re right, sweetheart. I am a control-freak. I’m an Ellis – it might as well be built into my DNA. I’ve got a stubborn streak a mile long and I never learned to share. What belongs to me –” He hooks a finger under my chin. “ – belongs to me. If you think I’m going to entertain someone else even thinking they might have a chance with you, you must not have been paying very close attention tonight.”

No, for real;;;

“You’re a monster,” I whisper. He just blinks at me – unfazed. “You knew that already,” he says quietly and strokes the mark he left on my neck. “But I’m a monster infatuated.”

He is and he's right 💗

I stand in the gravel driveway of Rick and Mom’s very humble abode, Adrian’s parting gift strapped to my back– a new leather bookbag. It’s not a big deal. You need a backpack anyway, he’d said, but the subtext was clear: I needed a backpack that hadn’t come from Freddy. An unreasonably possessive gesture, but it was hard to argue with five thousand dollars worth of calfskin leather. Here’s to hoping it survives the Alabama humidity.

My Capricorn Venus is very pleased with him 💗

It takes at least two minutes to subdue the racing thoughts in my head, and even then, I know I’m fucked. Because of all the things I thought I was coming home to, the boy whose life I ruined is not one of them.

oh gods, girl

“Oh, honey!” Mom visibly lights up and leans over to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek. “How was your day? The house looks great. That was so nice of you to clean up.” Rick grunts in agreement, and after all that’s happened today, I find it surprisingly easy to brush off the twinge of annoyance that Rick’s taking credit for what I did.

gods this house would send me to drink

“But I could run to the store,” she continues. “See if they have something on sale.” Her gaze flickers to me. “Would you be okay with sliders over a grilled cheese, Poppy?” It shouldn’t upset me. It’s such a small thing to concede – except that I’m always conceding.

oh Poppy :(

I spoke to Rick this morning and hes concerned that you might be using drugs given some of your behavior lately. If thats true… Im extremely disappointed and we will be having a conversation later tonight.

what the fuck???

His gaze flits from disbelief to shock to something that’s achingly familiar. Hunger. It nearly rocks me to my core. Ian takes a step forward, and I resist the urge to flatten myself against the workbench. “How did you get in?” He asks, and before I can even drum up an answer, he adds, “I mean, the acceptance rate’s less than one percent, and tuition…” He pauses. “You must’ve gotten some sort of scholarship.” My heart flutters like a hummingbird as I remind myself, once again, that Ian has no idea. He can’t know.

Gods, GOOOOOOOOOODS 💀💀😭

Ian might know that I attend his dream school, but he doesn’t seem to remember that I was there that day. Two rows, three chairs down. Taking the SSAT just like he was. And orchestrating the robbery of his future. A swell of panic burns in my chest. And now I just have to sit, wait, and hope he never pieces it all together.

gods....

“Sweetheart.” Every ounce of my smug attitude vanishes as I turn, the world tilting with me, and find Adrian Ellis following my mother into the kitchen. “Poppy,” Mom says in a tone that promises retribution in private. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was coming to visit.”

oh now it's about to get wicked

The comment has the intended effect, Mom’s shoulders immediately loosening and her smile turning a touch more genuine. “Well, aren’t you a charmer?” She teases. “And handsome, too. Not that I’d expect anything less – my daughter takes after her mama.” She laughs, but I don’t miss the way her gaze lingers on his sharp jawline or the broad shoulders currently straining against his white linen shirt. My jaw clenches, and I fight the sudden urge to snap: Don’t look at him. He’s mine.

POPPY! Down girl 😭✋

I cringe, unable to tell what’s worse: that Adrian has now met my mother or that my mother’s now met Adrian.

😭😭

His mouth meets my skin. “I think I like it when you say my name like that.” Unbidden, an image flashes through my head – Adrian’s body pressed into mine, my wrists pinned to the mattress, and me screaming his name. No, no, not now. Don’t think about this now. You’re supposed to be having a conversation. Still, I allow myself approximately three seconds to soak in the pleasure of the open-mouthed kisses he trails down my neck before pushing him away. And it takes just about every ounce of my self-control to do so.

My favorite monstrous pair 💗

Adrian pauses like he’s mulling the proposition over and then says, “Well, I’ll just blame it on the pregnancy hormones.” I go still. “What?” He cocks his head to the side, obsidian eyes sparkling. “How disappointed do you think she’d be to learn you’re about to be a teenage mom?”

No, because the way he is the epitome of, "When they go, I go LOWERRRRRR!"

“Right,” he drawls, his voice sharpening to a knife point. “And are you sure three weeks would’ve been enough to make yourself believe that what we have isn’t real?” “That’s not –” He raises one challenging eyebrow. “That’s what you mean by space, isn’t it, sweetheart? Take some time away. Clear your head. Convince yourself that your feelings for me aren’t genuine.”

OOP! And there it is....

“I can’t feed you a line. I can’t curate a version of myself that you’ll respond to because you already know exactly who I am. It’s why I’m so drawn to you. “And now I don’t know what to do with all these…” He shakes his head. “Feelings. You say that I’m standing on solid ground, but you’ve stolen every bit of it right out from underneath me. You have a hold on me that nobody ever has. These three weeks…I couldn’t stand it. All I can think about is you. I can’t stop worrying that if I let you slip through my fingers – even for a moment – you’ll decide you’re done with me, and there will be nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. And it’s terrifying. For the first time in a long time, I am terrified.”

MY SHEYLAAA 😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗💗💗

He massages the tightly wound muscles of my lower legs. “Which is admirable, though I’m not sure Pratt will think so. You need to prepare for the possibility that they may look at your application and see a student who’s coasted by on academic mediocrity despite testing into an elite boarding school.” His fingers dance over my Achilles tendon. “And even with an acceptance, you’ll still need to cover the cost of tuition, room and board, living in Manhattan…”

Listen, I am CONVINCED that he is a Capricorn or Scorpio, because only someone with heavy Saturn and/or Pluto placements talks like him, even in love.

My heart sputters. “You’re talking about Rory Huber. He’s the guy who did this amazing series on Hercules that exhibited in Athens. It went really viral in the art world and –” I suddenly stop talking, the last piece of a puzzle snapping together when I spot the satisfied smile that’s beginning to take shape on his mouth. “Wait. Wait a second. You’re going to Harvard.” I try backing off the couch, but his grip becomes iron. “And now you’re trying to sell me Harvard.”

Busted 😭💗

“I already have a plan,” I tell him. “And I can’t scrap it.” “Well, you don’t need to scrap it,” he counters. “Simply adjust.” An undignified huff escapes me. “What you’re proposing is not an adjustment. It’s a 180-degree turn.” “I’d call it ninety,” he says. “We both know you’d flourish as an artist anywhere. Pratt’s not the only art school with world-renowned teachers or classes.” It’s with great reluctance that I’m willing to admit he has a point.

When I tell you my boy is playing CHESS

He merely tilts his head to the side, his tone audibly softening. “Is that such a bad thing? To want to be close to my girlfriend?” He untangles one of his hands from mine and gently threads it through my hair. “We’ll get a cute little apartment off campus. We’ll meet up after classes and study in the library together. On the weekends, we’ll go into the city, have breakfast, and afterward, I’ll take you shopping for whatever your heart desires.” His thumb skims my cheekbone, and I don’t even need the description – I can already imagine it well enough in my own head. Put like that, it sounds so simple. And the fact that he even wants me to follow him, that he’s thought about a future beyond Lionswood’s iron gates, sparks more satisfaction than it probably should.

oh this man has a Capricorn Venus 💗