author's note: this was first published/posted on the august 2017 wattpad block party.

~

Jean Fredericks was the embodiment of a temptress.

With soft, creamy skin, lustrous, wavy hair that was the color of the night sky, mesmerizing green eyes, and a sinful mouth that did wonders to a guy's manhood, no guy ever thought of refusing her enticing offer to spend the night at her place whenever she asked them to.

They always answered yes. Saying no to her was the worst kind of blasphemy that would ever escape a man's lips.

The need to be in control of her emotions was her primary objective whenever she made an arrangement with a guy. She even had a mantra to stay focused and not get distracted along the way—keep the lust burning, but never get too attached.

It wasn't a hard thing to keep up with, really. Almost everyone she'd hooked up with since high school was pretty chill with their set-up. There had been a few instances wherein she let herself bask in the intimate atmosphere of cuddling after doing the deed—to this day, the mere thought of being committed to someone and wanting more scared her shitless.

She didn't mean for the cuddling session to be a lengthy one; but at that moment, though, her own mind betrayed her and told her to stay put for a few more minutes. And as much as she pushed that memory into the deepest part of her mind, it never failed to haunt her, to remind her of her stupid mistake.

Relaxing in bed and being cuddled by a guy she kinda had feelings for felt... good. She was never going to say it out loud, but she'd be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy it. That intimate moment of temporary bliss she had shared with someone she only called whenever her hormones demanded to be satiated was one of the most exciting yet terrifying highlights of her life.

She could still remember the way his arms had encircled her waist as he pulled her closer against his chest, the way his breath tickled the sensitive spot of her jaw when he pleaded for her to stay a little longer. Refusing numerous guys' requests to stay for breakfast or to let them drive her back to her apartment wasn't new to her, but hearing the quiet desperation resonating in his voice made her change her mind for the first time.

And for some reason, her mind and body craved to have a taste of intimacy, even just for a little while.

So she'd stayed with him.

If only she had listened to the nagging voice inside her head, screaming at her to get the hell out of the guy's apartment and didn't give in to her own selfish whims so easily, then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be having such a hard time trying to erase all sorts of conflicting emotions whenever she faced Allen and talked to him.

The moment he collapsed on top of her, buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaled deeply, then looked up at her through his lashes and muttered, "You're even more beautiful when we're this close." after twenty heated minutes of exchanging bodily fluids, she felt every fragment of her jaded walls crumbling down at her feet, slowly turning into a messy pile of ashes scattered on the ground.

It was the best less-than-ten-words compliment anyone had ever told her.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her quiet breathing became erratic. And worst of all, tears slowly pricked at her eyes, betraying her usually calm façade. Alarmed, she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep her tears at bay. She wasn't going to let him see her cry, just because he said she was beautiful.

Jean was already used to hearing compliments about her beauty and her skills in bed. But why did his words strike some kind of weird emotion in her? The unusual feeling that lingered in her chest was stronger that before, it was more unsettling.

The aftermath of her jaded walls were nothing but fragments and ashes swirling all around her, mocking her of being unable to contain her true emotions.

When Allen furrowed his eyebrows, propped himself on his elbows, and tilted his head to get a good look at her, she instantly looked away. Stop being so emotional, she scolded herself, repeatedly slapping her cheeks in her head.

"Is there something wrong, Jean?" Allen asked her, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Even before they mutually agreed to satisfy each other's primal desires, he was already a naturally sweet guy. Of course, she knew numerous guys who had been nice and sweet just because they wanted to get inside her pants, but with Allen, he stayed genuinely concerned about her even after doing the deed.

She wasn't used to having someone look out for her; ever since she was a kid, she'd been working hard to take good care of herself because her own mother was too busy fighting for her husband's affection, too busy trying to please him just so he would stop accusing her of cheating on him, when, in reality, it was the other way around.

Seeing a text message from Allen that said 'did you have lunch yet?' or 'i can make you chicken noodle soup if you don't feel well' never failed to make her heart flutter and her chest tighten in anticipation. It was endearing, honestly.

But she still wasn't ready for that yet.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jean replied in a clipped tone, pursing her lips as she propped herself on her elbows as well, patted him lightly on the chest, and told him, "Thanks for letting me come over, Allen."

She didn't trust herself enough to stay at his place for a longer period of time; there was a pretty good possibility that she would fumble with her words more often than usual the moment another effortless compliment slipped out of his tempting lips.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his husky voice laced with genuine concern. For a split second, she wanted to look at him again, to see the longing in his brown eyes.

But before she could think of turning her head to face him, an image of her mother crying helplessly, screaming, "Don't leave me!" as desperately as she could, clinging to her husband's arm as he yanked her off of him, shaking his head, shouting, "It's all your fault!" while Jean stayed in her room, the door slightly open, her small hands covering her ears as she sat on the floor and rocked herself back and forth, back and forth.

Never, Jean swore to herself, closing her eyes for a moment to rid her mind of those haunted memories. I'm never going to be my mom. The desire to see his beautiful eyes long gone and forgotten. All she needed to accomplish now was to get out of his apartment, that's it.

Without another word, Jean finally got out of his bed and picked up her clothes that were scattered on his bedroom floor, shoving her legs inside her tattered black jeans and dragging her faded blue shirt against her torso. Grabbing her handbag from his nightstand, she rummaged through her beauty pouch and pulled out her honeysuckle-flavored lip gloss, hastily applying it on her lips.

