TWO
WILLOW
The shrill ringing of my phone startles me awake. I fumble for it in the dark, my hands clasps it and then I glance down at it, squinting at the bright screen.
Unknown number .
My finger hovers over the decline button, but something makes me answer.
"Hello?" I say groggily.
"Willow Bennett?" a deep, gravelly voice responds. My breath catches. I don’t recognize that voice. Who is this guy and how did he get my number?
“Yes, this is she,” I manage to reply, suddenly wide awake. "Who is this?"
There's a pause on the other end. "You were at O'Malley's bar last night. I, uh, found your notebook. Thought you might want it back."
My heart races. Could this be the mysterious guy from the bar—the one with the intense eyes and leather jacket? The one who was on my mind until the moment I fell asleep.
"Oh! Yes, thank you," I stammer. "I've been looking everywhere for that."
"I can meet you somewhere to return it," he offers. "If you're free."
I glance at the clock. It’s almost seven in the morning. My first class isn't until ten. I could find some time to meet him. "Sure, that would be great. There's a coffee shop on campus called The Grind. Do you know it?"
"I'll find it," he says. "See you in thirty?"
"Okay," I agree, my pulse quickening. "And thank you... Um, I didn't catch your name?"
Another pause. "It's Rogue. See you soon, Willow."
The line goes dead. I sit there for a moment, phone still pressed to my ear, processing what just happened.
Rogue... The name suits him somehow—strong, a little mysterious.
I jump out of bed, suddenly energized. As I rifle through my closet, I try to calm myself down. It's just coffee to get my notebook back. Nothing more. But I can't ignore the butterflies in my stomach, or the way my hands shake slightly as I apply mascara.
I settled on a flowing, floral dress and a white cardigan—feminine but not trying too hard. As I head out the door, I catch sight of my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with anticipation.
Get it together, Willow , I chide myself. You barely know this guy .
The walk to The Grind helps calm my nerves. The crisp morning air and familiar sights of campus ground me. This is my world—books and classes and the promise of shaping young minds someday. What do I know about mysterious guys in leather jackets?
I spot him the moment I enter the coffee shop. He's impossible to miss—tall and broad-shouldered, radiating an aura of danger that seems at odds with the cozy cafe setting. Our eyes meet, and that same jolt of electricity I felt at the bar courses through me.
"Willow," he says as I approach, my name sounding different, thicker, and silkier in his deep voice.
I nod, my cheeks heating. “Yes. Thank you so much for meeting me, Rogue.”
"It's no problem," Rogue says, pulling out my notebook from inside his leather jacket. When he hands it to me, our fingers touch for a moment. The brief contact is enough to send a shiver through me.
"Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask. "To thank you for going out of your way."
“Sure,” he says with a shrug.
We order and find a small table in the corner. He didn’t let me buy him coffee. Instead, he paid, and when I tried to protest, his gaze sliced to me, so I stopped speaking.
Up close, I can see the fatigue etched on his face. He looks like he hasn't slept. There's a blooming bruise on his jaw that wasn't there last night.
"Rough night?" I ask, before I can stop myself.
His eyes narrow slightly. "Something like that. Work stuff."
I nod, not pushing further. We sip our coffees in silence for a moment. I'm hyper-aware of his presence across from me; the way his large frame dwarfs the cafe chair; the subtle scent of leather and something distinctly masculine.
"So," he says finally. "You're studying to be a teacher?"
I blink in surprise. "How did you know that?"
He gestures to the notebook. "Lesson plans. I, uh, took a look to see if there was contact info inside."
"Oh, right," I say, feeling a bit foolish. "Yes, I'm in my first year. I love working with kids."
As I start talking about my classes and my part-time job at the daycare, I see something in Rogue's expression soften. He asks thoughtful questions, seeming genuinely interested.
"You must be good with them," he says. "Kids, I mean. You've got a... gentleness about you."
I blush at the compliment. "I try. Every child deserves patience and kindness."
Something flashes in his eyes at that—pain, maybe? But it's gone so quickly, I question whether I imagined it.
"What about you?" I ask, eager to shift the focus. "What do you do?"
He hesitates. "I work in security, of sorts. For a local business."
I nod, sensing he doesn't want to elaborate. We chat a bit more about neutral topics like the unseasonably warm weather and the best pizza places in town. But all too soon, I realize I need to leave for class.
"I should get going," I say reluctantly. "Thank you again for returning my notebook. And for the coffee."
Rogue nods, standing as I do. "It was my pleasure, Willow."
As I turn to leave, he catches my wrist gently. "Listen, I'd like to see you again. If you want."
My heart races. Every logical part of my brain is screaming that this is a bad idea. But looking into those intense eyes, I find myself nodding.
"I'd like that," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I'll call you."
As I walk to class, my mind is spinning. What am I doing? I know nothing about this man except his name—if Rogue is even his real name. He's clearly involved in something dangerous. The smart thing would be to walk away now, forget I ever met him.
