Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
TEDDIE
"Are you going to respond to them?" Lyra swung her bag onto her back.
I did the same with mine, and closed the door behind us before we headed out. Her to work, me to college. I'd taken the rest of the school year off from substitute work to finish my degree, putting in a few hours at Loams for extra money.
Money that was going to run out fast if I wasn't careful.
"I haven't decided yet," I said slowly. "I don't know who this person is. If they’re going to get pushy, I should block them." That was a given. I already had a social media block list thousands of names long. Most of them bots.
"Why haven't you blocked them already?" She glanced over at me as we walked down the stairs.
"I don't know," I admitted. "They said they want to save the bar. What if they actually do?" I'd be crazy if I turned down legitimate help. Whatever they had to offer, it could be exactly what my dads needed. It also might not, but would it hurt to hear them out?
"What if they're a psychopathic serial killer?" Lyra countered. "They could be trying to get you alone. They might try to meet you on some remote beach, strangle you, and bury you in the sand." She curled the fingers of her spare hand, miming wrapping them around someone's neck.
"I'm not that naive," I said, giving her a look as if I was more offended than I actually was.
"If I was going to meet this person, it'd be in a public place, surrounded by people.
" They wouldn't be able to try anything without someone stopping, or at least filming it. Either way, there'd be witnesses.
"Besides, anything buried in the sand wouldn't stay buried for long. Any serial killer with a lick of sense would know that.” It might not act as a deterrent, but if they were going to all this trouble, it wasn't a spur of the moment thing.
People who planned murders ahead of time didn't make mistakes like that. Did they?
“They might be harmless," she said, giving me a skeptical look. Clearly, she didn't think 'harmless' was the right word for someone who kept messaging me.
“They're probably an eighty year-old woman with too much money she wants to spread around," I said. "Hel might be short for Helen or Helga, or something like that."
"I feel like Helen or Helga would send you something more than, 'We need to talk,'" Lyra said. "Wouldn't they elaborate instead of leaving you guessing?"
"Maybe her computer skills aren't that good," I suggested.
Would an eighty year-old woman who wasn't good with technology have 6913 in her username? If she did, I wanted to meet her, but I suspected I was clutching at a whole bunch of straws here.
"Maybe you're hoping he's that guy from last night." Lyra gave me a sly look. Her sapphire blue eyes shone with suppressed laughter at my expense.
I started to flip her off, but then I stared at her for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that," I admitted. I hadn't put Blondie out of my mind entirely, but I'd spent more time thinking about the message than I had about our quick, anonymous cockblock.
"What are the chances I'd meet the same guy who wants to help me?
" I asked. The question was mostly rhetorical.
Stranger things have happened in this world after all.
It seemed unlikely though, given he was more interested in helping himself.
Would I accept money from him? That was a question I probably wouldn't have to answer.
"Never zero." She pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs and held it for me to step out past her. "Saltgrave Cove isn't that big.”
"No, it's not, but didn't we agree they were tourists down for a night out?" I pulled out my keys and phone from the front of my bag. The message was still on my screen, unanswered.
I followed Lyra over to the bike rack next to the parking lot. Her bright pink bike was chained up on the end, waiting for her.
"If you think they're harmless, maybe you should respond to them.
" Lyra picked up her bike helmet from the bike seat and jammed it onto her head.
Unless she was using a ride share, she rode her bike everywhere.
I should do the same, but I took my chances with my ancient rust bucket of a car instead.
"I might respond after class," I said. I shoved my phone into my back pocket. “They've waited this long. They can wait a few more hours."
“So, you've decided to respond?" She did up the chin strap of her helmet and adjusted it.
"I haven't decided anything yet," I said. "We should get out of here." I stepped over to my car and opened the door.
"Yeah, later." She swung her leg over her bike, positioned her feet on the pedals and sped away, her red hair flying out behind her.
I half-listened to my professor talking about our upcoming assessment. Something about an open book exam, which would make up thirty percent of our final grade. Nothing I couldn't handle. My thesis would make up the other seventy percent.
The rest of my mind was on my phone and the message sitting there. Lyra was right, at some point I had decided I’d respond, but what would I say?
‘Hey, sure. Why don't you come on over to my place, person I don't know?’
There was a big difference between planning on fucking a total stranger in a parking lot and inviting one to my apartment. The apartment I shared with my best friend.
I didn't want to put myself in danger, but I wanted to put her in danger even less. She didn't deserve to have anything bad happen to her because of my stupid life choices.
As everyone filed out of the room and headed to lunch, I stayed in my seat, pulled out my phone, and started to compose a response.
You wanted to help save my fathers’ bar?
My finger hovered over the screen for a moment before I pressed send.
I was about to put my phone away when an answer came.
Yes, I can help. I have a proposal for you
That was followed a few seconds later by another.
7:00 p.m. tonight
I frowned, wondering what he was referring to, when a Zoom link popped up in the message window.
I stared at the phone for a few moments longer, waiting to see if they'd say something else. When they didn't, I grabbed my bag, swung it over my shoulder, and headed out for lunch. My mind was tumbling with conflicting thoughts.
I supposed a Zoom meeting was harmless, especially if I could disguise where I lived.
That was easy enough. This meeting would be low-stakes for both of us.
There was no reason for them to trust me either.
They didn't know if I was a psychopath who might strangle them on a remote beach before burying them under the sand. Or in the dumpster behind Loams.
I wouldn't, for the record. Also, from what I gather, throwing people in dumpsters isn’t a very effective disposal method for a murdered corpse. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but I like my true crime shows as much as the next person.