"Jean—"

"I have to go, Allen," she cut him off and shook her head as she dropped the lip gloss into her bag, picking up her sneakers and slipping them on before she waved him goodbye and sprinted towards the front door.

Once she was out of his apartment, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall, relieved of the fact that she managed to keep her pathetic tears all to herself; if he saw her fall apart just because of a measly compliment, what would he think of her? Just another pretty, stupid girl who easily fell for sweet nothings that guys usually said.

That wasn't her. She wasn't weak and gullible like her mother. She refused to be.

Jean pinched the bridge of her nose and threaded her fingers through her hair, annoyed at herself for being too vulnerable in front of Allen—since when did she start losing her cool over a compliment that was already obvious?

She was better than that.

~

It had been nine days since that incident happened. Nine undeniably stressful days, to be exact.

As per their mutual aggrement to be each other's stress relievers, Jean had a few ground rules she clarified to him after they agreed to this kind of set-up. It was a necessary protocol; getting involved with the type of relationship they had often encountered problems, so she came up with The Rules.

One, they were only allowed to be intimate with each other during their time together in bed, never in public. Two, neither of them was allowed to be unnecessarily jealous whenever other people flirted with them. And lastly, if either of them wanted to stop seeing each other for good, they would tell each other honestly as soon as possible, and there would be no hard feelings afterwards.

For as long as she could remember, these rules worked smoothly—up until she met Allen Johnson.

Sure, her first impression of him was that of a typical guy who only wanted to have his head tucked in between her legs, but as months passed and she got to know him more, her entire opinion of him changed-he wasn't just another one of the guys she usually slept with, he was different.

Aside from the insatiable lust he had in him, Allen had a kind—but also fragile—heart.

Both of them knew that it was her who had the upper hand in their set-up; it was the undeniable truth. His fragile heart was already in the palm of her hand, and in the back of her mind, she was well aware of the fact that she could easily tear his heart into a thousand pieces.

She had him completely wrapped around her finger—he was incontestably spellbound.

It was more than enough to cripple her, to terrify her of the impending future. Truth be told, she was enjoying every part of whatever limbo they had subjected each other into-what would happen if she got regrettably used to everything they were doing, and then something terrible happened?

Would she drop everything and run away, just like what she always did whenever her parents screamed at each other at night? Would she stay and try to talk things out? And most importantly, what would Allen do? Would he call it quits and disappear from her life forever, or would he help her calm and reassure her from time to time?

Was he really worth all the stress and anxiety she was feeling right now?

These questions violently plagued her mind as she clutched the duvet against her naked body, her bare feet leading her to his kitchen a few nights later.

They had consumed beer and caramel popcorn while watching The Walking Dead—she'd been so sad and frustrated with Glenn's unexpected death—before they made out on his couch as the end credits rolled in, and after a minutes, they ended up in his bed, stripping down to their last piece of clothing.

Breathe, she told herself over and over as she felt her fingers dig into her bare skin through the duvet, still not believing the three words that slipped out of his mouth moments ago.

Those three words that she had heard her father say to her mother so many times, even after all the endless fighting and screaming. Those three words that her father had used against his wife, just so she would welcome him back with open arms despite her knowing of his infidelity. Those three words that had become the stigma of her affliction towards happily ever afters.

Gritting her teeth, she pondered her next move. Now that there wasn't an elephant in the room anymore, she considered the two options she had left-fight or flight. Her mind instantly told her to choose the latter—that's what she'd been doing for the past few years, after all. Attracting an impressive amount of men who wanted to be with her, but never in the long run.

She had grown accustomed to her usual touch-and-go relationships; exclusively going out with someone she truly cared about was at the very bottom of her list, honestly.

But damn it, every time she closed her eyes and thought of a way to escape, the unsettling image of a petrified-looking Allen lingered behind her eyelids, desperately pleading for her to go back and tell him the internal conflict that was going on in her head.

Still not knowing what to do next, Jean slowly opened her eyes and wiped her tear-stained face. What should she do next?

Her thoughts immediately flew out the window when she heard him call out her name in a soft, careful voice as he stood a few feet away from her, the tension emanating from them evident. She didn't have any kind of strategy to escape—she was a deer in the headlights.

At the last minute, she decided to get out of his apartment—this time, she wasn't going to have second thoughts; she was going to leave him for good. But when she looked back at him one more time, she became conflicted all over again. Was leaving him for good really the right decision?

She could see how sad and conflicted his eyes were, how desperate he was to reach out to her and tell her it was going to be okay, no matter what happened next. Although she had told him of her rules about their set-up beforehand, he was keen on always making sure she felt secure, despite her initial protests the first few times he'd done it.

Even now, she could see how bad he wanted to comfort her—but what good would it do if she were to give in to her selfishness? No matter how hard she tried to keep everything under wraps, he never failed to crawl his way into her consciousness, slowly unraveling every fiber of her repressed emotions and resurrecting her old, more vulnerable self.

Could she really handle the endless tribulations if she were to accept whatever he had to offer?

She didn't know if she could do it; she absolutely had zero faith in her abilities to withstand the kind of intensely terrifying pain an actual relationship had in store.

Tears quickly pricked at her eyes again as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck, whispering desperate, broken apologies against his soft skin.

Jean Fredericks never cried in front of guys she slept with and considered her temporary bliss.

That night, she did the exact opposite.