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"Fair enough," Gavin replied, all easy confidence. "But just so we're clear, the offer stands."
"Offer noted," I said, tucking away the spark of desire his words ignited, somewhere deep and dark where it belonged.
"Good," he grinned, and I couldn't help but grin back, even with the weight of my secret admirer hanging like a guillotine over my head.
The clink of empty glasses and the buzz of late-night chatter trailed us out of the restaurant, the city's pulse was a backdrop to my quickening heartbeat. Gavin's hand at the small of my back seared through the fabric of my dress—a brand that whispered promises I wasn't sure I was ready to cash in.
"Thanks for not being a serial killer," I joked, my voice laced with the kind of sarcasm that came from one too many Tinder dates gone wrong.
"Night's still young," he smirked back, his eyes flickering with a mischief that did things to me—things that should probably have come with a warning label.
We reached the entrance of my apartment building, its brick facade a silent witness to this tightrope walk between desire and caution. The air between us crackled as we stood there, inches apart like two magnets resisting an inevitable pull.
"Invite me up?" He leaned closer, and I caught the scent of his cologne, a spicy, woodsy aroma that made me want to say yes to just about anything.
"Into my haven of art supplies and existential dread?" I retorted, but my heart thrummed a dangerous rhythm beneath my ribs. "Tempting, but..."
But what? That I had a shadow lurking somewhere in the digital world, salivating over my next move? Or that every time I closed my eyes, it wasn't love scenes but darker, twisted fantasies that got my motor running?
"Scared?" His voice was soft, a whisper that carried the weight of a challenge.
"Terrified," I admitted, and it wasn't just some flirty banter. My life lately felt like walking a cliff edge in the dark—one misstep away from a plunge into chaos.
And then, as if the universe decided I needed another push towards said edge, my phone buzzed in my clutch, the vibration jarring against my thigh like an electric shock. It was a notification, because of course it was. Because why the hell would I get to enjoy a moment without interruption?
"Shit," I muttered, the word slipping out as our lips hovered mere breaths apart. The tension snapped, our little bubble of almost-intimacy burst by a text or an email or whatever fresh hell my phone decided to deliver.
"Something wrong?" Gavin's brow creased with concern—or was it frustration? Hard to tell when my mind spun a roulette wheel of paranoia and pent-up lust.
"Probably just my art blowing up again," I said with a forced lightness. "Nothing kills the mood quite like internet fame."
"Or it could be fate telling you to take a chance," he suggested, a smirk playing on his lips that made me wonder just how reckless I was willing to be tonight.
"Or it's fate saying, 'Hold up, girl. Remember that shit about consequences?'" I shot back, even as part of me wanted to hurl the damn phone into the nearest sewer grate.
"Guess you'll never know unless you check," he said, stepping back, giving me space I wasn't sure I wanted.
"Fuck fate," I declared, more to myself than him, my thumb hovering over the screen, undecided if I was more afraid of finding out who was trying to reach me or of letting Gavin go without knowing what his lips felt like against mine.
I flicked my thumb across the screen, unlocking the damn thing that dared interrupt what might've been a seismic kiss. The notification glared up at me—a private message on my blog, where I spilled ink and secrets into the void. My breath hitched. Only one person slid into those DMs with such unnerving timing.
"Shit," I muttered as the words on the screen coalesced into a threat that chilled my blood. My secret stalker admirer had left his calling card, a message vile enough to make Satan himself blush.
Let him touch you and he’s dead, Celeste.
So he wasn’t joking. The crazy bastard actually went through the trouble of tracking me down based off of a single photo.
"Everything okay?" Gavin's voice cut through the fog of disbelief, but I was too caught in the web of twisted arousal to look at him.
"Fine, just—just give me a sec." My throat felt tight, strangled by the dark ribbon of masochistic pleasure that wound itself around the fear. What kind of screwed-up wiring did I have to get off on being someone's prey?
"Bad news?" There was that mix of concern and something else again—curiosity maybe? Hell, it could be anticipation for all I knew. Gavin wasn't exactly an open book.
"Someone's idea of a joke," I lied, my voice a pitch higher than I intended. "You know, cyber trolls with nothing better to jack off to than terrorizing women online."
"Assholes," he agreed, too readily.
"Biggest assholes," I echoed, tucking my phone back into my purse. The message burned in my memory, igniting a wildfire of taboo desires. I should have been disgusted, repulsed, ready to call the cops or at least block the bastard. But there was this...thrill.