Lyra and I have true crime nights over a bottle of wine and a bag of chips. Those are usually interspersed with cooking shows like The Great British Bake Off, which we watch for shits and giggles, not inspiration.
Also, we don't watch true crime shows for inspiration.
I responded to his last message with one of my own.
Okay
I didn't need to elaborate on that.
I stepped out of the lecture hall and almost ran into a guy who was walking with a book in front of his face. Strap over his shoulder, a laptop bag swung against gray cotton cargo pants that hung low on his hips.
"Shit." He stopped and quickly lowered his book. A romance novel. I recognized the author. Her books about hot, possessive hockey players were some of my favorites.
"Sorry," I said quickly.
"Yeah, helps to look where you're going," he said, curling his lip at me. His blue-green eyes were full of contempt.
I was about to walk away, but stopped and frowned. Where did he get off saying that to me?
"What? You were the one who wasn't looking where you were going." I gestured toward his book.
"I was engaged," he said as if that explained everything. He stepped closer to me and dropped his voice. Heat radiated off his body as he spoke. My heart rate spiked to levels that probably weren't healthy.
"The female main character was about to have her brains fucked out by the six-foot-four hockey player with the enormous cock,” he whispered, as if that knowledge was for my ears only. Like we were bonding over a secret.
In spite of myself, I swallowed hard. "Good for her.” My traitorous voice squeaked involuntarily.
He smiled slowly. A dimple popped in his cheek, visible under a carefully manicured layer of stubble. A piercing glinted in his lower lip.
"It's definitely good for her. Isn't that every woman's fantasy? To be fucked boneless by a guy with a massive boner?"
"Sometimes it's our reality," I said without thinking.
Do not look at his groin, I told myself. Do not look at his… Oh, no, you're looking.
The front of his pants suggested he fit that description himself. Even lying flaccid under the fabric, he was big. As big as Blondie, maybe bigger. How would it feel to wrap my…
"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," he drawled.
My face hot, I looked back up. Was I that obvious?
Yes, yes I was. Ugh, being cock blocked the other night was messing with my common sense.
I should not be ogling this asshole. He was smug as fuck, amused by my awkwardness.
No way was he bothered by my staring at his groin.
If anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention.
"I'm probably keeping you from your next class.” I stepped sideways to walk around him.
He snorted. "I don't go to this shithole. I'm here working on the security systems."
I was about to defend Saltgrave College, but then I caught the expression on his face. He was trying to get a rise out of me. Fuck that. I wasn't taking any more bait from the prick.
"I won't keep you then," I said. I straightened my back and walked away, feeling his eyes boring into me until I ducked through a doorway and into the restroom.
"What the hell?" I whispered to myself. An attractive guy talks to you and you get all hot and bothered? What’s wrong with you? Since when do you have a hair trigger clit? And for someone like him? Smug son of a…
He should have been looking where he was going. Who walks around with a book in front of their face? That guy, obviously. Asshole.
For a moment, I wondered if there was any chance he was Hel6913. He could be… What? Following me around and trying to find out what I was really like?
I dismissed the idea. It couldn't be him. First of all, guys like him didn't help anyone but themselves. He probably figured if he got me going, I'd drop to my knees in front of him and thank him for coming down my throat.
Second, why would someone like him stalk someone like me?
I was just Teddie Ward, kindergarten teacher and postgrad student.
I wasn't famous or even infamous. No, he was just a random guy I happened to run into, that was all.
A random hot guy who set my blood on fire.
The worst part? He knew it. My clit needed to learn to be more discerning.
I shook my head at my refletion in the mirror before pulling my hair out of my ponytail and trying to tidy it. Taming my wild curls was an impossible task, but I tried anyway.
No doubt he'd find someone else to suck his cock. I bet he was the kind of guy who tried to suck it himself.
That thought made me smile, taking the edge off my irritation.
Except now I was imagining him lying on a bed, his body folded in on itself like a contortionist. Mouth wrapped around his…
This line of thought was making me ridiculously aroused.
This wasn't the time or the place, but after that encounter, I needed to take the edge off.
I stepped over to the door, turned the lock, and lowered my bag to the floor. Undoing the front of my jeans, I slipped my hand inside, and under the waistband of my panties. I stroked my pussy with a couple of fingers, already so damn wet.
I closed my eyes and pictured the asshole bookworm on his knees in front of me, his tongue teasing my clit instead of my fingers. I worked myself slowly, rubbing and stroking, biting my lip to hold back my moans.
I pictured myself lying on my bed, him over me, kneeling between my thighs, pressing his massive cock into me. Sliding in all the way to his balls. Filling me so much it almost hurt.
Fuck, I was so close already. How could a total stranger make me feel so damn turned on? I'd bet anything he'd laugh his ass off if he knew. His ego would get even more inflated. Jerk.
I rubbed a little harder, driving myself quicker and quicker, bucking my hips against my hand before I came. An orgasm washed over me hot and hard, swamping me with bliss. Moistening my fingers even further before I came back down to Earth.
My reflexion now showed my red cheeks, my lips parted as I panted.
I took a couple of deep breaths in, before pulling my hand out of my panties, doing up my jeans, and washing my hands.
I waited a couple of minutes for the color to fade from my face before I unlocked the restroom and stepped back outside, heading off to the cafeteria for a quick lunch.
While I ate, I tried to ignore the feeling he'd watched me come out of the restroom and knew what I did in there.