Page 40
Story: The Unseen
His lips twitch before he lowers his voice a few more octaves, repeating himself, “Wanna play a game, Olivia?” His voice is scratchy, and honestly, it’s kind of doing it for me. Like, yeah, I’ll play a few games.
“How about twenty questions?”
“That seems very tame,” I tease.
“Okay, let's make the questions good. And if you refuse, you have to do a dare.”
“What kind of dare can you do in a basement?”
“I can certainly think of a few things,” he says, his voice dangerously low, “but feel free to use your imagination, Killer.”
I swallow hard. “Twenty is too many.”
He shrugs, waiting me out. I suppose it’s not like he has much to do around here.
“Let’s make it five.”
“Fine, but I have one condition.”
“Okay?” I say hesitantly.
“No work-related questions.”
I open my mouth to protest, and he raises an eyebrow in defiance.
“Fine,” I concede, concerned at how quickly I give in to him.
“I’ll go first, as I’m the guest.”
I laugh, but he ignores me.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What’s my favorite color? You’re going to waste one of your questions on that?”
His eyes light up, and I get a flash of his teeth. “It’s not a waste. I’ve been dying to know.”
I think for a moment. “Yellow. But not the bright, garishyellow. More like a soft lemon.”
“Soft lemon. Got it.”
“Same question for you.”
He rolls his eyes but smiles again. “It depends on my mood.”
“Okay, and what is your mood today?”
His eyes dip down to my bright pink crop top and shorts, and my heart starts thumping wildly. I know what he’s going to say before it even leaves his lips.
“Pink.”
I turn away, trying to cover my manic smile with my hand. I think my skin has turned beetroot.
“There it is.” He sighs like a whimpering puppy.
“Could you stop?” I laugh, launching my chair pillow at him.
He catches it with ease and shifts it behind his back so he can get comfy.
“How about twenty questions?”
“That seems very tame,” I tease.
“Okay, let's make the questions good. And if you refuse, you have to do a dare.”
“What kind of dare can you do in a basement?”
“I can certainly think of a few things,” he says, his voice dangerously low, “but feel free to use your imagination, Killer.”
I swallow hard. “Twenty is too many.”
He shrugs, waiting me out. I suppose it’s not like he has much to do around here.
“Let’s make it five.”
“Fine, but I have one condition.”
“Okay?” I say hesitantly.
“No work-related questions.”
I open my mouth to protest, and he raises an eyebrow in defiance.
“Fine,” I concede, concerned at how quickly I give in to him.
“I’ll go first, as I’m the guest.”
I laugh, but he ignores me.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What’s my favorite color? You’re going to waste one of your questions on that?”
His eyes light up, and I get a flash of his teeth. “It’s not a waste. I’ve been dying to know.”
I think for a moment. “Yellow. But not the bright, garishyellow. More like a soft lemon.”
“Soft lemon. Got it.”
“Same question for you.”
He rolls his eyes but smiles again. “It depends on my mood.”
“Okay, and what is your mood today?”
His eyes dip down to my bright pink crop top and shorts, and my heart starts thumping wildly. I know what he’s going to say before it even leaves his lips.
“Pink.”
I turn away, trying to cover my manic smile with my hand. I think my skin has turned beetroot.
“There it is.” He sighs like a whimpering puppy.
“Could you stop?” I laugh, launching my chair pillow at him.
He catches it with ease and shifts it behind his back so he can get comfy.
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