CHAPTER TWELVE
LILA
I’m curled up in my cozy bed, wrapped in the cream knit blanket my mom made me for college graduation, and it still smells like her: warm vanilla and a hint of her bar soap, clean and familiar.
She’s okay. She’s going to be okay. So, stop worrying tonight. Go to sleep.
But I can’t. As I waste away in my bed, I stare out the wall of windows while the city hums beneath the night sky. Planes blink overhead, flying in and out of the local airport, each one carrying people whose stories are still moving forward, while mine feels frozen in time.
I’m twenty-six. And somehow, my personal life feels like it belongs to someone twice my age. Stalled. Stuck. Wasting away in here.
I’m supposed to be resting. After the week I’ve had with Mom’s diagnosis, the fifteen-million-dollar miracle, and the job interview of a lifetime, numbness would make sense.
But I’m not numb. My mind isn’t spiraling over the cancer or how I should be preparing for my meeting on Monday. It’s locked on him.
Yet, I don’t even know which one of them I’m fixated on. But there’s a fire beneath my skin, molten and alive, pulsing and burning for more. Something in me has awakened. Something I can’t quiet or name. A need that coils deep. Maybe for someone. Maybe just… a touch.
I pull my knees to my chest, fingers gliding over the satin of my pink tank top.
The soft fabric is a poor substitute for the touch I crave, but it will have to do for now.
My arms tighten around myself as I rest my head against my knees, trying to hold it all in.
Trying to hold her in. My reckless, untamed alter ego, the one dying to get out.
I want strong hands trailing the curves of my body. Warm breath skating across my skin. A kiss.
Yes… a kiss.
God, I haven’t been kissed in years. And lately, I feel like I’ve aged a decade, like I’ve forgotten how to flirt, how to be wanted. How to want.
I really am lacking. I feel old. Pathetic.
Lonely. Like the world moved on without me, and I forgot how to catch up.
How to date. How to even talk to people anymore.
Maybe I should try a dating app. I do want to get married someday.
But how does someone like me get there… when I don’t even know how to start?
The city lights blur through the glass, and my mind drifts back to the party, to the forbidden bedroom where the lights flickered like this.
The Phantom.
The king of the room where she knelt before him, taking him into her mouth inch by inch.
Where everything in me shifted. The same skylight where moonlight poured over him, casting him like the star of the show.
Then he leaned back, eyes closed in ecstasy, muscles flexing as he gripped the back of her head, guiding her rhythm.
God, the way his chest rose and fell. The ink stretched across his sweat-coated skin. And the way he watched me. Watched me touching myself from across the room.
Damn it, Lila. He’s not real. It was the panic attack. A dream. A hallucination. Why do I keep thinking about him? Is it grief? The stress with Mom? Is it my anxiety unraveling? Or… Is it because I really want him to be real? No, that can’t be it.
But the ache between my legs says otherwise. I glance around the room like someone might be watching.
Ridiculous.
I roll my eyes and let out the breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding since he slipped into my thoughts.
“Okay, Lila,” I whisper, barely audible. “This is the only way to get relief…” I say it quietly, trying to make myself feel less crazy, less alone with the need simmering under my skin.
I slip a hand beneath the blanket, my fingertips gliding down the length of my bare skin, slow and tentative, until they reach my stomach. My knuckles graze the fabric as I lift the waistband and slide inside. Warmth greets me. The slick heat pulses between my thighs.
“Oh…” It feels… good. I haven’t touched myself since the night I lost my virginity…
and didn’t cum. So I had to finish the job myself.
Back then, I was innocent and knew I needed to fix the way I felt.
Tonight, it’s about something else entirely.
I thought I just needed a release, but this feels deeper.
Like a connection. To him. The imaginary man in my head.
I’m really losing it.
A soft breath escapes as I find the delicate bundle of nerves, already aching for more.
His eyes flash behind my lids. Those light blue gemstones, aching and unblinking, burning into my soul like they’ve always belonged there, like they’ve claimed me long before I ever saw them.
What would it feel like if he actually touched me?
A moan curls in my throat. “Mmm.”
RING. RING. RING.
I freeze, my hand still, hoping the annoying sound will stop. Then it does. Thank God. I continue circling my clit, the pressure building...
RING. RING. RING.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I groan, blindly reaching for my phone on the nightstand. “Dammit, Aster!” I answer with a growl.
“Woahhhh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed! What the hell is wrong with you?” Aster’s voice slices through the line, sharp, smug, and wildly amused, since I never get flustered with her.
“If you must know,” I huff, “you just ruined my orgasm, and I was so close.”
