Babe please choose me

The courtyard of St. Jude's College smelled like cheap vanilla body spray, bad cafeteria coffee, and pure, unadulterated panic.

Mehak clutched her economics textbook to her chest like a shield. She was a first-year student who lived by her planner, wore pastel cardigans chosen by her mom, and had never looked twice at a girl in her life. Her brain was strictly wired for textbooks, boring lectures, and staying out of trouble.

Then, Natasha walked through the iron gates.

Natasha looked like she owned the pavement. She wore an expensive leather jacket, dark wavy hair that fell like a shampoo commercial, and a smirk that whispered trouble.

"Who on earth is that?" Mehak whispered to her roommate, Sana.

Sana didn't look up from her chips. "That is Natasha. Do not look at her, Mehak. She is trouble wrapped in designer perfume. She eats good girls for breakfast."

Too late. Mehak's feet moved on their own.

By third period, thanks to a dropped pencil box and clumsy hands, Mehak tripped right in front of Natasha's locker, sending fifty colored pens flying across the floor.

Natasha crouched down, picked up a glitter pen, and held it up.

"Well, look what we have here," Natasha purred, her dark eyes locking onto Mehak's face. She leaned in close, smelling like mint and vanilla. "A cute little marshmallow. Let's see how long you survive in my world."

Mehak's heart did a wild flip. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She was completely hooked.

Chapter 1, Part 2: Breaking Down the Walls

Within a week, Natasha made it her personal mission to wrap Mehak around her finger.

Since Mehak was a straight girl who had never even thought about girls, Natasha took it slow, using soft touches and sweet words to melt Mehak's defenses step by step.

It started in the library. They sat side by side, sharing one pair of earbuds while listening to soft music. Whenever Mehak laughed at a joke, Natasha would gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind Mehak's ear, her fingers lingering just a second too long on Mehak's cheek.

"You have the softest skin, Mehak," Natasha whispered softly, her eyes dropping to Mehak's lips before looking back up.

Mehak's breath hitched. A warm shiver ran down her spine, but she brushed it off as just being nervous.

By week two, the touching got closer. When they walked down the crowded college halls, Natasha would casually slide her hand down, letting her pinky finger hook around Mehak's.

"Hold my hand so we don't get separated in this crowd," Natasha murmured, giving Mehak no room to say no.

Mehak's palm went hot. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She had never held a boy's hand like this, let alone a girl's, but the electricity of Natasha's touch made her head spin. She squeezed back, letting Natasha lead her away.

By week three, the innocent touches turned into pure seduction.

Chapter 1, Part 3: The Seduction Behind the Library

One afternoon, Natasha pulled Mehak behind the old brick library where no one else went. The shadows of the trees made it feel like their own private world.

Natasha backed Mehak gently against the cold brick wall, trapping her between her arms.

"N-Natasha, what are you doing?" Mehak stammered, her voice shaking as her back pressed against the wall. "People might see us."

"Let them look," Natasha whispered, her voice dropping into a low, sultry purr. She stepped closer, her body heat pressing right against Mehak's chest. "I only want you to look at me."

Natasha's right hand moved up, her fingers tracing a slow, burning path up Mehak's neck, stopping right under her chin to tilt her face up.

"You're so innocent, Mehak," Natasha teased softly, her dark eyes full of wicked amusement. "You think you're just straight, right? You think girls don't interest you?"

"I... I don't know," Mehak breathed, her eyes wide, completely paralyzed by how close Natasha was.

"Let me teach you, then," Natasha whispered.

Slowly, deliberately, Natasha leaned in. Her lips brushed softly against the corner of Mehak's mouth. Mehak let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying up to rest against Natasha's leather jacket, wanting to push her away-or pull her closer. She couldn't tell anymore.

"Does this feel wrong?" Natasha murmured against her skin, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss right below Mehak's ear.

"Natasha..." Mehak whimpered, her eyes slipping closed as a wave of hot, delicious heat washed over her entire body. Her straight-laced world was crumbling away, piece by piece.

Natasha smiled against her neck, tasting the victory. She captured Mehak's lips in a deep, slow, intoxicating kiss that stole the last of Mehak's resistance. By the time Natasha pulled back, Mehak was breathless, flushed, and completely, hopelessly in love-totally blind to the fact that Natasha was hiding a secret boyfriend named Zeeshan.

