7. Catherine
Chapter 7
Catherine
He doesn’t allow me to respond or comprehend what is going on before our lips collide. He kisses me with everything in him. He kisses me as if my lips are his only reason to live. There are so many intense emotions in his kiss, but right now, my brain is too jumbled to comprehend anything, let alone complex emotions. There’s so much chemistry between us that I’m afraid the world will implode.
He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I moan into the kiss, relishing the lingering taste of me. That thought ignites something inside of me, and I immediately find myself a hot, impatient mess, craving more. I fist his hood, clumsily, my hands trembling and pulling him closer, trying to break the small amount of space left between us entirely. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and softly bites down, his hands framing my face as he draws back his head, breaking our kiss and taking a few steps away.
“Please,” I beg. I don’t care if I sound desperate. There’s an ache between my legs that needs to be sedated, and I think he might be the only one who can. I blink a few times, trying to focus on his profile, but the small red light illuminating us doesn’t let me really look at him.
“Patience, my shadow.” He says, taking a wider step back, picks up the items on the floor, and walks out of the bathroom. Leaving me confused, pissed off, and aroused at the same time.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fucking fuck.” I exhale a long breath, resting my head back on the mirror. My mind is spinning. Did that actually happen? Did that actually happen? I didn’t imagine it, right? Did a Soul Reaper make me orgasm so hard I saw stars in a freaking bathroom with only his tongue and his fingers? What is my life right now?
A very fucking good one.
I don’t have much experience to compare it to since I lost my virginity to another virgin in a bathroom while camping with my aunt.
The sound of my ringtone brings me back. I reach over to where I left my bag, but my hand finds nothing. My eyebrows bunch together. That’s strange. I don’t remember knocking it down. I slowly shimmy off the sink and onto the floor, having to hold on tight from my still quivering legs. After gaining my footing, I walk over to the light switch, flip it on, and turn back to look for my bag.
I freeze in my tracks when I only see my phone. He stole my bag but left my phone. What the fuck? What is he going to possibly do with the ugly black dress?
“Shit.” My heart sinks. I’m supposed to be meeting Matt and his parents. I grab my phone hastily and look through the messages. Some are from the girls asking me if I was okay, and the other is from Matt asking me where the hell I am. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I look at the time it’s six thirty-seven. I’m late. My phone rings in my hand. It’s Matt.
“Hello,” I answer hesitantly, readying myself for the tongue-lashing.
“Where the fuck are you?” He asks in a hush tone as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well and have been stuck in the bathroom.” I lie through my teeth with the first thought I can think of.
“You’re going to pay for making me look foolish, Catherine.” I should be afraid of his threat, but the high I’m still feeling doesn’t have room for fear. I’ll deal with the consequences later. They’re inevitable no matter what I do or don’t do. Might as well live a little.
“Where do I meet you?”
“Main entrance.” He snaps and hangs up. I take a moment to relax my nerves, calm my pulsing heart, and stop my raging thoughts. I look down to grab my stocking since he destroyed my underwear, but for the third time this night, my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest. He took my clothes, not just my bag. The only item he left me is my shoes.
Oh, my dear god. The realization of that thought feels like someone is dumping a bucket of freezing water over me. He took my clothes. I'm not sure if I should be mad or laugh about it. All I have to cover my private area is a short shirt that, if I move the wrong way or a gust of wind hits it I’ll be giving a free show to everyone. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Trying to make myself look somewhat presentable, I walk back to the sink and splash some water on my face, cleaning the smudge eyeliner from under my eyes with a dry paper. I leave with one last look in the mirror, knowing there’s nothing else I can do.
As I’m walking towards the main entrance, I take a moment to text my friends, telling them the same lie I told Matt. It’s not like I can actually tell them what really kept me occupied, even though, knowing them, they would be over the moon if I told them - even pretty jealous.
When my phone beeps, I expect it to be a message from the girls, but it’s from a new unknown number. My stomach does a summersault. How did he get my number? I didn’t give it to him and he never got the chance to call himself from my phone. A slow smile builds on my face. If he has had it for years he doesn’t have the need to ask me.
Unknown: Enjoying the breeze?
Me: Why did you have to take my clothes? You’re a horrible person for doing that.
Unknown: Horrible you say? Mhm. Interesting.
