And…Jesus. Her scent grows more potent the longer I stand here. More tempting.
I’d stick around to sniff her all night, except time’s running out.
Her group sounded like they were about to try to leave.
I take a step closer. Two.
As if sensing that too, Skylar shivers. Then I hear her. “Hello?”
The softest sound.
I flip my hand and toss the charm on the floor beside her.
My nostrils flare at the sound of another one of her innocent gasps. My chest is on fucking fire when—without looking back or at my reflection—she snatches the gift in her small palm.
My gift. My trouble. Mine.
5
SKYLAR
My heart’s pounding. I swear it’s about to jump out of my chest and land at my feet any second now.
Yes, it’s impossible. Yes, it’s something people say when they’re being melodramatic.
But I feel it.
The pounding against my ribs is as real as the green charm in my hand.
Curiosity forces my eyes open to look at the gift, though that’s all I can do. Bringing myself to look at him is impossible.
Just the thought of it unsettles me.
This entire day does.
As if on cue, my body crumples. I plant one hand in the dirt for balance before my head gives up, too, bowing low.
A shuddering breath tears through my throat.
I strain to listen for any sound, for any hint that the man behind me is still there.
Any sign that I need to run.
“Hello?” I repeat. I beg.
Whoever this is, they have to answer. Have to give me something. Some proof that this is okay. That he’s not a monster.
Except I don’t need him to tell me anything. I know there’s something wrong with him. Gifts don’t getthrownat you.
Gifts are offered. Given with a smile.
When we were kids, our parents showered us with presents. Their apologies came wrapped in boxes for being called to the hospital during my recitals or Bronwyn’s basketball games. For the nights when the nanny was the one holding us through nightmares.
This person, this man, lurked behind me. Scared me half to death before tossing this thing I’m clutching.
And yet…the butterflies in my stomach, they’re fluttering. Aggressive. Wanting.
This isn’t right, me craving his dark presence.
