Page 32 of Wicked Little Darling

As Dakota stared down at me, I couldn’t even find any words to argue with him properly because he was so delusional that it would be pointless.

“So you did fucking follow me. Why? Huh? What kind of creepy stalker shit is that? And you’re doing it again!”

His eyes drifted over every inch of my face, like he was trying to find a reason. And while he was looking so intently at me, I let my own gaze move over his scar. Those freckles. Lips that looked soft and were a pale pink.

Those lips moved when he said, “Because you looked lonely.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. And because I wasn’t ready for the sting of the truth, it sank deeper and spread until every part of me ached.

I had no response to that and now that I was hurting, I needed to get away. To go try and pluck the thorns of his words out from my skin.

I turned on my heel and took a path that looked like it wound between two buildings. I had no idea where it would take me, I just wanted to get away from him.

Except I couldn’t.

Dakota trailed behind me down the path like a vulture following a wounded animal. When it suddenly curved left and disappeared into a wooded area, I stopped walking and stared at the darkness lurking between the trees. The sun had almost fully set now, and even though the campus had lights along the pathways, there weren’t any lights in those trees. It wouldn’t be very smart to head into those woods with Dakota on my heels.

The snick of a lighter pulled my attention away from the woods and back to Dakota, who had a cigarette between his lips. The flame from the gold Zippo in his hands lit up his face, flickering over his scar and making his freckles more pronounced. When the cigarette was lit, he flicked his hand and the Zippo snapped shut, and he slid it into his pocket as he took a drag.

“That’s a shortcut back to our building,” he said, exhaling smoke as he spoke.

Was it? Or was he lying, trying to lure me into the dark so he could…

I shook my head. If he really wanted to hurt me, he could do it anytime when we were alone in our room together.

And he hadn’t. Besides, he didn’t even like the dark.

“Are you afraid? I’ll walk with you.” Smoke poured from his nostrils as he watched me with those deep brown eyes.

I thought what bothered me most was that I couldn’t get a read on him. Every time he spoke, he either sounded entirely indifferent or deeply intrigued.

He’d say things to purposely rile me up, and then say something else that was so genuine, like it was an honest, unfiltered thought that had entered his mind and then slipped past his lips not a moment later.

Nothing about him made sense—he was chaotic and confusing. What had he done in the past that made his dad havesome nobody scholarship student spy on him? The more time I spent with him, the less I wanted to know.

“No,” I said, turning and leaving him behind me, heading into the dark woods alone.

He didn’t follow.

Three days later,I hadn’t seen very much of Dakota and was slowly getting acclimated to my new life.

I spent most of the free time I had in the library and the practice rooms. Ashbrook had soundproof studio booths that the musicians could sign up to rent out for an hour at a time, and I’d already done that a few times this week just to practice and chip away some of the rust. Playing again came easily, and a lot of it was muscle memory, but the psychological aspect of it—the lack of emotional drive—was a more difficult barrier to get over.

I was tired, too. Today had been long and seemingly endless, and all I wanted was to wash up and crawl into bed.

Luckily, when I got back to my room, Dakota wasn’t there. Not yet, at least.

I threw my bag at the foot of my bed and shut the blinds on my side of the room, grabbed clean clothes and a towel, and headed into the bathroom.

I must’ve checked the door at least ten times to make sure it was locked, but I was still uneasy. I’d feel better with three deadbolts and a chain, but I’d have to make do with a paltry push-button lock for now.

I started the shower and stepped under the spray when the water was warm enough. I was halfway through washing my hairwhen the high notes of a violin sounded from just beyond the door.

A cold sensation skittered across my skin, and I stilled.

No.

No.