Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

He always had that way about him-so in control, it made people want to tear their hair out. No wonder he wasn't the most popular guy around.

While things were heating up back there, Clara had already made her way a good thousand meters along the path. The higher she climbed, the stronger the scent of cherry blossoms filled the air. As the snow fell heavier that night, she kicked herself for not bringing an umbrella. After another five hundred meters, she finally came across a flat patch of land.

The cherry blossoms here were even more stunning than the ones she'd spotted near the ruins. She hurried over, planning to snag a few branches and head out, intending to swap them for an old painting first thing in the morning.

Just as she reached for a branch, the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow caught her attention. The streetlights seemed to dim, and when she saw that familiar face, she was taken aback.

"Z?"

He approached, snapping off a few branches taller than she was and laid them down in front of her. Clara blinked through the snowflakes clinging to her lashes, trying to clear her vision.

"What are you doing here?"

"I followed you. You walked right past my place but didn't stop by. Who's the lucky one getting these flowers?"

Great. Just what she needed. A chill ran down her spine. His jealousy was flaring up, and she knew she'd have to work hard to smooth things over. Why did he have to show up now?

"I'm picking them for myself. You like them too, right? Let's pick some together."

She tried to play it cool, quickly taking the branches he offered, then pointed to a higher spot. "Mind giving me a hand with those?"

Z brushed a hand over her head, a playful grin on his face. "Liar."

Still, he reached up and snapped off a bunch more. "Is this enough?"

Clara, worried about ticking off the owner of the estate, nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah. More than enough. Let's head back."noveldrama

With a bundle of branches in her arms, she started back down the path, reaching out for his hand. But after just a few steps, he slipped.

Alarmed, Clara dropped to his side. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

He stayed silent, making her even more anxious. She fumbled for her phone to turn on the flashlight, but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

His hand was warm as he held her face and kissed her. Afraid the branches might scratch him, she let them fall away.

The kiss lingered for several minutes. She finally turned her head, her voice thick with concern. "Why does it taste like blood? Are you hurt?"

He didn't answer, just kept trying to kiss her. Frustrated, Clara pushed him away and felt something wet on her palm. She checked his hand and found it smeared with blood.

He'd picked flowers with an injured hand!

Anger surged through her, making her chest tremble. She stood, grabbed a few scattered branches, and started back down the path.

After a few steps, his voice called out to her.

"Go on. I'll be fine here. It's not cold at all."

She paused, clutching the branches tightly in frustration. At that moment, she felt completely stuck.

After a few agonizing seconds, she spun around, stormed back to him, and slapped him hard.

His head turned slightly, but he stayed silent.

As the impact settled in, Clara's heart felt heavy and muddled. While she wrestled with her emotions, he lowered his eyes and spoke softly, "Don't be mad. I broke a glass earlier over something stupid."

He slowly gathered the scattered cherry blossom branches, cradling them. "Really, it's nothing."

Clara realized he had a way of making her feel guilty and uncertain like no one else ever had.