I could still feel him inside me, a throbbing memory.
I wanted more.
I couldn’t want more. He didn’t do that to me because he liked me. He did that to me because he knew it would wreck me, humiliate me.
I gripped the railing to steady myself, when I saw it.
A single gold rose sitting on the railing, and this time it came with a note.
See you soon.
Just like that, fear eclipsed everything. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t reach me here. I lifted it and pricked myself on the stem.
“Abigail?”
I jumped at Theo’s voice, dropping both the rose and note to the sand out of sight. I spun to face him, heart pounding. Blood dripped from my finger into the velvety, soft-white dunes. His eyes sharpened on it.
“What happened?” he asked, taking a step to me. Any closer he would see the rose, the note.
“I cut myself on the railing. I don’t know.” My shaking voice betrayed me. Before he could take another step forward, I walked past him. “Come on, dog. Let’s go or Mother will throw a fit.”
I felt Theo’s suspicion coming off him in waves behind me.
I couldn’t focus on it, because all I could think was… my stalker had gotten inside Crowne Hall?
Eleven
THEO
I stayed outside Abigail’s room well into the night, not putting a toe past the bodyguard line, but I watched her. She’d been weird all day, ever since brunch. Jumpy and skittish. I played it off as what had happened between us.
But something in my gut said otherwise.
She was atop her silky white sheets now, with some kind of mask on her face, in an oversize shirt that read ADULT-ISH and black satin sleep shorts, her long sable-brown waves tied in a messy bun atop her head.
Beautiful.
“This is the Abigail I know,” I said, leaning against the door. “All her pretty makeup and lies washed away to show the troll beneath.”
She looked up, surprise flickering in her clay eyes before disappearing into a glare. “Shouldn’t you be barking at a car or something?”
She flipped a page in her book, ignoring me.
Abigail masturbating.
That’s an image I won’t get out of my head… fucking ever.
Before, I was never allowed in her wing. Didn’t mean she didn’t sneak me in. Let me lie on her bed with her in the glow of her lamp as I waited for her to fall asleep. We’d talked into the night, about anything and everything. What food we liked (she liked Crowne Drive-In Diner burgers, I liked licorice ice cream), our favorite movies (hers was Silent Hill, oddly enough), or just how much she wished her mother would love her. She never said it aloud, but it was obvious by how often she spoke of her.
Back then the farthest we went was holding hands.
Hers were always too small in mine.
I made her promises, though. Whenever we played our game, she never promised, but I made so many.
I promise someday I’m going to kiss you, Abigail.
I promise someday I’m going to fuck you, Abigail.