Chapter 4: Scripted Roles and Real Pain

Wendy’s sudden boldness threw me.

She looked at me with something wild in her eyes, electric and hungry. For a second, I wondered if I was dreaming.

My scalp tingled. I ruffled her hair, coaxing her to let go, and only then did she lick her lips and let me carry her to the bed.

I was way more nervous than I let on. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped her. She giggled, breathless.

My whole body was burning up, desperate for a cold shower.

The room felt too small, sheets too rough, lamplight too bright. I was back to being a teenager, fumbling in the backseat with my first crush.

Wendy was eager, but then she pleaded, red-eyed: "Alex, I’m scared."

Her voice barely a whisper. I paused, trying to read her—should I stop?

"Babe, relax." I kept my hands moving, gently, hoping to calm her.

But no matter how much I kissed or touched her, she stayed tense, dry, and finally started crying from the pain.

The sound of her crying sliced through everything. I stopped, holding her close, whispering apologies I couldn’t quite say.

I looked at Wendy’s twisted face, feeling not just pity, but guilt, confusion, and something like responsibility.

"Babe, maybe we should try another day..."

She tensed in my arms. I hated myself for suggesting it, but I couldn’t stand seeing her hurt.

Her eyes were red as she hugged me. "Isn’t it normal for the first time to be like this? Just go ahead, I’m not afraid."

She squeezed my waist, her face set. I could tell she was trying to be brave for me, not herself.

She kissed me hard, throwing my thoughts into chaos.

It was desperate, almost wild—her hands tangled in my hair, lips trembling. I kissed back, but the taste of salt made it impossible to forget how wrong it all felt.

I tried again, and suddenly the online comments flashed through my mind.

[LMAO, the main girl’s about to question her whole life.]

[The backup’s so pitiful—seduced her forever but still can’t get anywhere.]

[That’s her real guy’s privilege, everyone knows it. The backup should just stay on the bench.]

[Girl, trust yourself, you’re a unicorn—if the dude she’s actually into touches her, she’ll be fine.]

(*Unicorn: internet slang for a rare, desirable woman.)

Their words echoed, like some faceless crowd was narrating my failure.

That’s when it hit me—this was some Riverdale-level drama, and I was just the guy who gets dumped before prom.

Wendy’s the proud daughter, the female lead. Sean Nash is the son of her family’s housekeeper, the tough but insecure guy she’s actually into.

He always loved her from the shadows, never daring to confess—until they accidentally slept together, and after all the drama, they finally end up together.

Me? I’m just the guy who makes their feelings stronger.

It was like I’d been cast as the villain in someone else’s fairytale. Every move I made just pushed them closer.

Her body and heart would always belong to the guy she really wanted. I was just a smudge, meant to be erased.

I could almost hear the laugh track, the applause when I finally bowed out.

It sounded ridiculous, but Wendy’s behavior now—her body locked up, her heart somewhere else—proved it.

She was programmed for him, her heart and body hidden behind some invisible plot armor.

Watching her, flustered and regretful, wanting to try again, I just pretended to be asleep.

I listened to her shaky breathing, her quiet sniffling. When she finally slipped out of bed, I stayed still, clinging to the silence.

Let whoever wants to be a tool be a tool. If she doesn’t belong to me, I don’t want her either.

I repeated it to myself like a prayer. But her absence left the room cold.