But I can't shake the feeling that there's more to Rogue than meets the eye. Beneath that tough exterior, I sensed gentleness, maybe even vulnerability. And the way he looked at me... No one's ever looked at me like that before.
I'm so lost in thought that I nearly collide with someone outside the lecture hall.
"Whoa there, sis! Where's your head at?"
I look up to see my twin, Ivy, grinning at me. As always, I'm struck by how we can look so identical and yet be so different. Where I'm in a modest dress, she's rocking ripped jeans and a crop top. Her makeup is bold, hair perfectly tousled in that effortless way that actually takes hours.
"Sorry, just... distracted," I mumble.
Ivy's eyes narrow. She's always been able to read me like a book. "Spill. What's got you all flustered?"
I hesitate. Ivy and I used to tell each other everything, but lately, it feels like we're drifting apart. She's been secretive, staying out all hours and dodging my questions. Not to mention she’s been bitchy as hell lately. Mom and Dad have always favored Ivy over me, often complaining that I’m boring and need to be more outgoing like my sister. Ivy and I have never let the way they treat us affect our friendship, but lately it feels different between us and I’m not sure why.
Looking at her now, concern etched on her face, I'm reminded of the closeness we once shared.
"I met someone," I admit. "Last night, at O'Malley's."
Ivy's eyebrows shoot up. "You went to O'Malley's? Damn, sis, I didn't think you had it in you."
I roll my eyes. "It wasn't like that. I was just returning a book to Maggie. But I met this guy..."
As I describe Rogue and our coffee meeting this morning, I watch Ivy's expression change. The playful teasing fades, replaced by something I can't quite read. Worry? Fear?
"Willow," she says, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "Be careful, okay? Guys like that... they're trouble."
"You don't even know him," I protest, shocked by the instant need to protect the man I hardly know.
Ivy sighs. "I know enough. Just... promise me you'll be smart about this?"
I nod, though I'm not sure what being smart about this would even mean. Ivy gives me a quick hug before dashing off, leaving me more confused than ever.
As I settle into my seat for class, I can't shake the feeling that there's something Ivy's not telling me. But before I can dwell on it further, my phone buzzes with a text message. My heart skips a beat when I see it's from Rogue.
Rogue: Dinner tonight? I know a great Italian place downtown.
I hesitate for just a moment before typing back.
Me: Sounds perfect. What time?
As I put my phone away and try to focus on the lecture, I can't help but feel giddy. I’m not like my sister. I don’t have guys fawning over me. Hell, I haven’t even had a proper date before. I’m still a virgin—something Ivy loves to tease me about. But something about Rogue feels different.
Part of me wants to heed Ivy's warning, to play it safe and stick to the carefully planned path I've laid out for myself. But a larger part, a part I didn't even know existed until I looked into Rogue's eyes, wants to take the leap; to see where this unexpected connection might lead.
As the professor drones on about early childhood development theories, my mind wanders to Rogue. To his strong hands and intense gaze. To the gentleness I glimpsed beneath his tough exterior.
I know I should be cautious. There's clearly more to Rogue than he's letting on. But for once in my life, I don't want to be the careful, responsible Willow everyone expects me to be.
For once, I want to be reckless. I want to be brave. I want to see where this goes, consequences be damned.
As class ends and I gather my things, my phone buzzes again. Another text from Rogue.
Rogue: I'll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.
A shiver of anticipation runs through me. I’m excited and I can’t wait to see what tonight brings.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I'm barely able to focus on my classes, my mind constantly drifting to thoughts of Rogue and our upcoming date. By the time I get back to my apartment, I'm a bundle of nervous energy.
I spend far too long agonizing over what to wear, finally settling on a simple black dress that hugs my curves in a way that makes me feel both elegant and daring. As I apply my makeup, I catch sight of my reflection. There's a sparkle in my eyes I haven't seen before, a flush to my cheeks that has nothing to do with blush.
At precisely seven, there's a knock at my door. I take a deep breath, smoothing down my dress one last time before opening it.
Rogue stands there, looking devastatingly handsome in dark jeans and a button-down shirt. His eyes widen slightly as he takes me in, and I feel a thrill of satisfaction at his reaction.
"You look beautiful," he says, his voice low and husky.
I blush, ducking my head. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
He offers me his arm, and I take it, feeling the solid strength of his muscles beneath my fingers. As we walk to his vehicle—a sleek black motorcycle—I can't help but notice the way heads turn to look at us. Or more accurately, at Rogue. He exudes an aura of danger and mystery that seems to draw people in, even as it warns them away.
“Um...” I pause as we stand in front of his motorcycle. “How do I climb on?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat.
He grins at me before helping me onto the motorcycle, instructing me to hold on tight and not to let go. My heart is hammering as I clutch my hands around him. I’ve never done anything like this in my entire life.
