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CHAPTER
ONE
Brennan
I'm hunched behind her,the hard plastic chair barely containing my frame as my gaze locks onto Autumn Runions like she's the only thing that exists in this dull classroom. My eyes, sharp and blue as ice chips, track every dip of her wavy brown hair cascading down her back. The way it sways with each subtle tilt of her head sends a jolt through me, a current electric and dangerous.
She's got no clue how much I watch her, how close I am to crossing lines I've drawn a thousand times in my head. She scribbles notes, oblivious, and each stroke of her pen across paper is an intimate secret I'm desperate to know. Her fingers, slender and precise—I imagine them entwined with mine, imagine pulling her close, feeling the soft press of her body against my own.
The thought alone is enough to quicken my pulse, to heat my blood until it's singing in my veins. Each beat of my heart is a drum, loud in my ears, thrumming with the rhythm of want, of need.
"Spears, you paying attention?" The teacher’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain, and I give a nod that I hope passes for attentive. But the moment his back is turned, my attention flickers back to her, to Autumn.
I want to reach out, to run a single finger down her arm, to witness the shiver I know it would summon. To see if her skin feels as smooth and warm as it looks under these harsh fluorescent lights. It takes everything in me not to touch her, to keep my hands clenched tight beneath the desk instead of reaching for what I crave.
It's a dance we're in, though she doesn't know the steps—doesn't even hear the music. But one day, I'll find a way to pull her into my arms, to guide her into the rhythm only I can hear. It's a dark melody, one full of longing and obsession, and I'm just biding my time, waiting for the right note to strike.
For now, I sit and watch, my whole being honed in on her every breath, every shift in her seat. I'm a statue carved of hunger and restraint, but even stone can crack under pressure. And one day, I will have her. One day, she'll realize I'm the only one who can protect her, the only one who sees her truly.
But not yet. Not today. Today, I am content—or as content as a man starved can be—to simply watch and wait.
We're seniors, so we're both eighteen. How I want to just leave this school and take her away with me.
The bell's shrill cry slices through the stagnant air of the classroom, signaling freedom. But for me, it's the starting gun in a race where I'm the only one who knows we're competing. Chairs screech against linoleum as my classmates rush toward the door, but I linger, my eyes never leaving the soft sway of Autumn's hair as she gathers her belongings with delicate grace.
My muscles coil beneath my letterman jacket, poised to move, yet I force myself to wait. Patience. It's all about patience. The last thing I need is for anyone to notice—especially her.
Finally, with calculated nonchalance, I rise and trail after her, keeping a few paces back. I'm just another student lost in the ebb and flow of the crowded hallway, just another face in the crowd. No one gives me a second glance, and that's how I need it to be.
Autumn's scent lingers in the air, a mix of vanilla and something floral, an intoxicating blend that sends my senses into overdrive. My gaze locks onto the gentle bob of her head as she weaves through the sea of bodies, utterly unaware of my presence. My hands twitch at my sides, aching to reach out, to pull her into my orbit and never let go.
She veers off into the library, the hushed sanctuary of knowledge and solitude. I hang back, waiting until the coast is clear before slipping inside. The heavy door closes behind me with a soft thud, sealing us in this world of whispered words and lingering looks.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch her disappear between towering shelves, her figure a beacon drawing me deeper into the labyrinth. Each step I take is calculated, each breath I draw filled with her essence. It's like a drug, one I can't get enough of, one that courses through my veins with every beat of my pulse.
I weave through the stacks, my eyes darting from the spines of books to the fleeting glimpse of her brown hair around a corner. My desire to be near her grows, an insatiable hunger that tightens my chest and sets my nerves on fire.
She's close—I can feel it. Every cell in my body screams for proximity, for the chance to bask in her presence without the barriers of desks and classmates. This silent chase, this dance of shadows—it's maddening and exhilarating all at once.
And as she settles into a secluded nook, oblivious to the storm raging within me, I stand hidden in the alcove ofliterature, watching. Always watching. My heart pounds out a frantic rhythm, echoing the chaotic swirl of my thoughts.
But I mustn't get too close. Not yet. For now, I'm a ghost haunting the edges of her world, a specter of yearning cloaked in the guise of a high school jock.
For now, I watch. And wait.
The scent of old books and hushed whispers fills the air as I watch Autumn tuck herself away into a secluded corner of the library. Her delicate fingers trace the lines of text in a book she's just plucked from the shelf, oblivious to the fervent gaze that clings to every curve.
My pulse throbs in my ears, a relentless drumbeat that syncs with the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. She's so close, yet untouchable, nestled among the shadows and knowledge that line these sacred walls. But even as she loses herself in pages and words, I can't tear myself away from the living story before me—the one where she's the protagonist and I'm the silent watcher, consumed by visions of a future where I'm all she needs.
I shift slightly, my muscles coiled tight with restraint. The hunger inside me twists, demanding release, demanding her. Images flicker through my mind—her body pressed against mine, her whispered pleas filling the dark, the way her eyes might widen in shock and then soften with trust when she finally understands how fiercely I'd fight to keep her safe.
Every instinct screams at me to step out, to break through this self-imposed barrier and claim the space beside her. To wrap my arms around her small frame and pull her into the world I've built for her in my mind—a fortress against the chaos, where only I can touch, can know, can possess.
The darkness within me stirs, it claws at the edges of my being, begging to be let loose. It's power, it's possession—it's the intoxicating thought of Autumn, mine in every possible way.My body tightens, every nerve alight with the electric buzz of longing.
But I hold back, rooted in place by the knowledge that the time isn't right. Not here, not now. Patience, the predator inside me hisses, patience and planning will win her over. And when she finally turns to me, seeking the protection she doesn't even know she craves, I'll be there, ready to envelop her in my world.
Silently, I vow to shield her from the unworthy, from the mundane existence that fails to recognize the gem she is. I'll be her savior, her knight clad not in shining armor but in the unyielding strength of my devotion.
