4. Chapter 4 #2
@yourghostboy: Missed me?
I settle back into the scattered pillows behind my head and try to focus a little on the television in my room. My hands twitch to keep my phone screen alight for when he messages back–if he messages back, but I don't have to get hung up on questioning for long when he replies.
@Cass.cowbells: Who the hell are you?
@yourghostboy: Aw you did. Do you really want to know?
@Cass.cowbells: Yes.
Why were you outside of Grace's window?
It only now occurs to me that he might think I was there to watch Grace, when it's a far cry from the truth. She isn't part of my fantasies and even though she has him for now, I don't want to share for much longer.
@yourghostboy: Where's the fun in that? I think I'll keep you in suspense.
I wasn't there for her.
@Cass.cowbells: Why were you there?
I type out the real reason, humming to myself before I delete my reply and write something else. Our conversation so far is so brief, I want to prolong this because in reality he could just block me at any time.
@yourghostboy: Send me a photo and I’ll tell you.
@Cass.cowbells: *photo attachment*
I snort, because the cheeky shit sends me a photo of his filthy cleats discarded on the grass.
The sun has fallen below our house maybe half an hour ago, so I gather he's had a late training after his last class. I wonder if Grace has a copy of his schedule so I can perhaps steal it, just so I know when he’s free for all the fun I have planned.
That’s what has me in an utter chokehold about him.
Out of the masks, we had fun just chatting over farm animals and castles.
I swear the entire hum of the coffee house had just faded away, the table had left without us and I hadn’t even noticed until Grace's clumsy ass hit the chair.
How in the world can someone forget their hunk of a boyfriend is with them, when he looks like that?
I was drooling so hard I bloody tripped over my own feet and spilled iced fucking coffee down him. Welp.
@yourghostboy: I bet you look so edible in your rugby uniform.
@Cass.cowbells: Freak.
@yourghostboy: Only for you baby.
@Cass.Cowbells: This is getting old fast. Who are you? Why were you at Graces?
@yourghostboy: Why so serious?
@Casscowbells: I fucking swear.
@yourghostboy: Ooooo, do you have a filthy mouth?
@Cass.cowbells: That’s not what I meant! If you even think about hurting Grace I’ll find you.
I’m practically cackling, rolling on my bed because it’s so easy to tease him.
I never saw his fury underneath the mask that night, but I can almost imagine the way his jaw would crush his tension and maybe he’d even flex his veins.
That little slip up I saw may have caught my initial attention, but I want, no, I need to deep dive into his mind.
Cass has never been the quiet mouse he turns into around Grace, he’s holding himself back so much that maybe this entire thing will be good for him.
A little fun is good for everyone right?
@yourghostboy: I’m not interested in Grace. Send me a picture of your mask.
I want to see what colour the neons are.
I sit patiently staring at my screen, but any sign of his reply doesn’t come and I see the little dot in our chat dim.
Well fuck. The disappointment that hits is heavier than I expected.
This entire time the idea that he could block me lingered at the back of my hectically unorganised brain, but he hadn’t.
He’d replied which I took that maybe he liked the messages from his masked stranger.
It didn’t occur to me he also could just stop replying.
Grumbling as I go, I climb off my bed and stretch out my limbs before slipping out of my bedroom.
I can’t hear either of the guys making any noises from their rooms or downstairs, so I must be the only one home.
Great, no one to distract from the piece of plastic in my hand that feels as heavy as a dumbbell right now.
I throw my phone onto the counter as I enter the little kitchen at the back of our student house, heading for the kettle and then to the porcelain sink to fill it up.
The space is incredibly cosy, with its foliage printed tiles, warm wooden counters and white cabinets.
The window overlooking the garden from the sink is a little old, but our landlady added a bunch of safety latches to make sure it wasn’t easy for someone to break.
They probably could just remove the entire frame in one go if they tried, it’s so old but no one had the heart to stop her from installing them.
The entire house screams country cottage vibes actually and I fell so hard for it, I’ve seriously considered asking how much she’d continue to rent the property for once our time at university ended.
