Page 35 of Shadowed With Fear

A yawn forced itself from my body as my feet pad over to my desk. Liz had texted me when she got home. I replied and asked her if she was sure there wasn’t anything else she wanted tonight for our impromptu girl’s night. A few texts from Brahm. One from a group project in seminar. The last one was new.

Unknown

My heartbeat spiked. With a shaky hand, I clicked on the message.

Unknown: You flush so pretty for me, little flower.

Jesus.

I get dressed and make my way down the stairs.

“Hey, D! Grab the paper!” Brahm shouts from the kitchen. He must have gotten home really late, or really early this morning.

The porch is cold on my bare feet as I pad down the stairs to the newspaper lying on the sidewalk.

It’s a cold, foggy morning. In the distance I can hear the faint caws of a crow, and high in the mountain line, a stray beam of sunlight shines in golden tones.

My hand is on the doorknob when a piece of paper catches my eye.

ENJOY YOUR GIFT.

Gift? What gift?

My steps are slow into the house. I drop the paper off on the kitchen counter, body moving on autopilot to my room.

It was the first time my shadow had left me something to find the next morning. A swift glance around my room noted nothing out of place. I walked to the balcony door, pushing the glass open. The fall morning nipped at my exposed skin. Sitting to the left of the door was a large pumpkin and a potted plant. The blossoms were a deep red, almost black. A dahlia.

A photo was staked in the soil.

It was a beautiful picture. It was me, laughing, head thrown back in pure joy, light filtering through my curls creating a halo around me.

My heart clenches. It’s amazing.

I run my fingers over the image walking back into my room. When I lay it on my desk, my right fingertips come away tinted red.

My brows furrow. I flip the picture over, and written in dark red, smeared ink:

REMEMBER THE MOMENTS WHEN IT ALL SEEMS WORTH IT FOR THE TIME WHEN HOPE IS LOST.

Grayson

God. I am so fucking screwed.

Grayson

I lied. I lied so hard. I can’t stop thinking about her. That goddamn girl. I’m as angry as I am infatuated with her apparently. Dahlia. Fucking Dahlia.

Who else in their right mind would do a fucking strip tease for the random guy watching them through a window?

But no. She just had to go and do it. And it had me harder than fucking steel.

Maybe that’s why I lost all good judgment and took her note. A bold fucking move on both of our parts. I swear it’s like she is begging for trouble. No self-preservation. Running headfirst into terrible ideas.

But God. I can’t complain. Her little show was like sinking into a wet dream. And she was soaked.

A perfect, round, plump ass in the air just waiting for my hand to paint it red. Her thighs, so smooth, thick, fleshy. I want nothing more than to be smothered between them. And all of it was on display, just for me.

But it wasn’t me though, was it?