Chapter 3
Iwhirl around to be met with the same sinfully deranged-looking guy from earlier.
He is even more massive up close. Easily six foot six.
Tattoos spiraling down his forearms and onto his hands.
If I were to guess, he has more hidden under his shirt.
His form crowds over me, but I’m glued in place.
My brain tells me to run, but I’m unable to budge an inch.
A lump forms in my throat and alarm bells start going off in my head.
He’s dangerous; a wild, savage beast. Now that he’s closer, his eyes are a hazy gray, almost void of emotion at all.
He looks older than me, maybe in his mid to late twenties, but it’s hard to tell with his smudged skull makeup.
He smells of vanilla, a woody musk, and cheap cigarettes, so why do I find myself leaning closer to revel in it?
I blink several times before realizing I never answered him.
“Pardon me?” I squeak out, craning my neck up to meet his eyes. The guy is so massive; it’s intimidating.
He lets out a dark, sinister laugh that makes my bones chill.
He takes a step forward into my space before leaning down to whisper into my ear.
“Won’t you sing for me?” His voice is thick and gravelly.
His knuckles brush over the bare skin of my stomach for a brief moment, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.
I can’t tell if it’s intentional or accidental.
How does he know I’m studying music? I’ve never seen him around campus before.
He notices my hesitation and lets out a chuckle.
“Name’s Zain.” He takes a step back and cocks his head, like he’s dissecting me.
His muted gray eyes stay trained on me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
His commanding presence has me absolutely frozen in place.
I manage to pull myself back to reality and put my hand out. “I’m Vesper,” I say cheerfully with a practiced smile.
He looks down at my outstretched hand like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. I quickly rein in my hand. My smile falters, and my eyes dart around awkwardly. “So…is this your place?” I ask, hoping to change the atmosphere as I rock back and forth in my boots.
“You like it?” he smooths out. An amused sinister half smile tugged on his lips.
I nod my head quickly. “Oh yeah, it’s lovely.” I smile politely, looking around again just to avoid his burning eyes. Something dark lives within him, and my curiosity is threatening to get the best of me.
He scoffs and shakes his head in a disgusted twist. “You’re a terrible liar, little songbird,” he replies darkly.
“I— No. I—” My voice comes out strangled as I stumble over my words. Maybe I can salvage this instead of looking like a bumbling idiot.
“This place is a fucking shithole,” he scoffs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his baggy pants.
My eyes are drawn to his veiny forearms when he taps it against his palm.
He must mistake my staring for dry begging.
One of his cigarettes pokes out of the pack, and he holds it out like an offering. I shake my head quickly.
“Right. Girls like you don’t smoke,” he sneers. His words bring me down a notch. Girls like me?
Girls…like…me.
Good girls…
You don’t belong here, Vesper.
“Such a shame,” he says mockingly, pulling me back in. His cigarette hangs from his lips. He lights it, relishing in the buzz. His eyelids flutter closed for a brief moment. The smoke clouds the air in front of us, hazing my view of his face.
His words course through my mind as I try to decipher his meaning. Bravely, I raise my chin to meet his heavy-lidded, dead eyes that now stare back at me.
“What’s a shame?” I ask curiously.
He takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in my face, making me cough and my eyes water.
He tilts his head a fraction, and the corner of his lip upturns into a smirk—or maybe a scowl?
From what I can tell, his face has sharp edges, and his thick brows make him look unapproachable.
It’s hard to tell with all that charcoal makeup. One thing is certain. He’s big.
He remains silent, refusing to elaborate.
Before I can press further, Clara stumbles down the stairs.
She molds herself beside me, knocking me into Zain.
I freeze when our bodies collide, and he reaches out to right me.
Clara wraps her arm around my elbow, clinging to me like her lifeline.
Her hair is a tussled mess, and her perfectly crafted makeup has been washed away by now-dried tears that stick to her blonde hair.
Panic fills my insides. I grab her wrist, forcing her to face me.
This isn’t typical drunk Clara, this is something more.
“Clara, what happened?” Concern flows through my veins.
She lets out a shaky groan and adjusts her bubblegum romper.
“I’m fine,” she says. Her words are slow and drawn out.
She leans into my ear, whispering. At least she thinks she’s whispering.
“I like it rough.” She lets out a giggle as she leans all her weight on me.
Clara’s always been able to make sure she can handle herself. Mostly.
As long as she isn’t having a depression episode.
Whatever that guy gave her was a way higher dose than she’s used to.
My attention turns back to the stranger in front of me.
Zain. He’s still smoking his cigarette, observing me.
The way he does it sends a shiver up my spine.
I should run for the hills. The guy is a walking red flag.
No, a fucking pitch-black flag, but I chalk my shitty intuition up to the college life and limited sleep.
This guy is dangerous…so why can’t I calm my curious mind?
“Need a lift?” he asks with that ominous smirk-scowl as his eyes flicker down to Clara, then back to me. Why is that dark, threatening smile so enticing to me? It coils deep inside me and grabs hold, refusing to let go.
I shake my head and clear my thoughts that he seems to be hazing with his commanding presence.
The last thing I need is this maniac knowing where we live. This was a huge mistake. I’ll have to manage to navigate us back to the dorm by memory. As a vocalist and pianist, you’d think I would be good at memorization, but I’ve always learned best by ear.
“No, thank you. We can manage. We live close,” I say, meeting his piercing gaze once more.
Truthfully, I have no freaking clue how close or far we are from the dorms. Clara sways and only manages to stay upright with her arm latched with mine.
Her long blonde hair is a tangled mess all over my arm.
It’s as if he can see through me. He knows I’m clueless.
I swallow thickly and shoulder past him, brushing my body against his unintentionally.
“Thanks for the party,” I mumble under my breath.
As we leave, “Vore” by Sleep Token starts blaring through the speakers, and this time it’s unmistakable.
His mouth upturns into a fiendish smile.
His muted eyes track me until we are finally out of his line of sight and the door slams closed.
The breeze slaps my face, bringing me back to reality, pulling me from this fever dream.