Unspoken Love Struggles

Chapter 27

Tamara's POV

A sharp, pounding pain surged through my head as if someone had struck it with a hammer. "Ugh," I groaned, barely able to muster the energy to open my eyes. Something shifted beside me, rustling the sheets. My heart skipped. Slowly, I turned my head, squinting through the blur of half-closed eyes.

Someone was lying next to me.

No. This must be a dream. I shut my eyes tightly, willing the figure to vanish. But when I opened them again, it was still there. Real, solid, and undeniably present. Panic clawed at my chest. I scanned the room, desperate to anchor myself, but the space felt both familiar and foreign, a warped déjà vu.

Where was I?

My attention darted back to the person beside me. His face was turned away, the rise and fall of their chest steady and calm. I moved slightly, a small effort to sit up, but my body was heavy, and my head felt even heavier. Another sharp wave of pain rippled through me, and I winced.

The figure stirred.

And then, as he turned, my breath caught in my throat.

"Justin?"

It was Justin. His messy hair fell across his forehead, his chest bare, the faint outline of a hickey visible near his collarbone. My mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the night before, but they were scattered, disjointed.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "How are you feeling?"

I froze, my body rigid under the sheets. He smiled lazily, the kind of smile that seemed to carry a weight of unspoken history, a smile that knew too much.

I couldn't answer. My throat was dry, and a lump formed where my words should have been. Slowly, almost fearfully, I peeked under the sheets. My heart sank. I was naked.

What have I done?

Justin shifted closer, his arm curling around my waist as he snuggled against me. "Let's sleep a little longer," he mumbled, his breath warm against my skin. "I like waking up like this... with you beside me."

My heart thudded in my chest, a chaotic rhythm of guilt and confusion.

How did I end up here?

I squeezed my eyes shut, fragments of the night flashing in bursts: tequila shots. Laughter. His voice, coaxing me into something reckless. The deal. The deal I had foolishly made with him.

It all came rushing back.

Justin had proposed it on the worst night of my life. When Joe, the one person I had yearned for, had crushed my heart with a cold, emotionless confession. "I don't feel that way about you." Those words had torn through me, leaving me hollow.

And Justin, ever the opportunist, had stepped in.

"Spend the night with me," he'd said, his tone both daring and suggestive. "If your plan to break them up works, give me one night. That's all I ask."

I had agreed. Desperate, broken, and blinded by my obsession with Joe, I'd agreed.

Now, lying in Justin's bed, I felt the weight of my choices pressing down on me. My head screamed in protest, my heart a chaotic mess of guilt, regret, and... something else I couldn't quite name.

What would Joe think if he knew?

But did it even matter? Joe didn't care. If he had, it wouldn't be Justin holding me now.

Justin stirred again, propping himself up on an elbow to look at me. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You okay?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

I nodded faintly, unable to meet his gaze.

But I wasn't okay. The memories of last night were like shards of glass, cutting into me with every thought. Joe's face lingered in my mind, the way his lips had felt when I kissed him. Warm. Salty. Real. It wasn't just a kiss. It had been a plea, a desperate attempt to make him see me, to feel something for me.

Justin interrupted my spiraling thoughts. "I'll get you some aspirin," he said before heading to the bathroom. I couldn't help but notice his bare back as he disappeared inside. A few moments later, he emerged with the aspirin and a glass of water, now dressed in just his boxers. "Thank God," I muttered under my breath.

I stared after him, my emotions a tangled mess. Why was he being so... kind? This wasn't the Justin I knew. The flirt, the player, the one who had always been so infuriatingly smug.

He handed me the pills and a glass of water, watching as I obediently swallowed them. "Rest for a while," he said, his tone gentle. "I'll be in shower ", saying that he vanished.

I nodded, sinking back into the pillows. My body felt drained, but my mind wouldn't rest. The guilt gnawed at me, whispering harsh truths I didn't want to hear.

What have I become?

I leaned back against the headboard, my head still pounding and my body weighed down with exhaustion. My eyes roamed around the room once more. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt unsettling. The interior was unmistakably masculine. White walls, blue curtains, blue sheets. A guitar rested in the corner next to a large TV mounted on the wall. As I continued to take in the surroundings, a knock at the door startled me.

My heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? I glanced around, trying to find my phone to check the time, but it was nowhere in sight. The knock came again, louder this time. I pulled the sheets up to my neck, suddenly hyperaware that I was completely naked underneath. Could it be Joe? Maybe he was looking for me. Before I could let my imagination spiral, the knock came a third time.

Before I could say or do anything, Justin stepped out of the bathroom, steam following him as he walked toward the door. His hair was damp, his body still glistening with water, and a towel hung low around his waist. I wanted to tell him not to open the door, but my voice caught in my throat. I froze, helplessly watching him turn the handle.

Dorota entered, pushing a food trolley with a warm smile on her face. "Good evening, Miss Tamara," she greeted me, pouring a steaming cup of coffee and handing it over. Her eyes briefly scanned me, and all I could do was offer a weak smile in return.

"I'll take it from here, Dorota. Thanks," Justin said firmly.

Dorota gave me one last glance before leaving the room. Justin wheeled the trolley toward the small lounge area in the corner, which held two cozy sofas and a coffee table. Once he had set the trolley down, he turned back toward me, his movements deliberate and confident. The fresh, clean scent of his body wash filled the air as he opened the closet and pulled out a robe.

"Here," he said, handing it to me. "After you finish your coffee, take a shower. You need to eat something. It's already two in the afternoon, and you haven't eaten since yesterday's lunch."

