We pulled up to the old amusement park, the one that now ran on donations and leftover magic.

I slid off the bike, heart still fluttering from the ride, and handed Nick his helmet.

He took it with a grin, nodding toward the ticket booth.

I followed him, our steps almost synchronized—like we'd done this a hundred times.

At the counter, he leaned in and purchased two mega passes. No hesitation. No question.

Then he reached for my hand. Not forceful. Just... natural.

Like we were already a couple. Like this day already belonged to us.

His fingers laced through mine as we crossed through the gate.

The park was alive. Bright lights, distant screams, laughter carried on summer air. Kids darted past with cotton candy. Couples posed for selfies. And the carousel spun like a memory refusing to fade.

This place shouldn't have felt magical. But it did— Because he was beside me.

We hit the roller coaster first, the line shorter than I feared. I expected a wait. A crowd. But everything felt... lighter.

We passed through the entrance gate, and that's when I saw him.

Henry. Laughing— really laughing. Like I'd never seen him do before.

Then I saw Bryan. Their hands were linked. Close. Intimate.

And then— they kissed.

Right there. In front of the coaster entrance.

I froze. My chest ached. But... not as bad as I thought it would.

I looked at Nick—he was smiling at me. But the smile vanished when he saw my face.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Um... yeah," I said. Automatically. Reflexively.

But something inside me shifted. The sting wasn't heartbreak. It wasn't jealousy. It was... clarity.

I'd liked Henry for so long. In silence. In secret.

But now... I was beginning to realize those feelings were fading. Slipping into something softer. Not romantic. Just... familiar.

And Nick— Nick was different. Real. Present.

And with that single glance, I knew. I had more feelings for Nick than I ever did for Henry.

And now I had a new secret to keep.

One more layer to carry.

But somehow... I was okay with it. 

We strapped in, and the coaster roared to life— screams echoing in all directions. I joined in, half-laughing, half-screaming, my voice swept into the wind with every twist and turn.

And then— a cotton candy fluff came flying at us.

It hit Nick square in the face. Pink sugar everywhere.

He blinked once. Twice. And then looked like he'd gone full monster mode on it— wide-eyed, sticky, confused. A sugar-coated menace.

By the time the ride screeched to a stop, we were laughing so hard my ribs ached.

We checked the photo screen— and there it was.

Me: mid-laugh, face lit up with joy. Nick: pink fuzz on his cheek, glaring with pure annoyance.

I lost it again. And I swear—he almost smiled. Just a twitch of the mouth. Still mostly annoyed. Still wearing that cotton candy war wound like a crown of indignation.

"Should we get more cotton candy for you?" I asked, barely holding it together, a tear already rolling down my cheek from laughing too hard.

He turned slowly. Eyes narrow. Grin sharpening.

Then—attack.

"No ma'am," he said, and lunged. His fingers dug into my sides and I collapsed— a mess of shrieks and flailing limbs.

"Nick—stop! I'm gonna pee myself!" I hollered between hiccuped laughter. My legs kicked uselessly. Breath gone. Dignity nonexistent. He had zero mercy.

We were on the ground, rolling in laughter. Pink sugar still clung to his shirt like war paint. I couldn't stop laughing.

Then— through the chaos, he leaned close.

"Then agree to date me," he said, soft but wicked.

I was crying from laughter now—actual tears streaming down my cheeks. "Okay, okay!" I gasped. "I'll date you. Just—stop the tickles!"

His fingers froze.

Then his grin widened. A silent victory.

Like he hadn't just stolen my breath. Like he'd stolen my heart too.

People walked by, smiling. Some stared. One kid pointed and laughed at us.   

After the amusement park, the night still held a gentle glow as Nick dropped me off at home. I glanced out the window—Mom's car wasn't in its usual spot. Since the sun hadn't fully set yet, I figured I was safe for now. The cool air mingled with the fading warmth of the day, settling around me like quiet anticipation.

