Page 19 of Wicked Little Darling

“That’s really close. Did you not like it or something?”

I bit down on my bottom lip, then took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. “No, I didn’t like it.”

“Mm. What year are you? I’m a junior.”

“Senior.” I was hoping my one-word answer would give him a hint.

Thankfully, his interrogation stopped and he pushed off the door and made his way back to his bed. I glanced up as he pulled his shirt on, then lowered my eyes when he turned around to face me.

“You wanna grab some food with me?”

I looked up at Dakota, then at the neatly made bed behind him, the books he had perfectly lined up on his desk, at the neatness of his side of the room compared to my side. I hadn’tput anything away yet, and one of my bags was unzipped, clothes popping out of the opening like something had exploded inside. I had three textbooks scattered on my bed, and my covers were already messed up. I felt self-conscious as I compared our sides, then brushed it away, irritated with myself.

Except I couldn’t brush away this gnawing discomfort that pricked along my skin beneath the irritation, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of Dakota or something else entirely.

“No, I’m good,” I said. Then quickly—begrudgingly—added, “Thank you, though.”

Dakota smirked and said, “So polite now.”

I ignored him.

He left the room, and I let out a long, weary breath.

When I knew he wasn’t coming right back, I pulled out my old notebook and flipped through the pages until the aging photo fell out. I carefully picked it up and stared at the memory. It all just felt like a dream I’d once had now.

I kissed the picture and tucked it back into the notebook, then slid it under my pillow.

I studied my textbooks until my eyes refused to stay open, then shut off my light, got under the covers, and went to sleep, hoping Dakota would never return.

Spiders were crawlingin my hair. Spiders with thick, long legs that dragged through the unkempt strands, snagging on knots and freeing them. I swatted at them, but they wouldn’t go away.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

That rough, raspy voice had me cracking my eyes open as a flood of adrenaline started pumping through me. I sat up, banging my face against?—

“Ow, fuck!” Dakota shouted.

Moonlight illuminated the room in an ethereal glow, but there was also a dim artificial light emanating from the end of Dakota’s bed. His face was inches from mine, and he was holding a hand to his cheek.

A thick webbing of confusion blanketed my mind, and I struggled to break through it. Dakota’s eyes were just two black spots glittering in the near-dark, trained on me. I stared into his eyes, and the heat that radiated from his body was distracting.

When he reached out like he was going to touch me, I snapped out of it.

“What are you doing?” I croaked, pushing away from him and shoving my back against the window.

What the hell? Why was he in my bed?

“You were talking in your sleep,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

I was talking in my sleep? Shit, what had I said?

“So I—” I could barely form thoughts, let alone words. “I just?—”

“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. You woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep, I was just trying to calm you down,” he said, finally standing. I realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and what little light there was played over the lines of lean muscle on his chest and stomach.

My eyes kept moving down, and everything in my brain skidded to a halt.

What the fuck was that?