I stared at him for a moment, taking in the concern laced with authority in his voice. He stood there, towel around his waist, his broad shoulders and toned body impossible to ignore. He looked so handsome, so caring. This is what I wanted. A loving and protective boyfriend.

But not Justin. I wanted Joe.

He returned to his walk-in closet while I quickly jumped out of bed, wrapped myself in a robe, and headed to the bathroom. Feeling weak and drained, I took a quick shower, unable to stand for long. When I emerged, he was already dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

"Come, let's eat," he urged again. I made my way over to him and settled beside him. He handed me a plate, the aroma of freshly grilled salmon and avocado salad making my stomach rumble.

We ate in comfortable silence. Once I finished my meal, he handed me a bowl of fruit salad.

"I'm full," I protested softly.

"You need to eat this to stay hydrated," he insisted, his tone gentle yet firm.

When we finished, Justin leaned back, studying me. "You okay now?"

I nodded again, avoiding his gaze.

"Good," he said softly. "I'll drive you home. You need rest."

His words were kind, but they stung. There was something in his tone, a subtle warmth that I wasn't prepared for.

As he handed me his oversized t-shirt and shorts, I couldn't help but wonder: Was this guilt I was feeling... or something else?

And why did Justin's kindness feel both comforting and terrifying?

I slipped into his oversized t-shirt and shorts and walked downstairs. Dorota handed me my phone.

"I'll send your clothes once they're cleaned," she said.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Let's go," Justin said, his voice calm.

I followed him to the car park. The ride to my place was quiet, neither of us speaking. I kept waiting for Justin to bring up the beach or the night we shared, but nothing. When we pulled up to my place, he waited for me to get out.

"Thanks," was all I could muster. He nodded and I stepped out. He gave me a concerned look before driving off. There was something on his mind, I could tell, but he kept it to himself.

By the time he drove off, my emotions were a storm. I watched him drive away, his face unreadable. As I turned toward my house, my eyes fell on Joe's place across the street.

A pang of guilt hit me hard, and for the first time, I questioned everything.

Was it worth it?

And why couldn't I get Justin out of my mind?

Justin's POV

As I drove off, I saw Tamara fading in the rearview mirror. There was so much I wanted to say. Sso much I wanted to ask. But seeing her like this broke me into pieces. She wasn't the Tamara I had known. Not the vibrant, carefree girl who once lit up my life. I still remember the day I met her. She came along with Joe to watch our soccer match. The way she hugged me out of pure excitement when I scored the winning goal. That was the moment she stole my heart.

I had waited years to tell her how I felt, but back then, I was just a kid. Sixteen and hopelessly in love with my best friends friend. Every time I tried to muster the courage, I told myself it wasn't the right moment. "She doesn't see you that way," I'd think. Or, "Don't ruin the friendship." So I stayed silent, content to admire her from the sidelines.

But then came the day I found out she was in love with Joe. My heart shattered. How could I compete with my best friend? Joe had always been there for me, the guy I trusted most. I couldn't betray him. Not for her, not for anyone. Still, it didn't stop the ache every time I saw them together.

When Joe started dating Erin, I felt hope again. I thought, Maybe this is my chance. Maybe this is fate giving me a second shot. But my timing was never right. She found someone else, and I was left in the dark again.

I lost count of how many girls I dated trying to forget her. Some had her hair, her laugh, her eyes but none of them were her. And when I finally gave up, I dated aimlessly, using distractions to bury my feelings. Deep down, I knew the truth: Tamara was the only one who ever truly mattered.

It wasn't until last night, on the beach under the moonlight, that I finally felt complete. She kissed me, and for the first time, I believed she might feel something too. Her lips were soft, and even though she was drunk, I held onto the moment like it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, but the words caught in my throat.

She doesn't need to hear it now, I told myself. Give her time. She'll come to you.

When she asked me to help her break Joe and Tina apart, I agreed without hesitation. Maybe it was selfish, but I saw it as my chance. If I can show her what love truly is, she'll forget Joe. She'll see me.

Last night, for the first time, she was mine. She was in my arms, in my bed, in my world. I'd dreamed of that moment for years, and now it was real. But as I glanced at the empty seat beside me in the car, a pang of longing hit me. I wanted to ask her to stay longer, to give us a chance to figure this out together. But desperation wasn't the answer. Patience. You have to be patient.

I parked the car and walked into the house. Dorota was waiting, her knowing eyes searching my face. She had been like a mother to me, always offering comfort when I needed it most.

"How was she? Did you tell her how you feel?" Dorota's voice was gentle, but her questions hit me like waves.

"Not yet," I murmured, running a hand through my hair. "I want to take things slow. I don't want to scare her away."

Dorota let out a long sigh, her expression softening. "You're right," she said, taking my hands in hers. "But are you happy?"

I paused, the memories of last night flooding back. Her laughter, the warmth of her body against mine, the way she looked at me, even if just for a moment. Am I happy?

"I think so," I muttered, though the uncertainty lingered in my chest.

"Everything will be okay," Dorota assured me, squeezing my hands. "Go rest. Tomorrow's a big day. Don't forget your interview."

The interview. I'd almost forgotten. I'd applied to an IT firm, determined to carve out a future for myself. One that wasn't tied to my father's business. I wanted to be someone Tamara could look up to, someone who could give her the world if she asked for it.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifted back to her. One day, I'll tell her everything. One day, she'll see how much I love her. Until then... I'll wait.

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"Silence is not hesitation; it's wisdom waiting for the right moment to speak."