Page 83 of Shadowface

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, but I won’t. School’s too busy, and Mikael told me not to run away from him. Simple polite words, I realize now, were a command.

“Please consider it, Summer.” The phone clicks dead before I can answer.

“I won’t,” I mutter. My mother and I have barely spoken since my father died.

I’m unable to move. It’s like he controls me completely. Last night I stared out the window for an hour, wishing I could escape. I want to run away from here—away from him, away from this nightmare—but my legs won’t budge. The thought of it makes me sick. He’s in my head, manipulating my thoughts.

Over the past three days, I’ve learned there is no one named Mikael who attends this school with that peculiar spelling.

No reference to him at all, anywhere, as if this town wiped him clean.

I am absolutely sure that Mikael lives somewhere deep inside Lincoln’s head. And because of the news article, I am certain Mikael was there first.

I turn to my side, keeping my head on the ground, and type in Lincoln’s name again. His picture pops up as I stare at his superficial IG profile.

He’s so gorgeous, so composed and dark, his skin so smooth. His jawline cut so tight, his clothes hugging his body, wearing all black like he always does. His skin is a soft pale white, like a ghost, like he barely exists, and whoever snapped this photo caught the very edges of him. An ethereal image of perfection.

Even now, it’s like he’s staring right at me through those thick glasses. Goosebumps pebble my skin as my nipples grow hard beneath the fabric of my dress.

He’s always watching…

I lie back on the grass, and even though I’m wearing a trench coat, only a thin line of my panties covers me beneath my dress. I open my legs like my life depends on it.

Dammit…I’m missing something so obvious. Something right in front of me. I’m missing him again, tortured, waiting for him to call when it seems like he is blatantly ignoring me.

I grab my phone and swipe to SF, my nails tapping the screen.

Summer: I’m done with you. Pick someone else to torment.

I slam my phone down, not expecting a response. The worst part is I’m not even upset or scared of what this guy is capable of. I’m rabidly pissed off because he’s playing phone games with me, like we are actually dating, and I’m unsure if I should play hard to get or let him know I’m interested.

He’s winning in every aspect of this game right now.

A few minutes go by, and I wonder if he’s even going to bother answering me. Then he messages me, causing the butterflies in my stomach to stir.

Fuck him…finally.

SF: Hello to you, too.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath before opening them again. No indication which version is behind these words.

Summer: Why are you ignoring me?

SF: I’ve been busy, Summer…I defend my thesis in January.

I let out a sigh. So normal…on the outside. Just writing his thesis, while at the same time, mind-fucking girls.

Summer: Well, I’m studying, too. I just…

SF: Do you miss me watching you? Because I promise, I can’t stop thinking about you, either.

I run my fingers along my lips, imagining him watching me, and they twitch into a smile. I play with the hem of my dress, laying my bare legs out under what’s left of the heat of the sun.

Summer: Yes, I miss you.

I hate admitting it, but I’m unable to lie to him. He seems to see right through my lies, anyway.

SF: I love the dress you have on, pretty girl.