Page 8 of Who The Hell Are You?

A flurry of pings sound from beneath me and I scurry to grab the phone, my glazed eyes reading over the influx of messages from him.

@Cass.cowbells: Ah shit delete that!

I didn’t mean to send that. It wasn’t for you.

I fucking swear if you do not delete that.

I bet you’re wanking to this you fucker.

ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!

Delete it

I look over the ridge of his abs and tight pecs one more time, adding the way his tattoos all blend together beautifully one more time before clearing my thoughts enough to form a reply. Yeah, it’s a little annoying that he clearly took that for her and not me, but he still went into his album and sent me the masked picture, aware of the full photograph or not. He did what I asked of him.

This man is going to be fucking mine.

Pushing the urge down to run upstairs and play with my dick, a devilish smirk slips onto my lips as I type back and finally put my phone away for the evening.

@yourghostboy: I was there for you. See you soon baby.

I may or may not have done things all night to the picture of Cass in his mask. Gorgeous body aside, the expressional mask seemed to bore into my soul and I couldn't get enough of thinking what he'd do to me in it.

After waking up late and mini Miles screamed at me that enough was enough, he'd fall off before he could take any more, I took a shower and threw on an oversized green knitted jumper and my usual black jeans. It was Saturday and I’d finally run out of excuses to not run errands. I set off from the house to grab my groceries and if a couple of pumpkin candles fall in my basket? I'm not to be blamed.

The walk to the closest grocery store is brisk, the air already becoming sharper with each exhale and the high sun is desperately trying to provide heat. It gets me giddy, my favourite month of the year only weeks away. I'd already brought out my array of autumn tone jumpers and flannels, dusting off my boots and I always had a thick collection of movie t-shirts to hand. I lived for October and all things spooky, especially old horror classics. Dracula, Monster Squad, The Lost Boys. Pure cinematic magic made to appease our spook obsessed brains.

Sliding on my headphones to drown out some of my surroundings, I enter the store, immediately grab a basket and head down the aisle in front of me, picking up a few things because we don't have the biggest refrigerator and we all can't seem to figure out a fair balance. Anytime either of us tries to work out a schedule to maybe share food or split cleaning, the conversation always ends in utter chaos. We all do our own shopping and clean up after ourselves. I get a little impulsive with the hoover so I end up covering both floors anyway.

My feet naturally guide me to the decor section on the hunt for autumnal goodies, but my shoes catch against vinyl when I hear two familiar voices over my low music. One is placating but the other soothes every muscle in my body.

Cass is here.

I’m about to breach the aisle he’s down, so I throw myself low on the corner shelving, crouching whilst I yank my headphones off and shove them into my backpack. I even discard my shopping basket, edging around the corner slightly to see if I can get a peek without being caught.

There he stands in all his glory and unfortunately Grace is with him, but she seems disinterested looking at her phone. This woman never pays him enough attention, the atmosphere between them quiet but it feels so dry—far from a comfortable silence. Cass wears a black denim jacket with jeans that are so well fitted, I could lick his toned legs. His white t-shirt contrasts against all that black, especially the tattoo’s that show over the neckline. He looks smart, like they’re heading out into the city for some drinks, but what I like about him is the way he still leaves his hair a mess of curls. I’d assumed they were spending the day together, but dragging my gaze down Grace’s appearance, she looks ready to jump into a study cocoon that consists of her not moving out of bed all weekend. Her hair is tied up messily and she wears a giant rugby hoodie supporting the city, with sweats and trainers. I’ve never seen her so casual, so maybe they’re on their way back from his. I don’t know where he stays—the problem that got me into our little confrontation in the first place.

Cass studies a cute Halloween themed mug with bats on it, whilst she sighs and finally pulls her face away from her phone.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m going to spend the weekend catching up on my lit paper. I didn’t finish the last two chapters either. I'm not going to be able to come up with a summary.”

Fiddling with the mug, he pops it down on the shelf and drifts to a small trolley that is half filled with fresh vegetables and meat. “That’s fine, I can cook us dinner tonight and you can crack on.”

“No Casper. I’m going to head back to mine and lock myself away till it’s done. You know I can’t fall behind, we’ve not even been back at uni for a month!” She says, sighing exasperated, like she’s already tired of having to explain this to him.

Tilting his head up to look at the overhead lights, I see the side of his jaw flex and he unhooks his hand from the trolley. “Why are we here then babe? Why are we food shopping if we’re not getting anything for dinner?”

Grace shrugs, returning to her phone and tapping her nails on the screen. “I don’t know—I thought you were getting something.”

“So when I asked you what you fancied for later, whilst outside the shop, you didn’t think anything of that?”

“No, I thought you might have wanted inspiration for your meal prep.”

“Baby fucking Jesus.” I hear him mutter, but she’s oblivious to his sour mood and the way he stares a little sad at her.

Tapping something out, Grace pockets her phone into her joggers pocket and closes the distance between them to place a light kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you on Monday. Let’s try that Thai place that just opened on the bank, yes?” She doesn’t wait for him to even reply, before leaving the aisle thankfully not in my direction. I watch him shift from foot to foot before his head drops, returning to the trolley. Before continuing though, he backs up a few steps and stares once again at the bat mug, his hand snaking out to grab it and place it down with his food.

Still crouched on the floor, I stretch my neck further out into the open as Cass carries on shopping, his steps rushed like he’s determined to get out of the store. I use my knuckles to move my body away from the shelving, rushing myself over to the next row and as I duck down, he starts to make his way down looking at the snack options. Slowly I bring my phone out of my pocket, opening my social media app, I’m already still logged into my masked account and I pull up the message to Cass. I’d left the conversation there last night, but I am dying to see his reaction in the light of day.