“When did Josh and Taj say they were coming again?” she yells into my ear, making my eardrum rattle. The music thunders all around us, making it impossible for me to hear myself think, let alone hear what someone else says.
I pull my phone from my jean pocket with a grunt. The denim clings to me like a second skin. I’d rather be at home in my comfy sweatpants reading a book and drinking a glass of wine, but… instead, I’m here. The screen of my phone lights up, and I check the time.
Late. He’s fucking late. I wish I could say this isn’t a recurring thing, but it’s feeling that way.
“They’re late. Ten minutes to be exact,” I yell into her ear and shove my phone back into my pocket.
Kyla nods and wraps her pink-painted lips around the bottle of beer she ordered a couple of minutes ago. I’m drinking water because alcohol inhibits you, and I’m the least risky person I know for more than one reason.
“If Josh wasn’t so hot, I’d ghost him and pick someone else out of the crowd. There are plenty of worthy candidates in this bar tonight.”
That’s Kyla. Fun, carefree, and always looking for her next hookup. The opposite of me in every single way.
“Easy for you to say. Josh isn’t your boyfriend.” I try not to sound as dissatisfied as I feel, but if I’m being honest, things haven’t been looking good for a while now.
We’ve been having problems, and I don’t think either of us wants to admit it, but we’re growing apart. It started out merely as a physical thing. I never intended to let my feelings become involved, but I started to care for Taj. I gave him my virginity even when I knew I shouldn’t. He was my professor, and I was working under him as his teacher’s assistant.
Morally, we were crossing a line, but morals didn’t mean shit to me. Life is too short to worry about what someone else thinks is right or wrong. I earned the grade I got, regardless of whether I sucked his dick.
That isn’t my primary problem. No, my problem lies in the eerie feeling that follows me wherever I go. Ever since I came to America, I’ve been on the run, fleeing from an imaginary shadow I can never escape or see. All I know is, if I let that shadow catch me, everyone I love or care about will be killed.
It happened once, and I will not let it happen again.
Which was why I never let anything turn serious. Relationships are a no-go because eventually, people end up hurt because of me. Either that or I have to disappear into the darkness without a word said.
I would never want that to happen to me, so I choose not to do that to others. Taj isn’t like all the others, though, which led me to my current predicament.
Leaning into Kyla’s side, I say, “You know I can’t break things off with Taj if you’re trying to hook up with his best friend. It will make things messy.”
“You’re thinking too much about this. If you want to end things with him, tell him that. What’s he going to say?”
“It’s not what he’s going to say. It’s what happens after we’ve ended things and you’re still hooking up with Josh that’s the problem.”
Kyla takes a long pull from her beer bottle. Her gray eyes meet mine, and my irritation toward her mounts. Maybe I’m jealous of how carefree she can be? Or maybe it’s the fact that she isn’t running for her life, watching over her shoulder for a sadistic stalker to find her.
The urge to tell her I’m leaving right this second sits on the edge of my tongue, but something stops me.
No, not something…
“We both know I don’t stay with a guy long enough for it to become serious. We’ll have sex a couple of times, and then, like two grown adults, we’ll move on.”
I shake my head. “You’ve completely disregarded the fact that—”
She interrupts me, pressing her finger to my lips.
“Excuse you,” I grumble, ready to bat her hand away.
It’s then that I notice she appears to have gone into a trance. Her gaze is wide, and there’s this lustful shine to her eyes. It’s a look I’ve never seen before. She reminds me of a bunny in a trap, waiting for her predator to pounce.
“Sweet mother-of-fucking-pearl. If the actual devil was a human, this man would look just like him.”
I barely hear the words she’s speaking from the loud thump of music.
Curious to see just who she’s talking about, I turn on my ballet flats and look toward the entrance. It seems the entire room is looking in the same direction and at the same man as we are.
As soon as my gaze lands on him, I feel the intense urge to look away. The air in my lungs becomes heavy, and it feels like I’m breathing air through a straw. Who is this man, and why does he have such a strange effect on me?