I’ve lived here in the city my entire life, so I don’t really have any plans to move.
Mum lives on the outskirts in a quiet area, but she’s so busy now that her only child is fully grown.
I don’t blame her for falling back in love with life, as a single parent she sacrificed so much to raise me.
We’ve added a bunch of our own touches to the house, especially in the kitchen, with hanging plants and cacti nestled in places. We even have a cow pottery biscuit jars! How much more in common could Cass and I have? I’d be his little farm wife—no complaints here.
The kettle rumbles to life and I dig out my favourite mug, with dancing skeletons on and get to work making myself a cup of tea.
If he’s not going to reply I guess I better make more progress on the outline of my book, or I could start the new book I added to my kindle library.
I carefully crafted a seasonal themed reading list for the next couple of months, adding anything either autumn related, paranormal and a couple of spooky romances in there.
Obviously they’re full of spice and there’s definitely a few dark romance novels, but putting together the list felt better than doing my laundry, a task yet to be done.
Yes, I can be a little scatter brained, and I don’t know how to prioritise to save my life, but I’m working on it. I just need to stick to my routines.
Instead of returning upstairs, I take my cup of tea and stretch out on the two seater sofa that we squished into the space under the sloped ceiling in the living room.
Whilst there are other pieces of furniture in here, a bigger sofa and armchair, I love this little space because we hung fairy lights, so it feels like the perfect nook to snuggle or read.
I wiggle to get comfy and grab a blanket from the basket by the fire palace.
We’ve decorated the room for autumn so the blanket is a burnt orange with pumpkins on it, along with some seasonal quote pillows and I added a couple of ornamental pieces to the shelves.
My kindle sits on the coffee table but instead of reaching for it, I take my phone from my pocket and tell myself I’m just putting on some soothing music, not checking my socials for messages.
I’m a total liar.
Unlocking it, my chat with Cass is already waiting for me on screen and would you look at that.
He replied. He replied with a fucking photo.
A photograph of not only the mask, which to my surprise has a soft lilac glow to the crossed out eyes and stitched mouth, but his entire naked torso, with a slither of dark hair trailing down low, below his waistband.
Foxes dancing with vines and leaves are tattooed on his chest, but even with how dark the marks are, I can see each gorgeous ridge of his chiseled body.
He sent me a topless photo of him wearing the mask.
The phone clatters from my hand onto the oak floor and I palm my dick, pressing down onto my flannel lounge pants as heat courses through my body and makes it stand to attention. The sudden lust nearly hurts. I’ve never gotten this hard so quickly.
A flurry of pings sound from beneath me and I scurry to grab the phone, my glazed eyes reading over the influx of messages from him.
@Cass.cowbells: Ah shit delete that!
I didn’t mean to send that. It wasn’t for you.
I fucking swear if you do not delete that.
I bet you’re wanking to this you fucker.
ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!
Delete it
I look over the ridge of his abs and tight pecs one more time, adding the way his tattoos all blend together beautifully one more time before clearing my thoughts enough to form a reply.
Yeah, it’s a little annoying that he clearly took that for her and not me, but he still went into his album and sent me the masked picture, aware of the full photograph or not. He did what I asked of him.
This man is going to be fucking mine.
Pushing the urge down to run upstairs and play with my dick, a devilish smirk slips onto my lips as I type back and finally put my phone away for the evening.
@yourghostboy: I was there for you. See you soon baby.
I may or may not have done things all night to the picture of Cass in his mask. Gorgeous body aside, the expressional mask seemed to bore into my soul and I couldn't get enough of thinking what he'd do to me in it.
After waking up late and mini Miles screamed at me that enough was enough, he'd fall off before he could take any more, I took a shower and threw on an oversized green knitted jumper and my usual black jeans. It was Saturday and I’d finally run out of excuses to not run errands.
I set off from the house to grab my groceries and if a couple of pumpkin candles fall in my basket? I'm not to be blamed.