13. Jax #2
When everything feels nice and loose, I drop my arms and scrub my hand through my hair so I can flip the long strands over to the side.
Fuck it. I’m going to drive myself crazy if I stay in this room much longer. I need to move and stretch my legs, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I also need to see Myles.
I’ll head over to Boone House, see what he’s up to, then go for a walk or go to the cliffs. Hopefully that will help me calm the fuck down and stop obsessing about a guy who’s supposed to mean nothing to me.
I’m just grabbing my sweater when my phone pings with a notification.
The alert is distinct, and I’m way too eager as I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the app that controls the cameras in Myles’s room.
Both of the cameras I planted have motion sensors in them, and I turned them on after he covered the feeds so I’d know when he uncovers them.
The camera in his statue isn’t facing the wall anymore, and I watch intently as he carries it over to his bed and sits on the edge, holding it so the camera is facing him.
“Hello?” he asks, his expression a mix of shyness and apprehension that tickles something deep in my chest. “Can you hear me through this?”
Even though I know it’s a bad idea, I tap the panic button on the screen.
It sounds dramatic, but all the button does is cause a little flash of red light to appear in a tiny hole in the bottom corner of the camera shell.
It’s there to communicate when speaking would be too dangerous or isn’t feasible, but it works the same when nothing’s wrong.
“Was that you?” he asks, his face lighting up before settling back into one of caution.
I tap the button again.
“Can you talk through it?” he asks tentatively. “I saw the specs, and there’s a two-way microphone in this model.” He bites his lip. “I think I figured out the clue with the clock, but I’m not sure.”
I’m already crossing the room to sit at my desk before he finishes his sentence. It takes a few seconds to get the program running and get my headphones on, then I turn on the outgoing microphone.
“What did you figure out?” I ask.
He gasps, his eyes lighting up in a way that can’t be faked. “Is that you?” he asks breathlessly.
“It’s me.” I expand the window so the camera feed covers my entire screen and lean back in my chair.
“I didn’t think you’d answer.” He bites his lip again. “Hell, I didn’t even know if you were watching and thought I was talking into the ether.”
“I was watching.” I pause, not because I don’t have more to say, but because I have to be careful with what I say. “You figured out the clock hands?”
“Yeah.” He puts the statue on his bedside table and lays down so he’s facing it. “Well, I’m pretty sure I did.”
Something about the way he curls up and puts his hands under his head, like kids do when they’re pretending to sleep, is weirdly adorable.
“At first I thought it was a date, like April twenty-second, but it’s a time, right? Four-twenty-two was the start of sunset the day we played hide and seek.” He bites his lip nervously. “Was that the clue? Did I get it?”
“That was the clue.”
He beams a big smile at the camera, then lets out a loud, half-crazed laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Not quite,” I tell him before I can stop myself. “But you can call me that if you want.”
He laughs again. “This is so insane. I’m literally talking to my stalker through the camera you planted in my room. You can see and hear me, but I can only hear you.” He shakes his head, a dumbfounded look on his face. “How is this my life?”
“You’re the one who got on my radar,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for what you did.”
“What did I do?” he asks, his eyes wide with innocence.
“If you were me, would you tell you?” I ask.
He makes an unimpressed face. “No. But for the sake of this conversation, I’m going to lie and say yes. I would totally tell you everything if our roles were reversed.”
I can’t stop the low chuckle that escapes my lips. “You’re taking things pretty well for someone who’s speaking to their stalker through the camera I planted in your room.”
“Yeah, probably.” He rolls one shoulder in a shrug.
“But considering how messed up everything else is, this is one of the least worrisome and weird things in my life right now.” He chews on his lip for a few beats.
“Did the shadow cube mean something more than just a clue to show me where the camera is?”
“What do you think?”
“I think that everything you do has meaning, and you wouldn’t have solved the cube if you weren’t trying to say more than just Look over here, you’re on Candid Camera. ”
I huff out a soft laugh. “So what do you think it means?”
He scrunches his forehead up like he’s thinking hard. “The only thing I can come up with is you were either flexing that you can solve them too, or you did it because you were giving me a hint about the other camera.” He pauses, obviously waiting for my answer.
“You’re partially right,” I tell him after a few beats.
“Which part?”
I don’t answer.
“Right, because why would you tell me when the whole point is for me to figure it out?” He chews on his lip again. “Was it a test? I’m assuming you were telling me about the camera when you moved it, but was solving it a way to see if I could look beyond the obvious?”
“You’re getting warmer.”
“Moving it was the clue for the camera, right?”
“Yes.”
He tries to cover his smile, but I see the corners of his lips tick up. “Was solving it a test?”
“Yes.”
“You were testing if I was a worthy enough opponent to even bother playing these games with?”
“Correct.”
His smile is big and wide, but he does his best to school his features back into a neutral face and hide it.
“And you moved the chess piece today?” he asks tentatively.
“I did.” I pause. “Does that bother you?”
“That you broke into my room while I was at the gym?” He shoots the camera a wry grin. “It definitely should, but for reasons I’m not willing or ready to examine, it doesn’t.”
Silence stretches between us, and I wait to see what he’ll do next.
“Is this the only time you’re going to talk to me through here?” he asks softly.
“Do you want to keep talking to me through here?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “The smart answer would be fuck no.”
“And what’s your answer?”
“Yeah.” He swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the dim light from his bedside lamp. “It’s messed up, but I do.”
“Then no, it won’t be the last time I talk to you through here.”
This is a mistake. I should shut this conversation down and go back to being a silent observer, but maybe I can use this to my advantage and get some of the information I’ve been looking for.
