My fingers brush the side of my neck, tracing the memory of his mouth on my skin.
Marissa glances at Eden, then back at me. “What did he say?”
His words wrapped around me like dark silk, spoken straight to the parts I keep locked away.
Those words were meant only for me, and I’m not ready to share them.
I look back toward the floor, lights strobing, music thundering around us, but it’s hollow now. “He asked if I wanted to play his game,” I say, voice low. “Obsession.”
And I didn’t say no.
“I asked for this. Not directly, but I said the words. And he heard me.”
Marissa’s expression tightens. “No. Don’t twist this into something it’s not. You aren’t responsible for some psycho who overheard you joking around and decided it was an invitation.”
Eden shakes her head. “Marissa’s right. You didn’t ask for this.”
But I did.
I gave it life. I put the fantasy into existence by speaking it aloud, lighting a match in a dark room.
And he was there to see the flame.
On the dance floor, my body saidyesbefore my mind could weigh in. Before fear ever opened its mouth. And when he vanished into the crowd, I didn’t want him to go.
But I say none of that. Not here. Not to them.
Eden grabs her purse with a finality that leaves no room for argument. “We’re leaving. Now.”
The lights blaze brighter, and the bass pounds through my chest. We push toward the exit, bodies pressing past us. I pause long enough to glance back at the crowd. Dark silhouettes shift in a blur of shadow and light, and I realize I don’t know how close he still is.
Is he still watching?
Something deep in my gut says he is.
Brielle slips her arm around my shoulders. “Hey, don’t listen to them. You deserve someone who can match fire with fire.”
Match fire with fire.
Is that what this is? A blaze I won’t walk away from unburned? Or something deeper, something that scorches from the inside out?
I don’t answer her. I just keep walking, heart still hammering.
Marissa’s gaze sweeps the sidewalk, sharp and anxious. “Brett and I will drive you home. After tonight, I’m not letting you take a rideshare.”
I nod, throat tight. “Thanks.”
The car is too quiet. Streetlights smear across the windshield, the city blurring past in streaks of red and gold. My pulse still pounds, but it’s quieter now. Duller. The edge of something sharp has softened but hasn’t disappeared.
I lean my forehead against the cold glass, eyes fixed on the dark.
He’s real. His hands were on me. His voice was in my ear, whispering things that rewired my pulse. Words that shouldn’t make sense but did.
And I let him.
No, I leaned into it. Welcomed it. My body wanted every dark promise he offered.
I don’t know when he’ll come again, but this is no game for amateurs.
