Two months had passed since that day in the canteen.
Somehow, against every wall I'd built, Elroy and I had become… friends. Good friends.
I'd planned to drift through college invisible, no attachments, no risks. Instead, I ended up with one person who actually mattered—and of all people, it was him. My old bully. The boy who used to make my childhood feel like a battlefield.
I never told him. Never dropped a hint that we'd known each other before. I played it cool, laughed at his jokes, shared notes, grabbed coffee between classes. He seemed to have forgotten everything. Or maybe he'd changed that much.
Either way, I let myself believe it was safe.
Now the biggest assignment of the semester loomed—due in two days—and I hadn't even started the second half. It was already 7 p.m. I was still walking home from the library, streetlights flickering on, mind racing with deadlines and guilt.
Then I felt it.
Eyes on me.
Not paranoia. Real. Someone was following.
I glanced over my shoulder—empty sidewalk. A quick scan of the shadows between parked cars—nothing. But the prickle on the back of my neck didn't lie.
I walked faster.
When I finally turned onto my street, I let out a shaky breath. Home. Safety. Almost there.
I started to look back one last time—
Pain exploded at the back of my skull.
Everything went black.
…
Time blurred. Minutes? Hours?
I came to slowly, head throbbing, mouth dry as sandpaper.
Darkness. Complete. Something soft but tight covered my eyes—a blindfold.
I was sitting. Tied. Wrists bound behind the chair, ankles secured to the legs. Rope, maybe. Tight enough that struggling only bit into my skin.
I tried to shout. Nothing but a cracked rasp came out. My throat burned. I needed water.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Coming closer.
Someone stopped right behind me. I could feel their heat, their presence like a shadow pressing in.
"Who the hell are you?" My voice broke, weak.
No answer.
Instead, a hand tilted my chin up. Cool glass touched my lips—water. I drank greedily, not caring if it was poisoned. It was just water. Clean. Cold.
I gasped when the glass pulled away, trying to steady my breathing, trying to think.
Then the chair creaked.
Hands gripped the backrest on either side of my head.
A body leaned in close—chest brushing my shoulder.
A scent hit me. Familiar. Warm. Something I knew but couldn't place.
Lips brushed the side of my neck. Soft at first. Then firmer. A slow, deliberate kiss.
My pulse slammed against my skin.
A hand slid up—male, definitely male—fingers tracing my jaw, then pressing against my lips.
They slipped inside.
I froze.
He played with my tongue, slow and invasive, coaxing saliva until it dripped down my chin. Messy. Humiliating. Intimate.
Another deep kiss on my neck—this one harder, teeth grazing.
His other hand moved to the blindfold.
It loosened.
Light seeped in at the edges. Blurry shapes.
I twisted my head, desperate to see.
The blindfold slipped lower.
And there he was.
Elroy.
Face inches from mine. Eyes dark, intense, unguarded. No smirk. No teasing. Just hunger.
My stomach flipped—shock, fear, something hotter.
All this time… he'd looked at me like this?
He'd planned this?
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, heat curled low in my gut. Wrong at first—then right.
Maybe he fell first.
Maybe I was falling harder.
He pulled his fingers free, letting me breathe. A thin string of saliva connected us for a second before it broke.
"Sorry," he murmured, voice low and rough. "But I thought this way would be… better."
He watched me, waiting. Searching my face for panic. For rejection.
I smiled—small, shaky, real.
"I like dark romance," I said, meeting his eyes straight on. "I liked it."
His expression shifted—surprise, then something feral and relieved.
"Really?"
His hands moved again, sliding under my shirt this time. Warm palms against my stomach, then higher, fingers curling around the back of my neck.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
He kissed me then—properly. On the lips. Hard. Hungry.
With his free hand he reached behind me and tugged the knots loose. My wrists came free.
I didn't push him away.
I grabbed his face instead—pulled him closer—kissed him back harder. Fingers in his hair. Teeth clashing.
He groaned against my mouth.
The ropes around my ankles stayed—for now.
Neither of us seemed in a hurry to change that.
The room was still dim.
My heart was still racing.
But for the first time in years… I didn't feel alone in the dark.