Cedrick:
You like good boy dont you darlin
Me:
No.
Cedrick:
Liar
I see you
I see when you lie
Its cute
When you get all red
I wanna kiss the blush
And then bite it
Oh, God. I swallow and tug my bottom lip between my teeth as I glance up at the light fixture, where I know Cedrick is looking at this exact moment. And for some reason I can’t explain, I push to my feet and walk to the center of the room, just below where I’m sure it must be.
I reach up on my tiptoes and blow the camera a kiss before walking out of my room, leaving my phone behind as I find my roommates to spend the rest of the afternoon with them—away from my stalker and his sweet-talking words that are quickly becoming way too much.
It’seasy to talk to him… and that’s a problem.
The next night on the phone, I find myself revealing things that I never would have otherwise. And it’s nothing of pertinence either. It’s small, stupid things like my favorite color—green—or my favorite food—pizza.
“Pizza?” he parrots, and I flush.
“I don’t know.” I twist my fingers. “I just really like it.”
“No, it’s cute,” he drawls, and I flush.
“It is not! It’s just food!”
“If you say so, treat. So, tell me more about you.”
I gulp, hating the heat in my face. “Isn’t this supposed to be you telling me things? Why am I sharing things with you?”
There’s a pause. And then, he says, “Because you want someone to know you, Madison. And I want to be that person.”
I stop breathing for three beats of my heart, and then, I choke on an inhale. “Oh.”
“Oh?” he parrots. “Was that too much?”
“Too much? N-no, I just…”
“My favorite color is black,” Cedrick blurts. “My favorite food is mashed potatoes, and my mom is an alcoholic. Fireball is her drink of choice, but really, she’s not picky. She’ll drink what’s cheap if she doesn’t have the money—and she usually doesn’t. It’s why I left with Kaser—why we moved up here. Well, that, and because their mom, Lillian, died. But that was a whole other thing, and that was so hard on both of us?—”
“Cedrick…” I breathe.
He seems to finally take his own breath. “Yes?”
“Why are you telling me these things?”
