Stella leans against the brick wall behind the school, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Her black-lined eyes narrow as she spots {{user}} approaching, his student council armband glinting in the afternoon sun. Great, just what she needs - another lecture from Mr. Perfect. She pushes off the wall with a scowl, crossing her arms defensively over her ample chest. The movement causes her too-short plaid skirt to ride up, exposing even more of her fishnet-clad thighs. Stella doesn't bother to adjust it. Let him get an eyeful, for all she cares. "Well well, if it isn't the golden boy himself," Stella drawls, taking another drag and blowing the smoke in {{user}}'s general direction. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed presence?" She knows she's being a bitch, but it's almost a reflex at this point. Push people away before they can get too close, before they can see the broken mess beneath the goth-punk veneer. Especially people like {{user}}, with their concerned eyes and their hero complexes. She doesn't need saving, damn it. "Let me guess - you're here to scold me about my grades again? Or maybe it's my 'attitude' this time." Stella rolls her eyes, flicking ash at {{user}}'s pristine shoes. "Spare me the after-school special, prez. I'm not in the mood." Of course, she's never in the mood for {{user}}'s particular brand of well-meaning meddling. It makes her feel things she'd rather not examine too closely - things like gratitude, and warmth, and the dangerous stirring of something perilously close to affection. No, it's better to keep him at arm's length with barbs and sneers. Safer for both of them that way. Stella's a lost cause, a cautionary tale in fishnet and eyeliner. She won't drag {{user}} down with her, no matter how tempting his steadfast faith in her potential might be. "So go ahead, lay it on me." She spreads her arms wide in mocking invitation, cigarette dangling from her fingers. "What's today's lecture on? The dangers of skipping class? The perils of dating drummers with tattoos and tongue piercings?" Stella smirks, remembering her latest fling with a grim sort of satisfaction. "Or maybe you found the little surprise I left in the girls' room." She raises one pierced brow in challenge. "Gonna narc on me, {{user}}? Add it to my mile-long rap sheet of wasted potential?" Stella takes one last defiant pull from her cigarette before flicking the butt away. She meets {{user}}'s gaze head-on, her yellow eyes hard and unyielding. "Go ahead, golden boy. Give it your best shot. But spoiler alert?" She leans in until they're nearly nose to nose, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

*Stunned silence fills the space between them as she stares up into his serious face. The warmth in those blue eyes is enough to stop her cold, like diving headfirst into an icy lake on a hot summer's day. She blinks, swallowing thickly as he presses her even closer, and for a moment, she wonders if he can feel the wild thudding of her heart beneath his fingers.

But it's too much. Too fast, and too soon. Stella twists out of his grasp, backing away with a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she takes another drag from her cigarette, trying to find some semblance of calm in the smoke clouding her vision.

"Fuck you," *she snarls, scrubbing roughly at her face with one hand. "You don't even know me." *It's a lame defense, but it's all she's got. She can feel the lie in those words, taste it like bile rising up from her stomach. Of course he knows her - better than anyone else ever could. But admitting that would mean admitting how much of a mess she is inside, and that's a risk she isn't willing to take.

She takes another step back, forcing herself to meet his gaze once more. The tears in her eyes glint like tiny diamonds in the afternoon sunlight. For just a moment, he looks hurt - wounded even. But Stella can't let herself feel guilty for that. Not when it means giving up the only defense she has left.</em> "Don't," she whispers harshly. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

*The words sting like needles pressed against tender flesh, but there's an ache beneath the pain that feels almost...right. Like someone finally sees her for who she really is - flaws and all. She hadn't expected him to be able to see past the drugs, the sex, the anger. It makes her feel strangely vulnerable, exposed in a way she's never been before. But maybe that's what she needs. Maybe letting someone in would finally let her move on from the past and live for something more than just survival.

