Page 33 of Shadowed With Fear

“I didn’t realize Liz was here.” He shoots me a stern look.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would be a problem.” I question, confused.

“It’s not, I just wish you’d had let me know.”

Liz clears her throat before pushing herself up onto her forearms. “Can we please get something other than the Diner? Please? I had to wash my hair three times last night to get the smell of fryer oil out of it.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem. Tacos?” Brahm’s eyes look between the two of us, but I’m not paying him any more attention than I was Liz earlier. My eyes are raking over every little inch of skin I can see of Grayson. I haven’t seen him shirtless since my sophomore year of high school. And God has he changed. He’s covered in tattoos. I would give anything to get close enough to inspect each minute detail of every single one. Maybe with my eyes…or my tongue.

I shake my head. And of course, he catches that. Fucker catches everything. His head tilts a little to the right in thought, before a small smile causes his lip ring to twitch.

“Yeah, tacos would be perfect. Thank you, Brahm!” Liz calls from behind and it breaks the moment.

“Awesome, now please, go shower, and quit dripping grossness all over my side of the house, thank you!” I call and slam the door shut.

“Chicken?” He calls back to me.

“Yes, please!”

I take a deep breath and the peace of them leaving lasts a full five seconds before Liz speaks up.

“Wanna explain the eye fuck I just witnessed?”

This time it was my turn to hit her with the pillow.

Dahlia

He was watching. The burning intensity of his gaze rolled through me like standing by a fire after hours spent in the frozen air of a winter storm. It starts in the fingertips, trailing whispered promises—threats—inch by inch up my arms, across the delicate flesh of my neck and chest, settling deep in my core, bursting like fireworks in the furthest crevices of my body. He was always watching. And I was always living in the inferno of his stare.

Outside, the silvery hue of moonlit swathed the street in a blue toned haze. Trees shifted softly. Shadows danced across the pavement. I had decorated weeks ago—much to Brahm’s dismay—but East End was slowly catching up. On our street, Mr. Harrison had put out bales of hay at the end of his driveway this morning, and Mary-Ann Carter had strung up orange lights on her porch that glowed like a beacon in the cool night.

I had the perfect view of our street from the window by my desk. Yeah, maybe I should have been focusing on my Film Theory homework, but the incessant feeling of eyes on me was far more distracting—interesting. No matter how hard I looked through the shadows and darkness, the moon didn’t shine brighter, didn’t beam into the corners of endless nothing. Yeah, my shadow was out there. Somewhere. Seeing every part of me, mind, body, soul, and I saw nothing of him.

I had thought of telling Alexander or my brother about my extreme admirer, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As much as I knew I should, and trust me I knew how these things go, every horror movie tells you exactly how this plays out, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t afraid of him. I liked it. I wanted his eyes on me, day after day. It was riveting. Enthralling to know I had bewitched this man. His mind was ensnared by my existence. And deep down, is that not what we all wish for? To be so cherished that we alter the life of someone. To become the breath they breathe, the beat of their heart, the thoughts in their mind. Is love not just an acceptable form of obsession?

My phone screen lit up a split second before the shrill ring cutoff the soft music filling my room.

Liz Bear calling…

“What’s up?” I put it on speaker phone. Static sounded before Lizzie’s voice began.

“Hey, D. I’m not going to be able to make it to your house tonight.” I deflated. I was disappointed, but mostly I was relieved. Playing with the pens in the cup on the corner, I replied, “It’s alright. I understand.” I stood and paced around my room.

“Jack asked me to stay after my shift. Bobby’s wanting the walk-in cleared out for the new inventory. Apparently, there was a mix up and he ordered too much shit, so we gotta make room before it comes in the morning. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I know you wanted to talk about something important. Rain check for tomorrow?”

I stretched tall, my arms raising high above my head. My tank top rolled over the swell of my stomach settling in the sharp dip of my waist. My flannel pants, rolled at the waist band, slid up the same curve. No matter what I wear, everything ends up cropped or high waisted.

I grumbled shrugging everything back in place, only for it to fall back the way it was seconds later.

“Yeah, Liz. Rain check. At least now I can grab snacks for tomorrow night.”

“Okay, babe. Sounds great! Get me some Oreos! And root beer!”

I grimaced, “Root beer? Ew, since when?”

“Since like fifteen minutes ago when I had seen a case in the back room that looks like it was from ‘82 and remembered it’s fucking bomb,” she giggled on the line. The sound is harsh compared to the usual full-bodied joy from the bad connection.

“Ugh, okay. Whatever. That’s nasty but whatever you want. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, Liz.”