I slid off his bike, my heart still racing from the evening's excitement. Before I could even reach the door, Nick stepped off too.

With a tenderness that made the world seem to narrow down to just us, he reached out, his fingers curling around my arms, pulling me into a close embrace. His words were soft—almost a whisper meant only for me.

""I'm not yours," I teased, tapping his chest with two fingers, both defiance and affection tangled in my voice.

Nick tilted his head slightly— a slow, wicked grin blooming on his lips.

"You sure about that?" he asked, voice dipping into a velvet growl. His arms slid around me again, pulling me in closer.

My heart stuttered. "You don't own me," I whispered, trying to stay steady.

His eyes sparkled with a quiet certainty. "Oh, yes you are," he murmured, his grip lingering—warm and possessive. The weight of his words curled in my chest like a whisper I didn't know I'd been waiting for.

"Anna!"

I whipped my head toward the porch. Jackson sat there, cigarette pinched between his fingers, eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?"

He stubbed out the cigarette, rising from the steps—baggy jeans torn at the knees, black tank top stretched across his chest with the Deadmule Man logo glaring. He walked straight into Nick's space, smoke still clinging to his skin like warning.

"What are you doing, boy?"

Nick met his glare calmly. "Nothing."

"Yeah, you better not."

"Jackson!" I stepped between them. "Leave him alone—he's not doing anything. We just went to the amusement park after work, that's all!"

Jackson sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. I'm heading inside." But before disappearing, he spun back around.

"Boy, I better not see your hands on my baby sister again, you hear me?" He pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at Nick. "I'm watching you."

Nick stayed unfazed. Climbed onto his bike. The engine purred beneath him like a heartbeat.

Then he looked at me one last time—eyes still smoldering, voice low.

"Text me when you're safe inside."  

And just like that, he was gone— wind in his wake, engine fading, heartbeat lingering.

It felt like the blink of an eye.

His silhouette melted into the soft shadows of nightfall, leaving behind a warmth still curling in my chest, and a promise unspoken. Something I could feel... but not yet name.

Stepping over the threshold of my home. The door closed softly behind me, re. Leaning against the familiar wall, I replayed the evening in my mind—the crisp night air, the gentle strength of his embrace, the whispered confession that still echoed like a secret promise.

"Who is he?" I heard Jackson ask from the couch in the living room.

I glanced over. His legs were sprawled out, arms folded, watching me with wary eyes.

"He's... my boyfriend now," I said softly. "But you can't tell Mom. Please—I'm begging you."

Jackson raised a brow. "What about Henry? I thought you liked him."

I sighed, tired and flustered. "Things change."

He exhaled sharply, leaning back. "Well, if he pulls any funny business—I'll kill him. You hear me?"

"Yes, Brother dearest," I said with an eye roll, half teasing, half annoyed.

Jackson sat up straighter, serious now. "Anna... please." There was a crease between his brows. "There's something off about him. I can feel it."

My chest tightened.

"Just... be careful around him. Promise me that. Please."

"I'll be careful," I whispered, voice thin. "I promise."

"I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

I turned toward the stairs and hurried up, taking them two at a time before the weight of the evening could catch me.

In the solitude of my room, I sank onto the edge of my bed. The dim lamplight flickered softly, casting shadows across the walls—quiet reminders of everything racing through my head.

How could something so simple—a hug, a few whispered words—change the way the whole night felt?

There was magic in that vulnerability. It shimmered between the lines of everything unspoken, promising new beginnings even as the night stretched ahead.

I moved to the window. Outside, the horizon still held traces of orange and pink, bruised with dusk. I let myself smile.

This wasn't just the end of an evening. It was the beginning of something uncharted. Something that might break me... or remake me.

I pulled out my phone and texted him: Safe inside.

Then I curled beneath the blankets— and slipped into sleep before the uncertainty could follow.