The next day, the campus gossip mill was spinning faster than a broken fan.

Mehak sat at the cafeteria table, staring blankly at her untouched sandwich. Her lips still tingled from yesterday behind the library. Every time she looked at Natasha across the room, a warm wave of electricity rushed straight to her toes.

Sana slammed her lunch tray down, shaking her head aggressively. "Earth to Mehak! You've been staring into space like a zombie who forgot how to moan. What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Mehak lied quickly, her cheeks turning bright red.

"Don't 'nothing' me," Sana squinted, pointing a half-eaten french fry at her. "I saw you hiding behind the library yesterday with the human hurricane. Watch yourself, Mehak. Natasha collects hearts like cheap keychains. She'll chew you up and spit you out."

Before Mehak could defend her, a new voice chimed in, smooth and dripping with mock sweetness.

"Oh, look, the campus security guard is worried about you," a voice purred from behind them.

It was Zara, Natasha's loud, glamorous best friend who knew every single scandal on campus before it even happened. Zara dropped into the empty seat next to Mehak, smelling heavily of cherry body spray and expensive lip gloss. She flipped her blonde-streaked hair over her shoulder and grinned. "Relax, snack-size. Natasha doesn't chew people up. She just drinks them slowly like an iced latte."

Before Sana could roll her eyes into another dimension, Natasha materialized beside them. She slid into the seat right next to Mehak, her shoulder pressing flush against Mehak's. Natasha smelled of vanilla, mint, and pure trouble.

Without saying a word to Sana or Zara, Natasha reached under the table. Her warm, soft fingers found Mehak's knee, gently tracing small, lazy circles through the fabric of Mehak's pastel skirt.

Mehak's breath hitched. Her entire body went rigid. She tried to move away, but Natasha's hand slid higher, gripping her thigh with a firm, possessive hold that sent a violent, delicious shiver straight up Mehak's spine.

"Having fun talking about me behind my back?" Natasha whispered, leaning her head close to Mehak's ear. Her hot breath tickled Mehak's skin, making Mehak's head spin.

"W-We weren't saying anything," Mehak whispered back, her voice shaking as Natasha's thumb brushed slow patterns against her skin under the table.

Zara chuckled, watching them with amusement. "Oh, please. Everyone knows you're her new favorite toy, sweetie. Just make sure you check your brakes before she drives you off a cliff."

"Shut up, Zara," Natasha said lightly, though her eyes never left Mehak's face. She tilted her head, her dark gaze dark and hungry. "Some cliffs are worth falling off."

Later that afternoon, Natasha dragged Mehak away from the noisy cafeteria and straight into the empty photography darkroom down the hall.

The room smelled of old chemicals and dust. The heavy red safety light cast a warm, crimson glow over everything, turning the small room into a secret, magical bubble far away from the rest of the world.

Before Mehak could even ask what they were doing, Natasha pushed the heavy door shut, locked it with a sharp click, and backed Mehak slowly against the smooth wooden counter.

"Natasha, someone might come in," Mehak breathed, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"The door is locked," Natasha murmured, stepping closer until there was zero space left between them. She placed both palms flat on the counter on either side of Mehak's hips, trapping her completely. "No one is coming in here. It's just you and me."

The red light caught the sharp angles of Natasha's face, making her look like a dangerous, beautiful painting. She reached out, her fingers gently tangling into Mehak's soft hair, tilting her head back.

"You've been distracted all day," Natasha whispered, her voice dropping into a low, sultry purr that made Mehak's knees turn to water. "Were you thinking about yesterday?"

Mehak's cheeks burned, but she couldn't look away from those dark, hypnotic eyes. "I... I don't know what you're doing to me, Natasha. I was straight. I never looked at a girl before. Why is it only you?"

Natasha smiled-a slow, wicked, incredibly proud smile. She leaned down, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of Mehak's neck, sending a fresh wave of heat washing over Mehak's body.

"Because you were never straight, my sweet marshmallow," Natasha whispered against her skin, her breath hot and heavy. "You were just waiting for the right fire to wake you up."

Mehak let out a soft, helpless gasp, her hands rising instinctively to grip the lapels of Natasha's leather jacket. The physical closeness was overwhelming, filling her senses with the intoxicating scent of vanilla and mint.

