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Déjà Vu: “Already seen. Déjà vu occurs when someone perceives they have already experienced a situation before, and their body experiences familiarity with the experience and confusion.”

I was going to find out where this man was from, and then I would ruin him.

Concentrating on the lesson in music class felt impossible. My head was spinning with the possibilities of why those green eyes and dark hair felt so familiar. I mean, I saw him in the graveyard, yes, but he felt familiar, familiar…ugh.

“Fallon? You are spacey today. What’s up?”

I looked over at the only person I could call a friend in my fucked-up life.

Sasha was a sweetheart. She knew more about me than I probably even knew myself, but telling her about that weird day at the cemetery wasn’t an option. I needed the facts before I began gossiping like some teenager. I was twenty years old, not thirteen.

“Hellllo? Earth to Fallon.”

I lowered my saxophone in my hand, not really having used it in the first place. The professor was reviewing reeds and the proper blowing technique. Of course, everyone was giggling like the immature idiots they were.

“What? Sorry. Long day. Did you need something, Sash?”

Sasha sighed and pulled some gum from her purse by the chair.

“I said…” she said with a huff. “Did you see that hot as fuck professor last class? Oh my god, girl, can I get an ‘F’ for fucking yum, please?”

I snorted, fidgeting with my stockings. That man had slid his eyes over every inch of me, and the fact that he forced me to call him ‘professor’ irritated me way more than it should.

Ugh, what a twat hole.

“Meh, he’s all right, I guess,” I said, not meeting her eyes.

Sasha smacked my leg, causing me to jolt. “Are you blind? He is delicious.”

Sasha was boy-crazy. With her looks, I supposed it made sense.

No guy would ever turn her down. She had bright magenta hair that fell in ringlet waves well past her knees and a body all these morons would kill to touch.

It probably helped that Sasha was down with whatever sex was given. If it was good, she’d take it.

I had to admit that her taste was decent. As infuriatingly annoying as Professor Masters was…he was gorgeous.

“Fine, he’s okay to look at, who cares?” I said in aggravation. “Don’t go fucking the professor, please.”

Sasha laughed her ass off. In fact, she was so loud that we got shushed by the goody-two-shoes in the front row.

“We’re not in high school, love. If given that option, I would hop on that faster than he can ask.”

I guess I didn’t fault her. We were adults. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but did it really matter?

“You do you, Sis. Or I guess you do him.”

She clapped excitedly and twirled her hair in her hands. I knew this was a habit she often did when she was nervous.

“What gives? You know everyone loves you, so it’s not like he will reject you.”

She chewed on her thumbnail, giving me a half smile.

“Actually…,” she said with an expression I couldn’t quite read. She looked almost shy. “He looked like he may be into someone else in class.”

I pondered that. There were plenty of girls and guys alike practically wagging their tongues at him with ‘fuck me eyes,’ but he didn’t give any one of them recognition or reciprocation.

Sasha poked me in the boob.

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?” I whined, rubbing the sore spot her talon left.

“You, dumbass,” she said, doing a facepalm.

I still didn’t understand the boob assault, so I stared at her, waiting for something more to go on.

“Oh my god, Fallon, you are such a blonde!”

Now, I was being insulted, so clearly, I missed something.

“You, Fallon. You. You caught his eye. He couldn’t stop staring at you the whole time, and he cut his class in half to get you to talk to him. Are you really that dense? I love you, but girl .”

It was like her words had smacked me upside the head. The hot professor was not staring at me. I just annoyed him. He wasn’t interested in me.

Before I could voice my protests, Sasha was squealing at a text.

“Oh my god! We just got invited to Darcy Beck’s party tonight!

It’s apparently being held in one of the empty high rises on Maple Street.

The owner went to jail for murder or some shit.

Darcy lived on the sixth floor and said she had access to his house.

She found the spare key on top of the door frame a while back, and they party when it’s empty. ”

I hated parties…and in a murderer’s home? Yeah, it sounded great.