The next day was my day off, and unsurprisingly, I ended up sleeping in.

I woke to the familiar sound of gentle purring, warmth pressing against my chest.

Oreo.

I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Oreo, come on," I mumbled.

He blinked up at me—slow, unfazed, as if completely unbothered by my urgency.

Then, with deliberate laziness, he stood... only to immediately collapse again, his paw landing right in my face like I was his personal headrest.

I groaned. "Oh, come on, cat."

With a half-hearted shove, I pushed him off.

He landed gracefully, turned, and stared at me—betrayed, offended, judging me with the weight of a thousand grievances.

Then—he sauntered away, slow, deliberate, his departure as dramatic as his arrival.

"Dumb cat," I muttered.

Stretching, I scratched my head, yawned, and dragged myself to the bathroom.

I grabbed my toothbrush, still half-lost in sleep, and glanced at the mirror.

Then—I froze.

My clothes sat just slightly hanging off—not dramatically loose, but noticeably different.

For a moment, I just stared.

Then, realization hit.

Finally! I was losing weight!

I blinked at the number on the scale, stunned, then grinned.

Had I really not noticed it before?

Seven pounds gone—just like that.

"Holy cow, that's a good sign," I murmured, stepping off the scale.

Excitement bubbled up inside me, and I rushed to tell Mom—but the house was empty.

Bryan's room—empty too.

Where was everyone?

Frowning, I wandered down the hall and cracked open Jackson's door.

Predictably, he was asleep—with yet another woman curled up beside him.

I sighed, quietly shutting the door, grabbed a banana and a bottle of water, then headed out to the gym.

By the time I arrived, Brenna was working the front desk, her usual warm, welcoming smile in place as she assisted a customer.

Thank goodness—otherwise, she would have jumped me into a hug immediately.

I thought I was safe—until arms wrapped around me from behind.

"Guess who?"

Nick's voice was deep, teasing.

I groaned. "Um, a giant ugly gorilla?"

His low chuckle rumbled against me.

"Now that ain't nice," he mused, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping in mock offense, like he expected me to take it back.

"Nick," I whined, "I wanna work out."

"Oh, just a few more minutes," he said, tightening his grip playfully.

I finally wiggled free, turning to face him with a pout.

Nick grinned. "So—getting ready to work out again today?"

"Yep," I said.

His expression shifted—playful, but oddly serious.

"I'm kidnapping you after I get off work today."

Before I could respond, Brenna called from the desk, rolling her eyes.

"Nick, get back to work now."

With a mock salute, he jogged toward the Samba classroom, disappearing inside.

I sighed and hopped on the treadmill, slipping my headphones on as Black Roses played.

The rhythmic pounding of my steps steadied my thoughts, the music drowning out everything except my breathing.

For once, I focused on nothing but movement, letting the steady rhythm quiet my mind.

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Hey, lovely readers 🖤

Thank you for reading Chapter 8 of True Love’s Bite. This one was sugar-spun chaos wrapped in tension—and somewhere between cotton candy explosions and “text me when you’re safe,” Anna said yes.

She laughed last night. This morning, the scale whispered. Mom’s car disappeared. The church flyer pulsed with eerie promises.

And Nick? He’s soft now. Warm now. But his presence feels deeper than desire—like a hand laid gently over a heartbeat that no longer belongs to her.

This chapter is for the romantics who blush at tickle fights… The ones who feel weight drop in all the wrong ways… The ones who know possession doesn't always need violence—it just needs time.

Drop your theories below. What did Anna lose? And what will she still give away without knowing?

We’re reading every word, every gasp, every spark.

—Luna-chan 🥀

Next time...

Bryan said yes. But not out loud. Anna felt everything—except safe. The church handed out flyers. The town smiled too easily. And under the scent of cologne and cotton candy, another silence was growing. They kissed. They laughed. They chose. But somewhere between their hearts and the horizon— something else chose too.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