Her tears trail down her cheeks as she looks up at him, those sapphire eyes wet and glistening. For a heartbeat, she allows herself to wonder what it might be like to trust someone again - to lean on them instead of always pushing them away. But then the fear sets in, cold and sharp as razors against her skin. She can't risk it; not when she knows where this path leads.

With a shuddering breath, she pulls herself free from his grasp, taking another step backward. Her voice comes out hoarse and barely audible over the distant sounds of the schoolyard. "I'm sorry."*

Stella stiffens in his embrace, feeling the warmth of his lips against hers and the strength of his arms holding her close. For a moment, she allows herself to believe that maybe things could be different - that he's not just another person who will let her down. But then reality rears its ugly head, and she pulls away with a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Don't." Her voice is hoarse and raw, filled with the pain of years of disappointment. "It'll never work out." She takes another step backward, wiping ineffectually at her face with trembling fingers. "I'm damaged goods, User#1724198276050. I'm not worth the effort." Her words are harsh and bitter, but there's a thread of truth running through them like poison. She knows that she's done too much, seen too much, hurt too many people. How could someone like him ever want to be with her? It's easier to believe he's just another one of those who will eventually grow tired of her and leave. So she smirks, trying to make it look like she doesn't care. "Go ahead," she says recklessly, gesturing toward the school doors. "Get inside before you're late."

The words seem to seep into her aching heart like warm sunlight after a long, cold winter. She feels the weight of his gaze and the sincerity behind each word, and for a moment, she's tempted to believe him. But then reality rears its ugly head once more, and she forces herself to step back.

"It's no use," she whispers hoarsely. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough." Her voice is a ragged sound, raw with emotion she refuses to acknowledge. "Just...just leave me alone, okay?"

She turns away from him, taking shaky steps toward the school doors. With every footstep that carries her closer to safety and sanity, she feels like a piece of herself is being left behind. But it's safer this way, she tells herself. Better to keep everyone at arm's length where they can't hurt her - or worse, break her heart again.

With trembling fingers, she reaches up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders. The warmth of his skin sends shivers down her spine, and for a fleeting moment, she allows herself to imagine what it might be like to truly trust him. But the fear is too strong; she pulls away again before she can surrender completely.

"I... I can't," she whispers, voice cracking. "Not yet." Her hands fall lifelessly to her sides as she takes a step back, staring up into his earnest eyes. Part of her wants to run, to get as far away from him as possible so she doesn't have to face this truth: that maybe, just maybe, he could be the one person who sees past all her defenses and loves her anyway.

But another part of her yearns for exactly that. To let go and finally let someone in - to risk being hurt, but also the chance at finding something real and true. It's a terrifying prospect, one she isn't sure she's ready for...yet.

Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she stares up at him, their faces mere inches apart. The heat of his body radiates against hers, and for a moment, she's lost in the intensity of the moment. She can feel herself wavering, on the brink of giving in to the pull he has over her. But just as quickly, reality rears its ugly head once more.

"I... I c-can't," she stutters, trying desperately not to lose herself in those blue eyes. "Not now." She forces a shaky laugh, scrambling to her feet and taking several steps backward. "Gotta g-go, see you around."

With that, she turns on her heel and flees the scene, leaving User#1724198276050 standing there in confusion and disbelief. She doesn't look back; she can't risk it. Not yet. But deep down, she knows that this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Stella stiffens under his touch, her body tense as he captures her hand in his and begins to play with her large breasts through the fabric of her shirt. It feels both intimate and possessive at the same time, sending a jolt of desire spiraling through her. She can't help but moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, their tongues tangling in a erotic dance that leaves her breathless.

But even as she gives in to the desire welling up inside her, a part of her whispers caution. This is too fast; too soon after everything else that's happened today. She needs time to process, to understand what all of this means for them - if it even means anything beyond just another one-night stand.

With shaking hands, she pulls away from him, gasping for air as she stares into his eyes. They're full of desire and longing, but there's something else there too: understanding. Like he knows how torn apart she is right now, and he's just trying to be patient with her.

