Beneath the Watching

2. Mabel

2

MABEL

“Don’t drink too much tonight,” Al said, as we entered the parking garage lift that would bring us to the casino. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Externally, I nodded my head. He knew I wasn’t much of a drinker.

The elevator shot up smoothly, and I watched my boyfriend run a hand through his hair like it’d make a difference. The brown curls did whatever they wanted to, the wiry texture reminding me of the brittle metal of one of those sponges with the weird pink soap inside. His mustache and beard weren’t much better. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, he was just unfortunate enough to have unruly, wiry hair.

We wound our way through the crowds to the club we frequented with our friends, passing decor designed to resemble the New England countryside. The air was charged with a sense of excitement and desperation, and smelled of cigarettes, booze, air freshener and cologne. The building was considered non-smoking, but as with many things in this place, the rules were disregarded.

After traveling a narrow glass hallway and passing through a security checkpoint, we found our destination and settled at a table while Al greeted my friend Madison’s boyfriend, James, and then moved on to the other men. He was always schmoozing, but it was part of his job, I suppose.

James was a venture capitalist, and Al was an investment banker. Madison was an event planner, but she only worked part-time at James’s encouragement. I did nothing. Or I was as I liked to say, “between jobs.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, or what I was supposed to do, so I spent my time taking care of Al’s and my apartment, cooking, baking, and cleaning. He still had a cleaning lady pointlessly coming in once a week and I made all our meals.

Nothing had really interested me enough to dedicate my time and attention to other than preparing food and I didn’t like making a commitment to anything. What if I made the wrong choice? Talking to Al about it never got me anywhere, he’d said all I had to do was “exist.” I’d pointed out that I would either way and all he did was shrug. So helpful.

My primary focus lately was the fact Kiara had eyes on her and that kept my brain busy. The gaze of some members of our social circle had recently turned into an intense curiosity, as if she were a shiny new toy they’d never seen before. It was unnerving the way their gazes tracked her, as if they were predators and she were the prey. The others, the ones I spent the most time with and considered my inner circle, watched her with a sense of caution.

Kiara had arrived tonight with Madison, and I smiled at the two of them while drinks were brought to our table.

“How long before Kiara runs to the bathroom,” I whispered to Al. He laughed and I giggled. It was wrong to use her angst for humor, but it had become a private joke between the two of us.

I watched as one of the men, Stefan, grabbed chairs from other tables and brought them over to our area. He’d show up most times when we were all here and just sit quietly, sipping what I assumed was vodka. He caught me staring as he rearranged furniture, smirked at me, and proceeded to push a chair under a neighboring table before I looked away.

Another man, who I’d seen around but didn’t know, was watching our group from across the room. When he caught me looking, I averted my gaze.

When I glanced up again, he was focused on Kiara. She was now across the floor, over near the bar with Julian.

Julian was an odd man who occasionally lurked about, trailing our group but never contributing to anything. A “hanger-on I think it was called, when people behaved as he did. The two of them were near the counter and he was standing much too close to her. She looked annoyed but wasn’t making any moves to get away.

Searching the crowd, I found the man across the room again. He stood unmoving, holding a small glass, completely focused on an unsuspecting Kiara. I gasped when I thought his eyes began to glow with a faint reddish light. Was it a reflection? I stared at him, trying to determine whether the lights were hitting his face just right, or what was causing the unique effect.

Al stood up, interrupting my investigation. “Remember—don’t drink too much.” He eased past me while I cast a dirty look at his retreating shoulders. If there was anyone to worry about, it was Madison and Kiara. The two of them drank such an astonishing amount of alcohol it was a mystery they weren’t dead or attending recovery meetings. They were the stars of our group compared to me, so no one ever said anything to them when they overindulged in copious amounts of liquor.

“You see it, don’t you?” Stefan surprised me by sliding into the booth Al had just vacated. He’d never said a word to me before, and now here he was both right next to me and talking to me. I was used to his gaze, and I tried to watch him when he wasn’t paying attention, but this was the last thing I’d expected. He was stunningly attractive, and his self-confidence was alluring—the direct opposite of the woman he’d decided to speak to.

His perusal was always too intense, and I’d squirmed under the weight of it more than once, confused by my own conflicting feelings. Was he wondering why I was here? Wondering why Al bothered with me?

Perhaps he wondered why Kiara and Madison were friends with me. It was something I’d struggled with my whole life, thinking others only entertained me because they felt bad for me, or felt some misplaced sense of obligation. It was repeatedly instilled in me, at any early age, that I was mostly useless. I’d managed to come as far as finally enjoying my own company, but I frequently struggled with my intrusive thoughts.

Stefan leaned back against the seat, spreading his legs so his thigh touched my own. My body heated under his searching gaze, the force of it seeming to reach the recesses of my mind. Still dumbfounded he was speaking to me; I remained silent and examined him. He was dressed formally, as the men in my circle tended to, with a jacket, vest, dress shirt and slacks, leather shoes. His dark brown hair was swept back from his forehead and light stubble lay below high cheekbones. Full red lips curved into a smile.

