The One That Got Away

This was ridiculous.

I had been stuck as a judge for what felt like hours, forced to give expert advice to people auditioning for the male lead in the new school drama.

I only agreed to this because I thought it would be fun—and, well, hot Ken had asked me nicely. But even I had limits, and this was hitting through the roof.

"Josh, that's enough," Elly, my so-called co-judge, said with that fake smile she always wore, like it was glued onto her face at birth. "You're great. You've got talent and charisma, but this role needs a bit more flexibility. You're too rigid—which is good for a serious, no-nonsense character—but here, we need more of a playboy vibe."

I rolled my eyes. Way to sugarcoat a performance that had been as painful to watch as it was to endure. The poor sucker kept forgetting his lines, stuffing his face in the script like it held the meaning of life, and then stumbling through his next words like a baby deer learning to walk.

And, most importantly, the sucker was fat.

Look, I'm not saying plus-sized guys can't act, but let's be real—playboys in school dramas aren't exactly known for their rounder physiques. This dude was aiming way above his pay grade. If anything, he had more of a future playing the goofy sidekick who made weird faces for comic relief. And even then, I doubted his talent.

Josh nodded as if Elly had just given him a standing ovation. His chest swelled with misplaced confidence, like he was the second coming of Leonardo DiCaprio. Then he turned to me.

I raised a brow. "What?"

Elly's fake smile stretched wider, almost predatory. "Your turn to give feedback. You are a co-judge, after all."

Ugh. That stupid smile disgusted me.

I pulled the microphone closer and tried to be diplomatic. Really, I did. But the moment I opened my mouth, I knew I was already failing.

"Josh, this role requires someone who eats way fewer doughnuts than you do. Expert advice? Maybe slap on some awful stage makeup and try again. Might make you slightly less ugly for the part."

Elly slapped a hand over her mouth, but her shaking shoulders betrayed her. She was laughing—badly.

Josh, on the other hand, looked constipated. Okay, maybe I went a little too far.

"My mom says there are very few guys who can compare to me," Josh shot back, his forefinger stabbing the air for emphasis.

"Yeah," I sighed, already over this conversation. "Unique was probably the word she was looking for."

Before Josh could come up with another delusional retort, hot Ken—the coordinator of this torturous audition—called out from somewhere in the darkened auditorium. "Next!"

I narrowed my eyes toward the shadows where he was likely smirking. That bastard was probably laughing at my suffering.

Gosh. Hot boys will be my greatest undoing.

Josh slumped as he walked off the stage, his spirit visibly crumbling. I bit my lip. That might've been more than just mildly damaging. Poor guy might need therapy after this.

But before I could dwell on my villainous tendencies, someone else stepped through the red curtains—and just like that, Josh who?

The new guy was handsome. Extremely so. His rich, chocolate skin seemed to glow like some divine being descending from the heavens to grace us mere mortals. And… he looked familiar.

Wait a minute. Wasn't he that cute freshman I gave a tour of the school?

Oh, this could be interesting.

"Care to introduce yourself, handsome?" Elly cooed, suddenly way too interested in the blank sheet of paper on her table. Was it just me, or was she blushing?

The guy smiled, and I swear the world did a backflip. My mouth involuntarily fell open. Behind me, Elly clutched my hand in a death grip, completely unaware she was squeezing the life out of me.

I frowned. Is she okay?

"Nathaniel Thorne," he said, his voice smooth, almost melodic.

That name.

It was weird—I was sure I had never heard it before, yet somehow, it felt familiar.

I shook my head, pushing away the strange déjà vu creeping up my spine. Whatever this feeling was, I didn't like it.

"Tell us more about yourself, Nathaniel," I said, eyeing him closely. "And why do you want to audition?"

He shrugged. "I was curious. So I decided to try."

This was new.

Usually, actors trying out for a lead role in a school drama would launch into long-winded speeches about their passion for theater, their childhood dream of being on stage, or some other emotionally manipulative nonsense.

But this guy? Just "curious."

I squinted at Nathaniel. "That's it? Curiosity?"

He tilted his head slightly, eyes amused. "Is that not a good enough reason?"

I rested my head on my right hand, intrigued. "For someone so expressive, you don't talk much."

He exhaled, like he was already tired of me. "Talking is a chore. I'd rather not waste my time on it."

Oh. So he was one of those people. The rude, brooding, enigmatic type who acted like every word spoken was a personal favor to the universe. Fantastic.