A beat.
“Who are you and what have you done to my best friend! First the wet dream, now this? That party really turned you out. You horny little slut.” Her voice is half scandalized, half proud.
I laugh despite myself. “Maybe I’m finally taking your advice. But I know you didn’t call just to kill my vibe… what’s up?”
“Well, actually… You never told me if you wanted to go to the sex club with me tonight. And judging by what I just interrupted, it might be in your best interest.”
I bolt upright. “Oh no. No, no, no. The last time I went anywhere with you, I ended up watching a stranger get sucked off, got chased through a haunted maze by some red-masked monster who might be my future boss, and also the guy I grinded on during a dance. And now I’m fantasizing about someone who doesn’t even exist. So… no. Hard pass.”
“Aww, come on, Lila,” she whines. “Don’t be a party pooper. It’ll be fun. No haunted gardens, I swear. Just drinks, music, and hot people doing hot people things. And hey, maybe you’ll finally get off tonight. There’s plenty of boy toys to play with.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Aster, how do you always manage to drag me into this shit?”
“Hey, I can’t help that chaos finds me, and we are a package deal! Lila, just think of it as a celebration. You survived this week. You earned it.”
God help me… I’m considering it. “If Idogo,” I say slowly, “what do I even wear? I’ve never been to a place like this.”
“You know that bag of clothes I gave you? There’s an outfit in there that’s perfect for tonight. The black lace Dior two-piece. Wear it with your strappy black heels, hair down, soft curls. You’ll look incredible . ”
“But—”
“No buts! I just texted you the address. Be there by eleven. A few people are meeting us.”
I glance at the clock. 9:30 p.m.
“Aster!”
“Lila!” she mocks in return.
Guess I’d better drag my ass out of bed to shower and shave, since there’s a chance I might get lucky tonight.
“Okay, fine. You win. I’ll see you soon. Kisses.”
She makes an obnoxiously loud smooching sound and hangs up.
I lie there, staring at the crack in the ceiling, tracing it like a roadmap to nowhere. Just like my romantic life. One dead end after another.
The buzz still hums beneath my skin, a quiet aftershock.
My thighs ache. My chest rises and falls too fast. I’m chasing something I don’t understand.
Is it arousal? The need to feel wanted? The need to see them behind my eyelids, the three who flipped my boring world upside down?
Maybe tonight I’ll finally stop thinking about them.
And tonight, I’m done pretending. I want someone to wreck me. Wreck me in ways I’ve only dared to dream about.
I swing my legs out of bed and walk to the closet, searching for the clothes Aster gave me last week.
When she hands over outfits, you’d expect a trash bag full of everyday hand-me-downs like a normal person.
But of course not. Aster folds designer couture into oversized Louis Vuitton, Dior, and Gucci shopping bags like she’s running a luxury boutique.
I dig through the nearest one and find the outfit instantly. I knew exactly which one she meant, mainly because when I first saw it, I thought, Where the hell would I even wear this… I guess you found a place.
I hold up the top and admire its beauty. It looks like confidence stitched into fabric. Stunning. Fearless. Everything I’m still trying to find in myself.
I peel off my oversized T-shirt and toss it aside. The hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet, smooth and grounding, reminding me that I really am doing this. I pace the room, heart thudding, adrenaline kicking in as I try to get ready. Fast but careful. Because tonight might actually matter.
One thing is clear. The maze was the spark that lit the fuse.
The moment everything inside me shifted.
The night I realized I craved more, emotionally and physically.
And tonight feels like the invitation. Like a whisper daring me to take the next step.
But just as I begin to lean into it, a memory surfaces.
I was eight the first time I almost drowned. Slipped beneath the surface of the community pool, lungs screaming, arms flailing. After they pulled me out, I swore I’d never go near water again. But Mom... she wouldn’t let fear win.
“Walk straight into the fire, Lila,” she’d said gently. “That’s how you take its power away.”
So I did. She signed me up for swimming lessons even though I was petrified. I learned to float. To swim. To trust the water again. And eventually, I learned to love it.
Now I swim laps when I’m stressed, and honestly, after the week I’ve had, I should probably be doing that right now.
Water is where I think. Where I reset, where I find balance.
And maybe this is just like that. Only now it’s not the water calling me.
It’s them. The masked men. The ones who drown me with their presence.
The ones who saw the fire in me before I ever dared to touch it.
Tonight isn’t about danger. It’s about reclaiming the fear of rejection.
The fear of the unknown. The heat that’s been building in my core.
It’s about proving I can want more and survive it.
I deserve more. I deserve a love that consumes me.