He leaned closer to me as if he were sharing a secret. “I know you see it.”

Goosebumps flittered across my skin as my breath hitched. Why was he paying attention to me? What was he talking about? His attention was one I’d daydreamed about, when I’d track him out of the corner of my eye, wondering what he was like. To have him sit next to me wasn’t something I’d ever thought would happen.

My friends wandered back to the tables, and I heard Kiara say my name in conversation. Madison yelled, “Having the best time ever, babe!” James laughed along with her, ever amused by his girlfriend’s antics. It felt like I was observing everything from a far distance, the sounds of the club echoing around me, while I remained hyperaware of the man by my side.

James raised his voice, asking Stefan to get chairs again, but my new companion ignored him, getting comfortable and laying an arm on his lap. His shoulder brushed mine and I felt myself flush. He smelled amazing and his hair looked so incredibly soft I wanted to run my hand through it.

Al pushed past my seated friends, pausing next to Madison, and gently cupping her side as if to move her out of the way.

She was sitting down near Kiara.

The man who’s eyes I thought glowed stalked up behind Kiara’s seat, giving me a cursory glance. Someone called him Levon, refreshing my memory of his name. I felt Stefan come to attention, his posture straightening, his shoulder stiffening as Kiara slowly rose from her seat and left with the man. Madison wiggled her eyebrows at me before turning her attention back to her boyfriend.

A hand squeezed my leg, right above my knee. “Do you ever speak?” Stefan was eyeing me again.

“I do, but you learn a lot more by watching,” I replied, my focus on the imprint of heat left by his palm.

“Then you know.”

“Know what?” I asked, shredding a napkin on the table while I tried to regulate my breathing.

Stefan lifted his glass and took a sip, his eyes shuttering as if he’d tasted the nectar of the gods. “You’ve been betrayed.”

My heart leapt in my chest. I knew what he was implying, but they were just friends. Friends without benefits. “You’re wrong,” I objected.

“How many things do you think are overlooked because people can’t see what’s staring them in the face?” He set his glass down and leaned back, his hand sliding up my leg a few inches, burning a hole in my thigh. “You’re looking at everything but not seeing anything.”

I gripped his hand, but it wouldn’t budge. “I see plenty.” Was he trying to be clever? His tone suggested he wasn’t, but the words came across as contrived.

“What do you see?”

My pulse was racing, his touch sending heat to my midsection. Stefan was implying Al was cheating on me with Madison and here I was, getting turned on by the man beside me. “I see you touching me when you shouldn’t be,” I retorted.

He laughed softly. “You don’t really mind though, do you?”

I wiggled, pulling myself closer to the table and resting my arms on the surface. His hand didn’t leave. Rather, it slid closer to my core, and he dragged his pinkie finger against my crotch. The feel of it penetrated through the fabric of my skirt, igniting desire.

“Stefan,” I whispered under my breath. Why was he doing this? He’d always faded into the background, paying me and everyone else no mind. Now, here he was, flirting with me, and planting ideas in my head. Ideas I had no business imagining despite having done so many times before, but it wasn’t like I was upset.

“Mabel?” he whispered back. He bent toward me, nuzzling my neck. I felt his breath against my skin, warm and compelling, encouraging me to cooperate. My head tilted as his lips brushed my skin and my eyes closed as his finger traced small circles between my legs. At any moment, someone could notice what we were doing. The thought both thrilled and worried me.

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “What are you doing to me?” I knew how I was supposed to feel about his indecent touching, but the accompanying emotions just weren’t surfacing. I was enjoying this much more than I should have and my complaint was a total lie. How many times had I wished he’d noticed me? Too many evenings here at the casino with my friends to count.

He pulled his hand away and placed an elbow on the table. With his other hand, he lifted his drink as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t left me wet and needy and wanting so much more and feeling guilty for it. Just because my and Al’s relationship was unconventional, it didn’t make what I was doing any more acceptable.

“You didn’t tell me what you see,” he answered.

I met his knowing gaze as I followed Madison out of the corner of my eye. She was headed in the direction Kiara and Levon had disappeared in and I wondered what was going on. “I just like to know what’s going on around me. People are interesting.”

As I looked into his eyes, a thin red circle began to form around his pupils. He stared at me, daring me to say something, watching as if he expected me to scream or run away. My back hit the seat, but I didn’t make any other moves. The crimson stain seemed to peak before it dimmed, fading away.

His chest heaved as he let out a short laugh and placed his palms on the table. “Fascinating,” he remarked, leaving me even more confused than if he’d remained silent.

Madison returned to say goodbye, pulling my stunned gaze from Stefan’s changing eyes, before she and James left to go home.

“What did you do?” I asked. Everyone was gone, including Al. I hadn’t noticed the club clearing out and it had seemed abrupt, as if we’d fast-forwarded through the night.

“What do you mean?” Stefan finished the rest of his drink, putting the glass on the table.

“Where’s Al?”

He shrugged. “I’m not his keeper.”

Worry filled me, imagining myself being left behind. “I need to go home.” I lifted off the seat and pushed at the man.

He slid from the booth and held out his hand to help me up. “Call him.”

