It’s all hush-hush, low-voiced, secret-smile territory, but I don’t care.
It’s new for both of us.
And honestly, if we went public now? We’d probably implode.
Besides… I like the secrecy. The thrill. The way Lex watches me across campus like he owns me, which, in a way, he does, even while pretending he can’t stand me. It makes something in me burn.
And then there’s another man who’s also obsessed with me. My masked stalker.
Yeah. Him.
Or, well…Lex.
He started messaging me again.
And even though I know it’s him—no question, no doubt, not after everything—I’m still playing along. I can’t help it. It’s addictive. That darker version ofLex, the one in the mask, says things Lex doesn’t always say out loud. Things that make my skin heat, my breath hitch, my fingers shake as I type back.
It started innocently enough.
A photo of me lying on my stomach on the bed, no shirt, the curve of my spine visible as I wrote in my sketchbook.
Then one with my hoodie unzipped, hanging off my shoulders, showing just enough to tease. The bare line of my hip, the top of my thigh, nothing explicit—but suggestive enough that my stalker replied with:
You’re going to kill me, princess.
Then I sent one more because I was feeling bold—me in front of the mirror, towel low on my hips, one bite mark darkening my collarbone. One Lex left.
And that one earned me:
If you only knew what I want to do to you right now…
Which, for the record, I did know. Because he did it that same night.
Well, without his mask, but still. It was just as hot.
The funniest part? On campus, Lex still acts like he hates me.
He still throws in a jab, an eye-roll, a comment loud enough for people to hear. It stings, sometimes. More than I want to admit. But then I look at him—really look—and I know he doesn’t mean a word.
It’s just a part he has to play. Since he’s still figuring himself out. And I know for a fact, that if the truth that Lex isn’t as straight as his teammates/friends arebelieving gets out, it would destroy everything for him.
Because the second we’re alone, the act drops.
And Lex apologizes in ways that should be illegal.
But in a way both of us clearly enjoy.
Let’s just say he’s gotten absolutely reckless with how good his head game is. And yes—sometimes I provoke him on purpose. A little sarcastic comment, a smug smile, something that makes him snap just enough that we argue, slam doors, whisper-yell…
And then he’s on his knees.
And I’m gone.
It’s messed up. Completely. But it’s ours.
This twisted little loop of tension, fighting, need, want, and the kind of makeup sex that ruins us both for hours afterward.
I lie awake at night sometimes, thinking about it. About him.