The ride to the restaurant is exhilarating. The feeling of the wind whipping past me as I cling tightly to Rogue's waist is intoxicating. By the time we arrive, I'm breathless and giddy.
The restaurant is small and intimate, with soft lighting and the rich aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. Rogue guides me to a secluded booth in the back, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, which sends electricity throughout my body and makes my blood burn with desire.
As we settle in and order our food, I find myself relaxing. Conversation flows easily between us, and I'm surprised by how comfortable I feel in his presence. He asks me about my classes, my dreams for the future, and listens to my answers with genuine interest.
"You really love teaching, don't you?" he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.
I nod enthusiastically. "I do. There's just something magical about helping a child discover the world, you know? Seeing their eyes light up when they finally understand something... it's the best feeling in the world."
Rogue's expression softens, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. "You're something else, Willow," he says quietly. "So pure, so... good."
There's a note of sadness in his voice which makes my heart ache. I reach across the table, placing my hand over his. "Everyone has goodness in them," I say softly. "Some just hide it better than others."
Rogue's eyes meet mine, intense and searching. For a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own intimate bubble.
The spell is broken by the arrival of our food. As we eat, the conversation turns to lighter topics. Rogue tells me about his love for motorcycles, his eyes lighting up as he describes the feeling of freedom on the open road. I share stories about the most mischievous students I’ve taught during my time as a student observing others teaching. My heart melts as his deep laugh rumbles through the restaurant.
As the evening wears on, I find myself more and more drawn to this enigmatic man. There's a depth to him that intrigues me, layers I long to peel back and explore. But there's also an edge of danger, a sense that he's holding something back.
"So," I say, taking a sip of wine for courage, "you mentioned you work in security. What's that like?"
A shadow passes over Rogue's face so quickly I almost miss it. "It's... complicated," he says after a pause. "Not always pretty, but somebody's got to do it."
I nod, sensing his reluctance to elaborate. "Do you enjoy it?"
He shrugs, his expression guarded. "It's what I'm good at. Been doing it a long time."
I can tell there's more to the story, but I don't push. Instead, I change the subject, asking about his favorite books. To my surprise and delight, Rogue reveals a love for classic literature that matches my own.
As we debate the merits of Hemingway versus Fitzgerald, I find myself falling deeper under his spell. The way his eyes light up when he's passionate about something, the little half-smile that plays at his lips when he's amused... it's all incredibly alluring.
By the time dessert arrives—an amazing tiramisu that we decided to share—I'm hyper-aware of every move Rogue makes. The brush of his fingers against mine as we both reach for the spoon sends sparks through my body. The way his eyes linger on my lips as I lick a bit of cream from them makes my heart race.
As we leave the restaurant, the night air cool against my flushed skin, I feel a sense of anticipation building. Rogue's hand finds the small of my back again as he guides me to his motorcycle, and I lean into his touch.
"I don't want this night to end," I admit softly as we reach the bike.
Rogue turns to me, his eyes dark with an emotion I can't quite name. "It doesn't have to," he says, his voice low and husky.
My breath catches in my throat. I hesitate for a moment, my heart racing. Everything about this situation screams danger—I barely know this man, he's clearly involved in something risky, and I've never done anything like this before. But looking into Rogue's eyes, feeling the electricity between us, I find myself nodding.
"Okay," I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness.
A slow smile spreads across Rogue's face. He cups my cheek gently, his thumb brushing my lower lip. The tenderness of the gesture contrasts sharply with the raw desire I see in his eyes.
"You sure about this, Little Flower?" he asks, his voice rough. "Because once we start, I don't think I'll be able to stop."
A shiver runs through me at his words. "I'm sure," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Rogue's eyes darken further. In one swift motion, he pulls me against him, claiming my lips in a searing kiss. I gasp at the intensity of it, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing mine.
I melt into him, my arms winding around his neck as I return the kiss with equal fervor. All my doubts and hesitations fade away, replaced by a burning need I've never experienced before.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing heavily. Rogue rests his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my waist tightly.
"My place," he growls. "Now."
I nod, unable to form words. The ride to Rogue's apartment is a blur of anticipation and nervous excitement. I cling to him tightly, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine.
As soon as we're inside his apartment, Rogue has me pressed against the door, his lips on mine once again. His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I whimper into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensations.
"Rogue," I gasp as he trails kisses down my neck. "I... I've never..."
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You're a virgin?" he asks, his voice a mixture of surprise and something else... reverence, maybe?
I nod, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Is that... is that okay?"
Rogue's expression softens. He cups my face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "It's more than okay, Little Flower."
His words soothe my nerves, and I lean into his touch. "I want this," I whisper. "I want you."
A low growl rumbles in Rogue's chest. He scoops me up in his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. As he lays me gently on the bed, I'm struck by the contrast of his strength and his tenderness.
"We'll take it slow," he says thickly.
I nod, taking a deep breath. I never intended for this to happen tonight, but I’m so glad it has. I want this. I want him. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.