Checking the time, I have a few more minutes before I have to be downstairs… And the immediate tickle of zeal in my gut makes me nauseous.
It’s foolish, pathetic, and downright creepy. But I can’t stop myself. This has become theonlything that gives me even the mildest sense of excitement.
Taking out my phone, I hold my breath as I check, hoping for a Google alert, an update. Something…anything.
But there’s nothing.No new reports.
My gut falls even further in disappointment. It’s been quiet for too long…I guess that’s a good thing for him.
I, on the other hand, feel like I’m being ghosted, and it’s completely idiotic.
God, what a fucking weirdo I am…
I should begladthe sexy bank robber I’m crushing on in secret hasn’t been arrested, or has no heat on him which would warrant his name popping up on Google. I shouldnotbe moping about it just because it means I don’t get to see his gorgeous facein pictures and read news about him and concoct all of these elaborate fantasies about what it would be like to…
Clearing my throat, my muscles are still and I tuck my phone away, grumbling at myself, “Psycho stalker…”
This obsession has been going on for way too long, and it’s a problem. Because I can’t stop thinking about him, and Ihaveto.
I’m married. I have awife.
Icannotbe thinking about the beautiful Russian criminal, with his pale skin and his puffy lips, and his silky platinum hair…
How soft it would probably feel in my fist. How extraordinary it would look to have him gazing up at me from his knees, with watery eyes, and those plush pink lips stretched wide around my—
“Five minutes!” Velle pounds his fist on my bedroom door, and I jump.
Shaking from a rush of fast adrenaline fueled by guilt. It’s fucking ludicrous. No one knows what I do in here. What I think about, and obsess over… What I’ve been hoping to see on my phone screen formonths. But the shame still heats my face.
I know I need to stop, but I just can’t. Seriously, I’ve never had a crush last this long before. I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality.
Breathing out a slow breath, I close my eyes and compose myself.
Everything is fine. Stuff it all down. Shift the mask back into place.
These feeling can stay buried deep in the cobwebbed corners of your mind…
The shadows in your heart that no one has ever touched.
Leaving my bedroom, scowl firmly intact, I head downstairs to join the others. Joy and Jasper are already in the foyer, waiting. Theearly risers. They like to get a workout in before first shift, no matter how late they were up partying. I usuallyprefer to work out at night, despite knowing it’ll just keep me up. Not like I sleep anyway…
I lie in the dark and stare, apparently.
Peters comes down to the sounds of Velle barking at Hancock from the third floor, “Get the lead out! OrSimon saysSimon’s getting his ass beat!”
“God, help us…” Peters huffs.
We nod at one another. That’s the extent of our pleasantries.
And he’s one of my best friends on this island.
“He needs a purge,” Hancock says on his way down the steps. “Big time..” He gives Joy dabs. “No one should be wound that tight first thing in the morning.”
“You’re the dipshit for testing his patience,” Joy mutters, then turns, looking me over. “Good morning, Kelz.”
“If you say so,” I grumble, and she chuckles—a barely-there breath of a sound—shaking her head.
I don’t always work early shifts, but since I’m on purge with them tonight, my schedule was switched up. I’m what they call analternate, meaning I can be on any shift, mainly because they know I don’t mind doing either. But also because I’m one of few who have been extended the courtesy of a minor freedom…If you could call it that, which I’m not sure I would.