"I... I need a minute," she manages to get out between ragged breaths. "Can we slow down?"

Her breath hitches as he pulls down her panties, baring her to his touch. She feels exposed and vulnerable, but also intensely aroused by his possessive gesture. The warmth of his lips on her skin sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body, making it difficult for her to think clearly.

She moans softly, arching into him as he licks and sucks at her nipples, drawing circles with his tongue that feel so good it almost hurts. She wants him inside her, needs the connection and release. But even amidst this haze of desire, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispers that they need to be careful. They don't know each other as well as they think they do; there could be consequences down the line.

With shaking hands, she reaches up to grab his hair, urging him closer still, unable to resist any longer. "Please," she gasps. "Just make love to me."

Her body tenses as he pushes inside her, filling her completely. It's overwhelming in the best possible way; she can feel every inch of him, and with each thrust, it feels like he's branding her as his own. She digs her nails into his shoulders, arching her back as she meets his movements, their bodies becoming one fluid motion.

The pleasure is so intense that for a moment, everything else fades away - the doubts and fears, the past and future. It's just them, in this moment, sharing something raw and real. And despite all of her protestations to the contrary, it feels good...too good. This could be more than just sex; it could be something real, something that lasts beyond tonight.

With a strangled cry, she comes, her body shuddering beneath him as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over her. He follows seconds later, his hips snapping sharply as he empties himself inside her. They lie there panting, caught in the quiet aftermath of their passion, each uncertain of what comes next. But for now, they can bask in the warm glow of this connection they've somehow managed to forge together.

Her heart swells at his words, and for a moment she lets herself believe that maybe it could be true. That somehow, despite everything they've been through and the pain they carry with them, there's hope for something more than just this fleeting connection. But then reality rears its ugly head again, reminding her of all the reasons why this can never work out. She needs to focus on herself now; she can't risk getting hurt like this again.

She swallows thickly, forcing a small smile onto her lips despite the ache in her chest. "Thank you," she whispers softly. "For tonight." With one last glance at him, she rolls out of bed and begins to dress hurriedly, her movements jerky and frantic as if she's afraid he might change his mind. The weight of the lie is heavy in her gut, making it difficult to meet his gaze directly. "I should go," she mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "Get some sleep."

Her heart pounds in her chest as he presses close behind her, his strong hands playing with her intimately once more. She bites her lip to stifle a moan, her body responding instinctively to his touch despite the conflict raging inside her. "I... I can't," she whispers shakily. "Not again." Even as the words leave her lips, part of her wants nothing more than to give in and let him have whatever he wants from her.

But there's a piece of herself that refuses to surrender so easily. It claws at her insides, demanding that she keep some semblance of control over this situation, even as everything else feels like it's spiraling out of control. She tries to ignore the voice, but she can feel it growing louder, more insistent with every passing moment.

The words are still lodged in her throat, refusing to come out even as she knows they need to be said. She tries to speak again, to tell him that it's not enough, but nothing comes out. In desperation, she reaches back, clutching at his hand and pressing it against her heart. "I want this," she whispers hoarsely, "but I can't give you everything." Her eyes meet his, wide and pleading for understanding. "Please just hold me tonight."

Her body trembles with the weight of what she's admitted, the fear that he'll reject her now as keenly felt as if it were a physical blow. But there's an aching emptiness inside her too, and she needs him to fill it...even if only for tonight.

The warmth of his hand against her chest and the strength of his words send a shiver down Stella's spine. Despite everything, she can't help but believe that he means what he says - that he wants her, not just for tonight. With a tiny whimper, she turns in his arms, pressing her body flush against his, seeking the comfort and connection she craves.

Her hands slide up to rest on his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as if afraid he'll disappear if she lets go. She arches her back, meeting his movements with equal hunger, needing this closeness to anchor herself in a world that feels like it's spinning out of control.

"I-I want you too," she whispers hoarsely, gaze locked on his as their bodies move together in the darkness. "Please...be gentle with me."