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My phone is in my hand before I know it, the camera lens fixating on her like a hawk. Click after click, I capture her laughter, the way she tucks a stray lock behind her ear, the subtle furrow of her brow as she reads. She's poetry in motion, and I'm the silent scribe, immortalizing each mundane yet sacred moment without her knowledge. I'm crossing lines I never knew I'd blur, but the pull to have her—to own every part of her life—is an anchor dragging me down into depths I can't resist.
"Hey, isn't that Autumn from our chem class?" a voice whispers too close to my ear. The intruder is a nobody, some varsity wannabe who thinks he can swim in my current.
"Back off," I growl, low and menacing. My warning is a dagger thrown in the dark, and I watch him recoil. "She's not for you. Not for anyone."
I don't look at him. My gaze never wavers from her. But I can feel his confusion, his fear.Good. Let him spread the word. Let them all understand. Autumn is untouchable, wrapped up in the protective shroud of my claim.
The guy backs away, hands raised in a gesture of defeat. "Alright, man. Alright. She's all yours."
But she doesn't know. Sweet Autumn, lost in her book and the taste of her drink, is blissfully unaware of the tempest swirling around her. Unaware of the storm that is me, Brennan Spears, the one who watches over her with the fervor of a zealot.
As she gathers her things and walks out the door, I follow at a distance. Each step she takes, I match it. Every time she glances back, I fade into the scenery like I'm one with the shadows. I'm the whisper of a threat that never quite materializes, always there but never seen.
The sun dips lower, and the streets grow cooler, but the fire inside me rages unchecked. The hunger, theneedto make her mine, it's a living thing within me, clawing its way out. I'll follow her to the ends of the earth, haunt her footsteps, and ward off any who dare to approach.
Because Autumn Runions belongs to me. And I won't rest until she realizes it too.
I scroll through the pictures on my phone, each one a stolen moment, a piece of her soul that I've claimed. The gallery grows daily, a testament to the breadth and depth of my desire. I zoom in on a photo where the sun kisses her skin, creating a halo around her. In my mind, I trace the lines of her face, a ritual as necessary as breathing.
The hunger to possess her fully claws at my insides, an itch that demands to be scratched. It's more than physical. It's primal. My role as her protector, her unappointed guardian, it blurs into something darker, something that demands submission and domination. I want to be the only one she sees, the only one who knows the secrets that flicker behind those soft brown eyes.
Tonight, I'll pour over the images again, tracing her silhouette on the screen until the line between fantasy andreality blurs. I'll lose myself in the contours of her form, the imagined scent of her skin, the phantom taste of her lips. It's only a matter of time before the dam breaks, before my control slips and I claim her in every way imaginable.
Because Autumn won't just be in my phone or my head. She'll be mine, body and soul. And nothing will stop me from taking what I already know is rightfully mine.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Autumm
The thumpof bass vibrates through my bones as I push open the front door, stepping into a cacophony of voices and music that clings to my skin like humidity. Excitement flutters in my chest, but nerves twist my stomach into knots. Tonight, I'm shedding my wallflower skin. I'm here, at the epicenter of high school glory—a football party.
My fingers lace together, a shield against the pulsating energy of tipsy teenagers who move with a confidence I can't fathom. Eyes darting, I navigate through clusters of classmates, their laughter spiking like fireworks in the night sky. They're a species I study but don't quite understand, their interactions laced with innuendo and a casual touch that speaks volumes.
I float on the edges of their world, a ghost haunting the fringes. My innocence, a gleaming badge of naivety, reflects in my wide-eyed gaze as I absorb the scene. Girls in skimpy dresses and guys with arms like steel cables, all so sure of themselves, of their place in this microcosm of adolescence.
I sip from a plastic cup filled with punch, its sweetness clinging to my lips, and pretend that it doesn't taste like foreign territory. The sharp tang of alcohol hidden beneath sugary deception is a riddle I'm not equipped to solve. But I'm here, trying to decipher the code, to find the rhythm of their dance.
"Autumn, right?" A girl slurs slightly, her eyes glossy. I nod, surprised she knows my name. "You should totally let loose, have some fun for once."
Her words are a dare, an invitation to shed my skin and be reborn in the fire of their revelry. And for a wild heartbeat, I consider it. I consider diving into this sea of bodies and emerging someone new, someone seen.
"Maybe," I reply, my voice a whisper lost in the roar of the party, and turn away to continue my silent vigil, my journey of putting myself out there one timid step at a time.
The thrum of the bass reverberates through my bones as I weave between clusters of gyrating bodies. The air is thick with the musk of sweat and perfume, a potent blend that makes my head swim in this chaotic tapestry of teenage excess. Each step feels like a trespass into a domain that isn't mine, but I push forward, drawn by the intoxicating allure of the unknown.
And then I notcie the star quarterback.
Brennan Spears stands like a deity among mortals, his broad shoulders cutting a commanding silhouette against the flickering strobe lights. Dark brown hair falls carelessly over a furrowed brow, those piercing blue eyes scanning the room with an intensity that feels almost palpable. His laughter booms, a rich sound that draws the crowd closer as if they're moths to his flame. He exchanges high-fives and claps on the back with his fellow gladiators—his teammates—each gesture exuding an effortless charisma that cements his place at the apex of this social hierarchy. Even in this den of noise and confusion,Brennan's presence is a magnetic pull, anchoring everything within his orbit.
My breath catches as his gaze sweeps across the room and lands on me. For a suspended heartbeat, the clamor around us fades into nothingness. His eyes lock onto mine, a jolt of electric connection sizzling across the crowded space. My pulse races, hammering against my ribs with a ferocity that threatens to break free. It's as if he sees me, truly sees me—the hidden depths, the secret desires, the shadowed corners of my soul laid bare under his scrutiny.
In that drawn-out moment, the world narrows down to the space between us, charged with a current that hums with dark promises. The thud of my heart is a drumbeat, erratic and wild, syncing to the rhythm of his stare. Everything else fades to a blur of insignificant motion. There is only Brennan, with his sculpted jaw and the unspoken challenge in his eyes.
My cheeks flame, and I spin on my heel, a fresh surge of energy pulsing through me after Brennan's gaze brands me from across the room. I'm a live wire, buzzing with an intoxicating mix of fear and desire. My feet carry me toward the makeshift bar set up on a folding table, lined with bottles glinting under the low light like forbidden treasures.
"Here goes nothing," I mutter under my breath, reaching for a bottle at random. The label is a blur of colors and fancy script, promising a burn that could either warm or scorch. My fingers tremble as they wrap around the neck of the bottle, unscrewing the cap with more force than necessary.