Me: Yes, you’re horrible.
Me: How is that interesting?
Unknown: A horrible man wouldn’t make you orgasm so hard you saw stars.
Me: You think very highly of yourself. You must have a pretty big head under that costume.
Unknown: Want to find out?
The sound of music up ahead of me forces me to look up. It’s a parade. I’m stuck on this side until it’s done. Walking a few inches to my left, I rest my back on a brick wall and stare at the message, thumbs hovering over the screen.
Goosebumps and my heart accelerating are the only indicators of his presence. His hand rests on the wall on top of my head, his body leaning forward. He places his wand under my chin and raises my head. My heart accelerates. As our eyes connect, hauntingly beautiful onyx eyes pierce through me. I exhale a sharp breath over the intensity of his gaze. I instinctively lean forward as if his body was a magnet pulling me in.
“Catherine.” Matt's voice calls over the noise of the crowd and parade. I turn my face to see him storming over here, shoulders tight, face scrunched in a scowl. If we were in a cartoon, smoke would be expelling from his ear with how angry he seems. When I bring my face forward again, the Soul Reaper is gone. My stomach sinks as the disappointment over him leaving washes over me.
“Why aren’t you wearing the dress?” Matt asks, well, more like demands when he manages to get near me, grabbing my arm and trying to get my attention.
“Someone stole my bag.” That’s technically not a lie.
“Did they steal your tights too?” His eyebrows bunch together, giving me a you’re full of shit look.
“Yes, I spilled a drink on myself, so I had to take it off and put it in my bag,” I say nonchalantly. Not caring about anything at the moment. I’m too busy looking around trying to see if I see him.
He sighs in frustration, and I ready myself for his backlash, but nothing comes.
“Is this the Catherine I’ve heard so much about?” A blonde middle-aged woman stands in front of us. The scrutiny in her gaze is about the only clear read I can get from her, as the rest of her face has been poorly frozen in place by filler. The contrast between her emotive eyes and stuck face is eerie and unsettling.
Matt wraps his arm around my waist, digging his fingers into my skin. I bite down on my cheek to stop myself from making any noise and breathe through the pain. That is his way of warning me to behave myself. I inch away, and he relents the pressure on my skin but does not let go.
I extend my hand to shake hers, but she doesn’t return the action. I awkwardly bring it back down to my side. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“It’s lovely to meet you too.” The insincerity and disgust in her tone threaten to knock me backward. This family is all the same - rude, condescending, snobs. I can’t wait to get rid of any ties with them. If my stepmother wants to continue the facade when I leave them, let her. I’ll be far, far, far away from all her scheming.
She turns her head to her son. “We’re late. Let’s continue the introduction later.” She turns around and walks away with the confidence of someone who knows they don’t have to wait for a response. Now I know where Matt gets it from.
“Let’s go.” He tugs me forward, and I don’t have a choice but to follow.
“Where are we going?”
“Must she fucking know everything?” He mutters under his breath. “We’re going to see a
new haunted house that they’re planning to open next year. They weren’t able to open it to the public this year because my father was very busy and did not have the time to come here and approve it.” He finally answers me exasperated as if I'm constantly asking him questions.
He takes me down some stairs and walks through an underground passageway for five minutes until we reach black double doors that lead us right in front of a haunted house. We are greeted by a man whose name tag identifies him as Tom, the park manager. He is standing beside Jeremy, Matt's father, who scowls at us as we approach.
Oh, if looks could kill.
Tom opens a back fence and leads us inside.
“Are the scare actors ready for us?” Matt's father asks Tom while typing a message. His
multitasking skills must be on point.
“Yes, sir. You will get the full experience,” Tom replies, fear in his tone.
“Great. Let’s move this along. I have places to be.” The self-importance this man tries to
give himself is pathetic.
Tom leads us to the front door and opens it. “After you.” He says, and in one line, starting
with Matt’s father, they start making their way inside. I stay outside hesitantly letting Tom go in before me. I’m not a big fan of jump scares and I have no idea what’s going to be waiting for me inside the house. My palms start to get sweaty. My heart starts to beat faster. I take a step back. They won’t miss me. I’m sure they won’t even notice I’m not behind them. I’ll just wait here. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I grab it, a huge smile forming on my face when I see it’s him.
Unknown: You hide, I seek?