"Please..." Mehak whispered, her eyes slipping half-closed as Natasha's lips moved slowly up her neck, tracing a burning path toward her jaw. "Please don't play with me."

"I'm not playing," Natasha murmured softly.

She captured Mehak's lips in a deep, slow, hungry kiss. It wasn't rushed like the first time; it was thorough, deliberate, and utterly consuming. Natasha's tongue traced Mehak's lower lip, coaxing a soft moan from Mehak's throat before deepening the kiss. Her hands slid from Mehak's hair down her back, pressing her flush against her body until Mehak could feel the frantic, matching rhythm of Natasha's heartbeat.

Mehak's straight-laced world, her color-coded planners, her mother's strict rules-it all melted away into nothingness under the crimson red light of the darkroom. She gave in completely, her fingers clutching tighter at Natasha's jacket, pulling her closer into the dark, sweet trap.

By the time Natasha finally pulled back, leaving both of them breathless and flushed, Mehak was so deeply under her spell that even if a dozen Zeeshans had walked through that door with neon warning signs, Mehak wouldn't have cared at all.

The bell rang like a rude wake-up call, shattering the crimson-tinted magic of the darkroom.

Mehak stood frozen against the wooden counter, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips were swollen, her hair was slightly messy from Natasha's fingers, and her entire body hummed with a strange, dizzy kind of energy. She looked down at her pastel cardigan, wondering how the girl who had worn it that morning-safe, quiet, and ordinary-had completely vanished.

Natasha smoothly stepped back, adjusting her leather jacket with a cool, unbothered smirk. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small mirror, and checked her lip gloss as if they hadn't just rewritten the laws of physics in a supply closet.

"See?" Natasha teased softly, glancing sideways at Mehak with a wicked twinkle in her dark eyes. "Not so scary once you stop fighting it, is it?"

"You're impossible," Mehak breathed, her face burning hot as she quickly smoothed down her skirt. "If anyone had walked in-if Sana found out-"

"Sana eats spicy chips and judges everyone, darling. She doesn't scare me," Natasha laughed, a rich, musical sound. She reached out, casually grabbing Mehak's hand and intertwining their fingers. "Come on. Let's go face the boring world. But stay close to me."

As they walked out of the darkroom and back into the brightly lit hallway, Mehak felt a complete shift in reality. Walking side by side with Natasha, feeling the warm, firm grip of Natasha's hand locked with hers, the ordinary school corridors suddenly felt electric. Students whispered and glanced their way, but for the first time, Mehak didn't shrink away or pull her hand back. The intoxicating high of Natasha's attention had completely overwritten her fear.

Later that evening, the reality check arrived in the form of a cramped dorm room and a very suspicious roommate.

Mehak sat at her small wooden desk, staring blankly at her laptop open to an economics spreadsheet, but her brain was entirely somewhere else. Her phone lay right beside the keyboard, glowing softly every few seconds with incoming texts.

Across the room, Sana was aggressively painting her toenails neon pink. She blew on her toes, narrowed her eyes, and looked up at Mehak through the mirror.

"Okay, spill," Sana demanded, pointing the nail polish brush dangerously close to Mehak's direction. "You disappeared for an entire study period today, you came back looking like a Victorian ghost who just discovered caffeine, and your lips look like you ran face-first into a brick wall. What is going on?"

Mehak's heart skipped a beat. She quickly touched her lips, her cheeks flushing bright crimson. "N-Nothing is going on, Sana. I was just... helping in the photography room."

"In the darkroom? With the human hurricane?" Sana snorted, setting the nail polish down with a loud clack. "Mehak, honey, please. You are a walking neon sign right now. That girl is dangerous. She's got a trail of broken hearts behind her longer than a grocery receipt, and you're walking right into the blender."

"She's not like that with me," Mehak said defensively, though her voice lacked its usual strength.

"Oh, sweet summer child," Sana sighed, shaking her head. "Everyone thinks they're the special exception until they're crying into a tub of ice cream at 3:00 AM listening to sad Taylor Swift songs. Just... keep your eyes open, okay? And wear a helmet."

Mehak didn't answer. She turned back to her computer, but the moment Sana turned off her desk lamp to go to sleep, Mehak's hand flew to her phone.

She unlocked the screen. A new message from Natasha was waiting.