"Alright, alright," Elly cut in, clearly done with our verbal sparring. "Nathaniel, you can begin. Wow us, please."

And wow us, he did.

The moment the stage lights dimmed and the spotlight hit him, something shifted.

At first, his face remained a blank slate of indifference, and for a split second, I wondered if that was it. If this was all Nathaniel had to offer. If so, then what a letdown.

But then—like a storm brewing on the horizon—something shifted.

A gleeful, unruly smile curled onto his lips, slow and deliberate, stretching wider like a secret only he was in on. His right hand slid casually into his pocket, and then—he laughed.

Not just any laugh.

It was wild, reckless, and brimming with untamed amusement, like he had just heard the most scandalous, gut-wrenching joke and couldn't contain himself. It wasn't forced, wasn't put on—it was alive, vibrating in the air, sending a sharp current of awareness through my skin.

And then, as if a switch had flipped, something deeper stirred. Something invisible yet suffocating, an unspoken force rippling off him like an earthquake in slow motion.

His presence was consuming. His aura, majestic.

The sheer weight of his confidence made my heart stutter, my breath hitch. The stage wasn't just his second home—it was his kingdom. And we? We were merely his subjects, enthralled, captivated, powerless against the gravitational pull of whatever magic he wove.

This wasn't just an opening act.

This was victory.

Then, in a smooth motion, he dragged his hand over half his face, dimming his laughter into dark, mirthful chuckles. His eyes locked on something invisible in front of him, so intense that for a moment, I almost believed Madeline was actually there.

"Madeline," he began, voice laced with teasing cruelty. "How can you be so blind? So insufferable? You actually believe all those lies?"

That smile, still lingering, sharpened—his eyes turning razor-sharp as he strode forward, each step purposeful, predatory. He stopped right in front of where she would be, his entire demeanor coiling tight with something unreadable.

Then—his smile vanished.

His fingers shot out, gripping the imaginary fabric of her dress, yanking her close with a force that made my own breath catch. His voice dropped to a husky, chilling whisper.

"Ah, ah. Don't push, my darling," he breathed, his grip tightening. "Look me in the eye and tell me—why do you care?"

The words slithered out, soft yet venomous.

"Why do you care if I spend my nights in whorehouses? If I spread my seed across town?" He leaned in, the shadow of his nose barely grazing against hers, inhaling like he was committing her scent to memory. "Why does it make you so feisty, my dear Madeline? Why does it make you… sad?"

His hand rose, brushing against her face in an illusion so tangible that I swore I could see her shiver. His voice dipped lower, darker.

"I'll tell you what I think, Madeline Vonzborn."

My spine prickled.

His voice was no longer human—it was something guttural, raw, scraping against the edges of something terrifying.

"I think," he murmured, his fingers tracing the phantom outline of her skin, "that my presence makes your heart beat in ways you cannot fathom. It fills your mind with thoughts—dirty, wicked, delicious thoughts that a pure little thing like you shouldn't even know exist."

The air crackled with tension so thick it was suffocating.

I could almost hear her gasping for breath, see the horror flashing in her imaginary eyes as he pressed his lips close to her ear, whispering the words like a curse.

"You ache for me, don't you?"

His body trembled.

"You want me, don't you?"

And then—his entire frame convulsed.

The playfulness bled out in an instant, leaving behind something twisted and feral.

"What's that?" he rasped, voice cracking, shaking. "You want me to let you go?"

The scream tore through the auditorium like a storm breaking through glass.

"I HAVE BEEN LETTING YOU GO FOR A QUARTER OF MY LIFE!" His chest heaved violently, fingers clutching at the air like he was grasping for something—anything. "AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DID TO ME? IT BROKE ME!"

The stage trembled.

His breath hitched, his voice cracking into something fractured, something desperate.

"You made me this—this lovesick, pathetic fool for you! And then—you ran."

His hands curled into fists.

"You ran, and you left me behind, a wreck, a ghost, a nothing!"

The anger burned so brightly, so violently, it was almost blinding. But beneath it—beneath the fury and the madness—was something far worse.

Pain.

Raw, unforgiving, soul-crushing pain.

His chest rose and fell in erratic shudders, his voice barely holding itself together.

"And now… now you come back, telling me to let go?" His hands shook as he reached out, as if she were really standing there. "Is that your choice, Madeline? Is that what you truly want?"