He chews on his lip nervously. “Are you going to answer if I ask you questions?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Do you want to hurt me?” His voice trembles slightly, and his eyes are big and wide and so damn innocent that something inside me twists.
“No,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”
“Why are you watching me?”
I don’t answer. I’m willing to give him some information to keep the conversation going, but I can’t reveal my hand before I know more.
“You said I got on your radar,” he says slowly. “Does that mean you’re not connected to the guys who tried to kill me when I was on my run?”
“I’m not connected to them.”
He blows out a breath. “Do you know why they want to hurt me?”
“No.”
His expression falls. “Oh. I guess that would have been too easy. Are you a student?” he asks.
“Would you answer that if you were me?”
“No.” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “Is this something you do a lot? Watch people?”
“Depends on what you mean by watch.”
He shoots the camera another flat look. “You’re really arguing semantics with the guy you’re stalking?”
“You’re awfully mouthy for someone who’s talking semantics with their stalker.”
The corner of his lips ticks up as he tries to hide his smile. “You don’t sound mad about it.”
“Let’s just say I don’t mind mouthy.” I let my voice drop so there’s a slight rumble to it. “Especially when that mouth is as good at sucking dick as yours.”
He flushes bright pink. “This is so messed up,” he whispers in a breathy voice.
“It is,” I agree.
“But is this something you do a lot?” he asks, his eyes clouding over with something I can’t read. “Stalk people?”
“No.”
“No?” he asks hopefully.
“I observe people when I need to, but you’re the first person who’s ever figured out that they’re being watched. And the only one who’s ever directly communicated with me.”
“So you’ve never done this before?” he asks, fighting back a grin.
“No.”
“I’m assuming you have nothing to do with the Kings?” he asks.
“You assume correctly.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
“A while.”
The corners of his mouth lift in a barely there smile. “Do you like watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like watching me in my window when I…?” His cheeks flush soft pink, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. Based on the slight uptick in his breathing and the way his eyes are shining, I’d say he was aroused.
“Yes, I did.”
“Have you watched me do that when I didn’t know you were watching?” He drags his tongue over his lower lip.
“Yes.” A pause. “Does that bother you?”
He shakes his head, his smile melting into a smirk. “No, even though I know it should.” He pauses. “Did you like watching me those other times?”
“I would have liked it more if you weren’t under the covers when you did it,” I tell him.
He rolls onto his back and rubs his hand over the bulge in his sweats, his eyes on the camera. “Did you like what we did in the woods?”
“Yes.” My voice is deeper now and has a slight rasp to it.
Myles lets out a shuddering sigh. “I did too.” He fixes his gaze on the ceiling.
“Yeah?” I rest my hand on my own cock as it pulses and throbs at the memories of our game of hide and seek.
“Yeah.” His voice is breathless now. “I always thought there was something wrong with me because that kind of stuff turns me on. I mean, I already know I’m ten levels of fucked up, but that kind of cemented that I’m also a pervert with more issues than a lifetime of therapy could ever hope to unravel. ”
“And what’s wrong with being a pervert?”
He huffs out another soft laugh. “Everything. I mean, what kind of person fantasizes about being forced? What does it say about me that playing X-rated hide and seek with a hooded stranger and having him force me ”—he makes little air quotes with his fingers, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling—“to suck his dick was the hottest thing I’ve ever done? ”
“Nothing.”
He rolls his head so he’s looking at the camera again, his expression confused. “Huh?”
“You asked what it says about you, what kind of person it makes you. And it says nothing and means nothing.”
“Really?” He shoots the camera a flat look. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“I can lie and say it makes you a terrible person and you’re fucked up beyond help. Would that make you feel better?”
“No, but…”
“In your fantasies, are you the one being forced?” I ask, not sure why I’m even trying to reassure him in the first place.
“Yeah,” he says slowly.
“You don’t want to hurt anyone. You don’t daydream about forcing other people or wish that these things would happen to people who don’t want them, do you?”
“No.”
“So how does that make you the villain if your fantasies are only about you and what you want done to you?”
“It…doesn’t?” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to process his own epiphany. “This is so fucked up. How did you just unpack years’ worth of trauma in, like, five questions?”
“Because you and I are similar.”
He rakes his teeth over his lower lip in a move that’s way hotter than it should be. “We are?”
“Yes. The only difference between us is that I am a villain.”
He rubs his hand over his cock again. His moan is so soft the camera barely picks it up.
My cock throbs as I watch him give his hard length a squeeze.
“This is so messed up,” he whispers. “All of this is so fucked up, but I don’t even care.”
“You don’t?”
He shakes his head and squeezes his dick again. “Can you hear me when the camera is covered?”
“If I turn the audio on, yes.”
“Do you usually have the audio on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you on campus because of me?” He rolls back over so he’s facing the camera and stares intently at it. “Would you be here right now if I wasn’t?”
“No, I wouldn’t be.”
His smile is soft and shy and makes something in my chest clench in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s not arousal or desire; it’s something so much darker than that.
Something wild and untamed. Something I inherently know I should shove back into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind and ignore.
“That night in the woods…” He draws in a shaky breath. “I really liked that.”
“You can have it any time you want,” I tell him before I can stop myself.
His breathing picks up, and his cheeks and neck flush soft pink.
“If you’re out for a run at sunset, I’m taking that as an invitation that you want it.”
His eyes widen with both excitement and fear. “You are?”
“Yes. But remember what I said. I am a villain. If you start something, be sure you want to finish it because I sure as fuck will.”
For a brief moment, I think he’s going to tell me off or freak out, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirky smile. “Challenge accepted.”