Reid Juliet Notes
Noah’s working at the bakery. Why?
Followed her to the farmer’s market Wednesday.
Changed.
Yellow dress.
She wore it for him.
She knows how to bait.
She positioned herself at the flowers like it was instinct.
But she’s been watching him.
I’ve been watching her.
It was beautiful.
Innocence draped in suggestion.
That mouth. God.
The way she licked that strawberry.
Lewd.
Vitaly didn’t know what to do with it. Blushed like a virgin.
Felt like watching someone offer a wolf to a lamb.
Juliet, Juliet, Juliet.
She’s art.
She’s chaos in perfume and planning.
But she’s not the only one playing.
I’ll match her energy.
Step for step.
She hasn’t seen my gift.
The panties. The note.
Or she has and she’s playing coy.
Her bedroom light was on for three hours last night.
She was in there.
But no frantic texts to her men. No police call. No reaction.
Interesting.
I need to nudge her.
Trigger curiosity.
Maybe bump into her. Let her feel seen.
And then she’ll open the notebook.
And then she’ll understand.
I’m not prey.
I’m the hunter who wants to be caught.
I pull out a burner phone. Text her.
[Screenshot of her at the farmer’s market. Taken from behind. Yellow dress. Sunflower in hand.]
No message.
Just the photo.
Let her wonder.