“Do not even think about saying you aren’t coming, or I will use your beautiful hair to strangle you.”

I sighed. I didn’t want Sasha to go to some weird party alone, so it looked like I would have to wait on sleuthing into the professor’s past for now.

“Fine,” I begrudgingly agreed. “Text me the address, and I will meet you there at eight o’clock.”

The neighborhood was creepy at night. It didn’t matter how rich a place was.

This place was straight from a horror film with its quiet, horribly lit streets and the air of menace lingering with each breath.

I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was a feeling I couldn’t shake. This place was just wrong.

I texted Sasha for the billionth time, making another round by the grunge dumpsters at the apartment.

Fallon: Sasha, I swear to god, if you don’t answer me, I am personally going to find this old murdering tenant and give him your head gift-wrapped!

Growling to myself, I walked up the steps and sat down with a huff.

“Do you think we will meet the murderer?” one partygoer said aloud when she arrived at the place. She stopped at the steps and stared at the daunting building in fear.

I snorted. “I wouldn’t mind a few people meeting a murderer.”

The girl grimaced, standing idly next to me. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Reaching inside, I sighed in relief to see Sasha’s name on the screen.

Sasha: Sorry, love! I am already here. No murderer! :( Where are you?

Refraining from doing a facepalm, I glanced up at the girl, who was still frozen on the steps.

“Good news. No murderer here tonight. You can go on up.”

The girl audibly sighed and trekked the rest of the way up the staircase. I, however, was not so sure. Would a murderer be okay with a bunch of drunk college kids partying in his old home? Did he murder victims in this building?

I walked around the back, avoiding the beer bottles and cardboard boxes thrown up against the wall. A door at the back led into the building, and it didn’t look like it had any cameras or security around it, unlike the front. Maybe there were more spare keys to be found.

I stared at the alleyway. A streetlamp illuminated that area, and it was better than being in the dark like the steps.

“Not afraid of the dark, Little Voyeur?”

I jumped a mile, spinning around to the voice. None other than my fucking professor stood in the darkness, haloed by the streetlight behind him.

“What is your deal? Why do you keep popping up everywhere I am?”

He thought I was the voyeur. Ha!

He shrugged. He had on running gear, and god help me. The way that damn shirt hugged what was clearly a million abs was making me feral.

“Heard there was a murderous rager. I thought I’d stop by and check it out. What has you out here daydreaming and not inside with the others?”

What the hell would a professor want with a ghost story from college students?

“Do you run here often?” I questioned, ignoring his statement.

So what if I zoned out a lot? He smiled, adjusting his sound device that was in the little velcro strap attached to his massive bicep.

“When there is something to chase? Sure.”

This man reminded me of a cat. No, a mountain lion. A wolf, something that enjoyed the hunt.

His smile was almost primal. I couldn’t see them in class, but his body was covered in tattoos. Head to fucking toe, just a painted canvas of ink. I couldn’t make out the designs, but god, they looked as dangerous as he did, especially in the dim lighting.

“What are you chasing?” I said aloud, stepping backward. He followed my steps, keeping the same distance between us.

I bumped my ass into the backdoor, and my breath hitched, watching him get closer to me under the light.

Definitely a wolf.

I remembered the feeling of his body against mine on that desk, the heat searing my mind.

“The story,” he answered.

I shook my head, trying to comprehend the change in his movements. He had been stalking me, moving up step by step, ready to eat me. Now, he was jogging in place, rummaging in his shorts pocket for something.

“I—uh…” I stammered, not able to get a fucking grip on reality.

He smiled as he approached me, humor sparkling in his green eyes. I was still trying to comprehend my damn life when he pulled a copper key from his pocket and reached for me.

“What the—?”

That smile didn’t falter when a click sounded behind me, and the door swung wide.

He had a key?

“Good night, Little Voyeur. I will see you soon.”