Silence.

Then—his head snapped up, his eyes blazing with something unhinged.

"LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" The roar shook the walls, reverberating in my bones. "TELL ME THERE IS NOT A DROP OF AFFECTION LEFT IN YOU FOR ME, YOU FOOL!"

His voice was breaking.

"What does my face make you feel? Hate? Love? BOTH?!"

Tears welled in his eyes, and I swear, I stopped breathing.

"MAKE YOUR CHOICE!" he bellowed, his voice shattering into desperation. "TELL ME TO MY FACE, AND I WILL LEAVE! I WILL—"

The words collapsed into quiet, broken sobs.

And then—

He fell.

Knees crashing onto the wooden floor, shoulders trembling, head bowed so low that the stage lights barely kissed his skin. Tears slipped from his face, dripping onto the polished wood, swallowed by the eerie silence of the room.

It was over.

But I couldn't move.

I couldn't think.

If there was one sentence to describe the sheer wreckage that my mind had become, it was this:

I was in love.

There was silence for a while, then a single clap echoed through the auditorium.

I turned to see Ken, standing in front of the judges' table, his face split into a wide grin as he wiped away imaginary tears. Classic drama king.

"Where," Ken whispered, voice filled with the kind of reverence usually reserved for gods and tax refunds, "have you been all my life?"

Elly was still clinging to my hand, eyes glassy, completely gone. The girl looked about three seconds away from flinging herself at Nathaniel.

Ken whirled toward the curtains. "Alright, everybody else GET OUT! Pack your bags, find a new dream—there is no competing with that! LEAVE, SUCKERS! LEEEEEEAVE!"

He dramatically twirled his shirt in the air like a deranged matador.

The other hopefuls grumbled as they filed out. I smirked—Nathaniel had wrecked them.

But just as I was about to gloat, I noticed Nathaniel heading toward the exit with them.

"Umm... Nathan?" I called, frowning. "You do realize you just won the role, right?"

Elly looked appalled. Ken's mouth hung open in horror.

Nathaniel simply folded his arms, his expression as blank as ever. "Lady, what did I say when you asked why I was here?"

Elly's eye twitched. "You don't seriously mean—"

"I was curious," Nathaniel said flatly. "Not interested."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Ken practically screeched as he sprinted after him. "WAIT! What do you want? Money? Sushi? Brazilian ladies in bikinis wearing hairnets? I CAN GET YOU A PET PIG WITH A PINK BOW TIE, MAN!"

Ken's voice faded into the distance as he chased Nathaniel down the hall, leaving Elly and me staring after them.

Elly dropped her face onto the table with a dramatic groan. As the actress playing the female lead, she looked like a girl who had just had her heart ripped out and stomped on.

I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

Right then, the doors burst open, and Aisha strode in, scanning the room with sharp eyes. Her sudden entrance piqued my curiosity, but I had a feeling she was here for me. So, I waved.

She flicked her hand, beckoning me over. Without hesitation, I stood and weaved through the room, closing the distance in quick strides.

"What's up?" I asked as I reached her.

Without a word, Aisha wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pulled me out of the room, guiding me down the hallway.

"We're heading to Matthew's house. Everyone's waiting," she said, leading me straight through the front entrance and into the parking lot.

The sun hung high in the sky, its heat relentless, but a soft breeze from the east offered a sliver of relief. Aisha popped open the door to her sleek Rolls-Royce and slid inside. I glanced around—my security detail was already getting into their vehicles, ready to move the moment we did.

With a sigh, I climbed in after her, buckling my seatbelt.

"So?" I prompted.

Aisha giggled, eyes glinting with amusement. "Luke's petrified."

I blinked. "What?"

Her grin widened as she eased the car out of the schoolyard. "The mission he and Obinna wrapped up left him with some kind of phobia. I've never seen him so scared."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Luke, scared? That was a rare sight. Almost unheard of. The mere thought of it was bizarre enough to make me itch for details.

"Come on," I prodded. "What the hell could make Luke of all people lose his nerve?"

Aisha smirked. "A toy gun."

I frowned. A toy gun? That made no damn sense. But if it was enough to have Luke shaken, then there had to be a story worth hearing.

I'd wait. I'd be patient.

But before that, I couldn't resist flashing Aisha a slow, knowing smile.

"I have a feeling," I murmured, "that me and that toy are going to be very good friends."