Page 9 of Tempt Me

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.”

Five

Message: A significant point or central theme, especially one that has political, social, or moral importance.

If it was so important, why wasn’t I told when it mattered most?

I walked upstairs to my flat. The party morons were trickling out of my doors.

Stepping past a couple practically fornicating on my front door, I continued on. There was so much weed I could get high from just taking a deep breath or two. Smells were mingling together, sex and booze, with vomit and body stench.

How long did I have to keep staying here?

I walked in the kitchen, grabbing a beer, popping the top off on the counter. Turning, a pink-haired girl was in my space. She stared at me in her drunk as fuck state. Her makeup was smeared, and her blue eyes looked glassy.

Was this chick okay?

“He…hey,” she slurred, falling onto the counter and wiping drool off her face. “I know you! You wanna bang my bestie.”

Rolling my eyes, unsure who the fuck this girl’s ‘bestie’ was and caring even less, I swiped a towel from the stove and handed her the material.

“You may wanna lay off the bottle.”

She did a weird hiccup laugh thing and stumbled toward me. The odor she gave off made me nauseous—a cheap perfume, beer, and sweat.

“I-I-I kn…know you,” she repeated, nearly incoherent at this point. “You’re that h—”

Her body fell into my arms, my reflexes keeping her face from kissing the damn side of the bar. I sighed and hefted the dumb drunk over my shoulder. A few partygoers saw me unlocking the bedroom door and began hooting and hollering their praise.