Chapter 10
Star
I ask to remove his mask, but he doesn’t respond.
He’s breathing heavier, and the mask is amplifying the sound.
I imagine the heavy breathing of a prank call, the kind a victim hears right before the murderer jumps out of the closet and attacks them.
This is creepy, but it’s kind of hot too.
It’s horrible to think this way, but maybe I only believe that because society places such a stigma on kinks that aren’t vanilla.
People shame each other for what turns them on, and I, for one, don’t support it.
Where I land with my opinion might be because I fall on the side of being kink shamed and not the one pointing the accusatory finger.
No matter what my take on this situation is, whether it is hot and creepy or normal behavior, if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m out.
He can have his reasons for leaving the mask glued to his face, just like I can choose to leave or stay.
I always thought I wanted a masked man to devour me, but having it play out in real life is somehow less appealing.
This might be a problem with me and not the man.
Neither of us signed a binding contract with explicit details outlining a timeline for tonight’s events, and the duration of how long he wore or removed the mask was never set. Yep. It’s me. I’m the problem.
I consume books where the villain is depicted as the anti-hero.
My current obsession is masked men. I’ve read eight this month already, and October isn’t over yet.
There are still days remaining until November first arrives.
This is my life, though. A lot of times, the stories we read give us unrealistic expectations, and we set ourselves up to fail by believing the men in our lives will act like the ones from our books.
News flash. They don’t. At least not often.
My long-term future wasn’t on my mind when I made the choice to come out here and let the door close behind me.
I wanted to chase a dream and maybe prove to myself that life could be easy, and I could be one of those carefree people who don’t constantly second-guess every decision.
That just is not who I am, at least not yet, but I’m working on it.
The masked man’s chest rises and falls, and then he hangs his head.
“I don’t know how to be with you,” he admits, and the pain in his voice is unmistakable.
I’m right there with him, because his statement hurts.
What does he even mean by that? I know I have my faults, but I’m not incapable of being with someone…
or at least I didn’t think I was. And just like that, every nasty ounce of the feeling of being unworthy rushes back into my mind. The mood is gone.
I’m not going to stand here and let some guy feel me up and then basically say I’m too broken to fuck.
Not that we were anywhere near having sex, but I have higher self-esteem than that, regardless.
Screw him! I might not feel the greatest about myself right now, but I’ll bounce back. I’m determined.
As fast as I can, I turn away from him, sniffing back the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes.
I will not cry in front of him. I won’t let him see how badly his words hurt me.
I refuse to be that bare in front of someone who can’t face me and return the favor.
It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt or is crying.
Well, both apply to me, so the fun and games are officially over, I guess.
“Astra, wait!” His hand catches my arm as he pleads. My feet still, but out of pure spite, I don’t turn around. I won’t give him the upper hand. Who knew masked men were so difficult to figure out? I, for one, didn’t.
I told myself I didn’t care what name he called me, and I wanted to believe it.
Really, I did. But as it turns out, I must. When I really think about it, I’ve spent far too much time pretending to be something that I’m not to ever be anyone other than me.
“I’m. Not. Astra!” I say each word, putting my entire heart behind every syllable, and meaning it.
If he wants her so much, he needs to go find her and leave me alone.
I might take a breather to lick my wounds, but I’ll be fine.
“Look at me.”
“Why should I?”
“Fuck, I don’t know, Star. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did. I don’t even know if you should look at me. But I’m trying to do the right thing.”
My stupid curiosity gets the better of me, and I face him. “How do you know my name?” I question him, mostly because I’m too nervous to keep my mouth closed, but also, I would really like to know.
“Because you know me,” he explains, kneeling in front of me.
It’s so vague and open-ended that he could be anyone.
He grabs my wrists, bringing me closer to his body through the darkness.
A shadow casts off our fingers as he leads them over the mask, and it dulls the green glow of the eyes briefly.
He stops right above the knotted string behind his head.
“Take it off. I want you to.”
My heart thumps with such force that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.
I blow out a long breath, deciding my next move.
I could refuse to do as he asks and count my losses.
But I know myself, I would always wonder whose face lies beneath the mask.
I have to know, then I’ll figure out if I want to stay or not.
Taking my time, I run the tips of my fingers over the contours of the plastic wolf face like I’m etching them to memory.
The majority of the surface is smooth, with a small blemish every now and then.
My nerves are getting the best of me, but I can’t help it.
What if I take his mask off and someone worse than Scott is lurking beneath it? I really didn’t think this through.
Just do it. Quit being a chicken. I give myself a pep talk.
It’s not the best, nor what I need, and it does nothing.
My muscles tense and refuse to move, while my stomach does a weird flip-flop thing every time I think of removing his mask.
You know what? He can keep it on if I have to take it off.
I never dreamed something so insignificant could affect me like this.
I’m being ridiculous. He isn’t telling me to murder someone or make a life-altering decision.
It’s a damned piece of painted plastic, hardly worth all of this worrying.
Logically, I know all of this, and I tell myself different reasons why this shouldn’t intimidate me, but none of them work.
As if he understands I’m unraveling, his fingers weave through mine, and it grounds me.
His touch feels so familiar, but I don’t understand why.
He doesn’t try to move our hands or comment on my pace being slow, and I appreciate it.
Perhaps all of this apprehension comes naturally to me, or it’s from the bad relationship I ended tonight.
“Trust me.”
“I don’t,” I say quickly without thinking, and try to yank my fingers out of his grasp.
A deep chuckle floats out of him and fills the silence of the night, echoing off the building.
It reminds me of something that can be heard in a horror film.
Beads of sweat roll down my temples, and I want to scream.
“Don’t blame ya. I wouldn’t either. But open your eyes anyway.
” His hold tightens on mine. It’s not painful, but it is just enough to keep my hands in his.
“Fine.” I spit out, sounding a bit too much like a three-year-old being forced to do something for my liking.
He squeezes my hands and then releases them. His head tips downward and he reaches for the string, pinching the pieces in between his fingers, waiting for me to take them. I oblige him, needing to put myself out of misery. The suspense is killing me.
“Nevermore?” My voice cracks when the mask is completely off him and in my palms. I’m more than thankful he isn’t someone awful, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t say we know each other.
It’s true we met at his shop, but I know very little about him.
He is the president of something, and I should thank him for pushing me to remember to value myself, but I don’t even know his real name.
Surely his parents didn’t give him the name Nevermore when he was born.
Once again, I have more questions than I have answers, but this time I feel like I have a right to ask them.
He nods, smiling politely, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. After all of the buildup to his reveal, I don’t understand why he isn’t completely satisfied and happy. I did what he asked. I
“What’s with all the secrecy? I didn’t know whether you planned to kill me, or you were a complete stranger,” I fire off my thoughts as they pop into my head, not stopping there.
“And while we’re on the subject, I wouldn’t say we know each other.
We only met once. And another thing, if you remembered my name, why do you keep calling me fucking Astra? ”
He gets to his feet, and his tongue swipes over his lips, wetting them. “I’ll answer everything, I promise, but I want to try something first. If it’s okay with you.” He swallows hard, and then his palms rub the back of his neck.
I don’t want to try something, as he put it.
I want answers. I’m tired of people keeping me in the dark.
I truly mean all of those things, and I’m not dropping them.
“How about no. I don’t know what kind of sick game you are trying to play with me, but it’s answers or I walk.
” I’m pushing my luck with him. He doesn’t owe me anything.
I don’t want to leave, especially without getting some clarity, but I will.