Natasha: Are you thinking about me, marshmallow? Because I can't focus on my homework. Meet me by the courtyard fountain in ten minutes. Don't wake Sana.

Mehak stared at the screen, biting her lower lip. Every warning Sana had given her echoed in the back of her mind. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew Natasha was trouble wrapped in designer leather.

And yet, three minutes later, Mehak was quietly slipping her shoes on, opening the creaky dorm door, and stepping out into the cool night air to answer the call of her favorite disaster.

The night air was cool, carrying the faint, sweet scent of damp grass and blooming jasmine. The campus courtyard was completely silent, bathed in the pale, ghostly glow of the moon. The old stone fountain in the center trickled softly, the only sound breaking the midnight quiet.

Mehak wrapped her pastel cardigan tighter around her shoulders, her footsteps echoing softly against the paved stones as she crept toward the fountain. Her heart was beating a frantic, nervous rhythm against her ribs. She felt like a criminal sneaking around after curfew, except her crime wasn't breaking rules-it was falling headfirst into a trap she knew was going to crush her.

And then she saw her.

Natasha was sitting right on the edge of the stone fountain, leaning back lazily with one leg crossed over the other. She wore a dark silk shirt that caught the moonlight and her signature leather jacket thrown casually over her shoulders. She looked like a creature of the dark, effortlessly cool, and breathtakingly dangerous.

As Mehak stepped out from the shadows, Natasha's dark eyes locked onto her. A slow, triumphant smile spread across Natasha's lips.

"You actually came," Natasha murmured, her voice like a soft velvet caress in the quiet night.

"You're crazy for calling me out here at midnight," Mehak whispered, stopping a few feet away, her breath pluming slightly in the cool air. "If the dorm warden catches us, we'll be suspended before midterms."

Natasha chuckled, a rich, musical sound that sent a pleasant shiver down Mehak's spine. She stood up from the fountain edge, closing the distance between them in a few slow, predatory steps.

"Let her catch us," Natasha whispered, stopping just inches away. She reached out, her cool fingers lightly brushing against Mehak's warm cheek. "I'll tell her I needed my favorite marshmallow to keep me company. She'd probably understand. Even the warden has a soft spot for good literature."

"I am not your marshmallow," Mehak protested half-heartedly, though she leaned instinctively into the comforting warmth of Natasha's palm.

"Of course you are," Natasha teased softly, her thumb gently tracing Mehak's cheekbone down to her lower lip. "Soft, sweet, and entirely irresistible once you get a little toasted."

Mehak's breath hitched. Standing this close under the moonlight, with Natasha looking at her like she was the only person in the entire universe, all of Sana's warnings evaporated into thin air. The guilt, the fear, the logic-it all melted away, replaced by a fierce, undeniable hunger for more of this toxic, beautiful attention.

"Why me, Natasha?" Mehak whispered, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes searched Natasha's dark, unreadable expression. "Out of all the girls on campus-girls who are confident, cool, and actually know how this world works-why pick someone like me?"

Natasha's expression softened, just a fraction. Her hand moved from Mehak's cheek to the back of her neck, her fingers tangling gently into Mehak's hair.

"Because everyone else is so painfully predictable," Natasha murmured, her voice dropping into a low, hypnotic purr. "They play games I wrote the rules to. But you? You look at me like I hung the stars, and yet you try so hard to be good. I love watching your walls crumble, Mehak. I love knowing that I am the only reason your heart beats this fast."

The words were pure poison, wrapped in sweet, intoxicating honey. But to Mehak, they sounded like poetry.

Natasha leaned down slowly, giving Mehak every chance to pull away, to remember her pastel cardigans, her strict mother, her safe and boring life. But Mehak didn't move an inch. Instead, she rose slightly on her tiptoes, closing the final gap between them.

When their lips met, it wasn't a desperate clash like in the darkroom; it was a deep, lingering, almost tender surrender. Natasha's arms wrapped tightly around Mehak's waist, pulling her flush against her body. Mehak let out a soft sigh, her hands sliding up to grip Natasha's shoulders, completely losing herself in the taste of mint and the warm, heavy scent of vanilla.

For a few stolen minutes by the midnight fountain, there was no Zeeshan. There were no fake screenshots, no secret boyfriends, no looming scandals, and no warning signs. There was only Natasha, whispering impossible promises of forever into the dark.

And Mehak believed every single word.