Chapter 913: Chapter 913 Type
"I’ll drop you off, Carrie," Ross said firmly. "Don’t bother with the train station anymore. That’s just a waste of time."
His tone made it sound less like a suggestion and more like a fact—like gravity or the sunrise, something inevitable.
And Carrie, still caught in the pull of his presence, didn’t have it in her to argue.
She nodded, almost shyly, her heart fluttering in her chest.
It was easy to see why a young virgin like Carrie—someone who had never really stepped into the world of romance—could be swayed by a man like Ross.
He wasn’t just charming; he was overwhelming, larger than life.
And in that moment, walking beside him, Carrie felt both nervous and strangely safe, as if she’d stepped into a story she never thought she’d be part of.
***
Ross got Carrie’s number, and from then on, they chatted and talked every single day.
Their conversations grew longer with each passing night, starting with lighthearted jokes and ending with deeper talks about family, dreams, and frustrations.
After just a week of this, Carrie finally agreed to go on a date with him.
"You really came," Carrie said softly when she saw him waiting outside the restaurant.
She couldn’t believe Ross had actually traveled all the way.
Her city was far from Parkland City, where his home was, and few men would have gone to such lengths.
"I wouldn’t miss it for the world," Ross replied with his easy smile, the kind that made her chest tighten without her knowing why.
The two began their evening with a quiet dinner. Ross kept the mood light, making her laugh between bites, but every now and then his gaze lingered on her in a way that made Carrie feel like she was the only woman in the room.
Afterward, they went to a late-night movie.
It wasn’t anything special, but to Carrie it felt different—she wasn’t used to a man giving her so much undivided attention.
When the movie ended, Ross suggested a walk.
The night air was cool, the streets mostly quiet, and Carrie found herself talking more freely than she ever had before.
They spoke about her studies, her hobbies, and even her little annoyances in life, and Ross listened with genuine interest, never once looking at his phone.
By the time he drove her home, she felt oddly comfortable with him, as though she had known him longer than just a week.
He dropped her off just before midnight.
"Good night, Carrie," he said, his tone gentle but firm, leaving her with the sense that he could have pushed further if he wanted to—but chose not to.
Carrie smiled, lingering by her doorway longer than she needed to.
"Good night, Ross. Get home safe."
Nothing happened between them that night, of course. Ross wasn’t in a hurry.
He was thinking about the long game. He knew that if he made haste, Carrie would only put up her guard, and once that happened, he’d get nowhere near her bed.
Instead, he would let the anticipation build, let her come to trust him, and when the time was right, she would let down her walls herself.
And that was how Ross always played to win.
After that, every weekend Ross would come to visit Carrie.
It became their quiet routine, a secret world they shared away from prying eyes.
Carrie never told a soul about it—not her best friend, whom she usually confided everything to, nor her parents.
Each meeting felt too precious, too fragile, as if speaking of it aloud might shatter the magic.
Ross was careful, too.
Whenever he came, he wore a disguise—sunglasses, a cap, sometimes even a hoodie pulled low—to avoid being recognized.
He was a celebrity after all, and the last thing they needed was a crowd forming around them, snapping pictures and posting them online.
Their time together was short, and Carrie wasn’t about to share it with strangers.
To cover her tracks, Carrie fed her parents the excuse of working on a group project.
At first, it sounded harmless enough, but soon, it became her go-to explanation for her late nights and weekend outings.
Her parents believed it, or at least pretended to, but even Carrie knew she couldn’t keep that lie going forever.
***
One month passed quickly, and during that time, Ross’s presence had already begun to change her.
Carrie smiled more often without realizing it. She hummed little tunes while doing chores.
She checked her phone far more often than before, waiting for Ross’s messages.
And though she tried to act the same around her parents, the shift was obvious.
It was her mother who noticed first.
"You’re in love," her mom said one evening, her sharp eyes catching the way Carrie drifted around the kitchen, a dreamy smile tugging at her lips. "Tell me who the lucky guy is."
"Mom, that’s not true. There’s no one," Carrie replied quickly, too quickly.
She hated how defensive she sounded, but she couldn’t help it.
She met her mother’s gaze and felt a pang of unease—it was like staring into a mirror.
Her mother was still breathtaking, with long black hair that framed her face elegantly and a body that still drew attention wherever she went. Carrie knew she had inherited much of that beauty, and her mother knew it too.
"I know you, Carrie. Don’t lie to me," her mom pressed gently, though there was firmness in her tone. "I need to see this guy—or else, no more weekend trips for you."
Carrie’s eyes widened. "Mom—"
"Listen to me," her mother interrupted, softening her voice but not her resolve.
"Don’t think of this as me being controlling. I just want to be sure you’re in good hands. You don’t know how boys can be these days. They can seem sweet and charming, but with the right opportunity, they can turn into monsters. You’re a very beautiful girl, Carrie, and that makes you vulnerable. You need to be vigilant. I did not raise a stupid girl, or did I?"