I did. Apparently, Al rented our usual room in the casino’s hotel, and we weren’t returning to our house tonight. Glancing around, I almost expected him to be walking across the floor, coming to retrieve me. It was eerie, the emptiness of the club. A couple waitresses and waiters milled about, wiping down tables as soft music played in the background. I turned to leave.

Stefan grabbed my arm, stopping me. “I know you see me. I know you can see us .” A chill ran down my spine while I tried to pull away from him. “I can feel your pulse and I can smell your arousal. Did you know we’re designed to get that response from you?”

I held my breath and met his gaze when he spoke again. “You could’ve resisted it if you chose to. Instead, you welcomed me. Why?” he demanded.

There was no answer forthcoming; I had no idea why. All I knew was that there was a magnetic force drawing me in, like a moth to a flame. I wasn’t sure what made him say such strange things. He’d never spoken to me before though I knew he’d been aware of my existence and had recently started to watch me closely. He may have said hello to me once or twice, but that was it.

“Speak,” he ordered.

My mouth opened yet no words passed my lips while a wave of discomfort ran through me. My physical reaction and lack of objection to his touch felt like cheating, like I had been unfaithful to Al. Rationalizing my behavior, I told myself I hadn’t had a choice.

I was well aware of Al and Madison’s antics together, the overfamiliarity. The only thing that bothered me was when it was flaunted out in the open. The man in front of me claimed to be intuitive but the nature of my relationship had been glaringly missed by him. He didn’t know there was no intimacy between me and my boyfriend.

“Well?” Two steps forward and he was directly in front of me, insisting I reply.

“I...”

His eyes narrowed and I glanced down, focusing on the dark navy blue of his shirt, the matching buttons. A black leather belt with a sleek silver buckle. Perfectly creased charcoal dress pants, the hem skirting the tops of his flawlessly laced shoes, tie loops precisely proportioned.

“You don’t know anything about my life,” I said finally.

He moved even closer, the electric heat of his body piercing my skin through my clothing. “I know I want to drink you down.”

He wasn’t touching me. Not a stray finger or a single strand of hair brushed my flesh, but I could still feel him. His scent caressed me, assaulting my senses. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to get my bearings. What was happening to me? No one had ever affected me this way and Stefan had always been around, right? So why the change? He’d seemed almost like an extra on a movie set; a person of no consequence for me to admire until now. I’d never realized he was this stunningly beautiful, or that I was being slowly sucked into his orbit.

“Will you let Al touch you tonight? Will you imagine it's my touch making you dripping wet? Or will it be your own fingers making your soul dance?” His words forced my eyes back open. The dirty words were the last thing I’d expected from the alluring man in front of me.

“We don’t, uh, do that.” It was none of his business and my honesty left me flustered. I hadn’t meant to admit that potentially embarrassing fact to anyone.

He leaned toward my ear. “I see you.”

Fumbling with my purse, I rushed off to the bank of elevators and pushed the button. I squeezed my eyes shut when the doors closed. I couldn’t believe I’d admitted something so personal to someone who was practically a stranger.

No one knew we didn’t have sex. Not Madison, not Kiara. No one. We were a couple, yes—but it was an arrangement, and we’d be married one day. Al could sleep with whoever he wanted as long as he was discreet, and I didn’t find them in bed with him.

I’d never told him I’d be okay with that; I’d just assumed he’d take care of his needs with discretion. If he even had needs . He wasn’t a very sexual person by nature, not that I’d ever noticed. I’d attempted to bring up the subject once, back in the beginning, but he’d refused to discuss the matter, uncomfortable I’d dared broach it. Our social media pages described our relationship as “its complicated.” We’d been coexisting with whatever we had just fine.

The two of us were close friends although we did exchange quick kisses in public for appearance’s sake. Sometimes we even cuddled at home when we watched movies or television shows. We did have minor affectionate feelings toward each other, but there was nothing carnal occurring in the bedroom. I’d have to revisit the intimacy topic with him again soon, for sure.

Al had some severe hang-ups, I knew. Something had happened in his childhood that left him unable to form close, intimate relationships with anyone and he refused to speak about it. That was fine with me, as I didn’t like to fill anyone in on my own past, either, though Madison and Kiara knew some details.

Al had helped me out when I’d left my last foster parents, ageing out of the system at eighteen, after living in their home for almost four years. I’d never been close to them, there were no parent-child feelings between myself and the two people I called mom and dad. Life had felt like a fancy boarding house situation and when they fostered more, younger children, I knew I’d overstayed my welcome. They’d fulfilled their duty of keeping me alive with a roof over my head.

All my foster parents had treated me like an accessory, a stand-in, and I was most likely seen as a paycheck. There was no physical abuse present in the homes that I’d witnessed. Perhaps neglect? Emotional abuse? But we’d all had every material thing we needed. I was fine with being told I was merely present for image and that was all I was good for. I just wanted a place to call home. I could deal with the conditions and appreciated the rude honesty as it left clearly defined parameters for me to operate in.

It’d been mostly the same at every foster home I’d been in. Cold parenting; basic needs met. Since I was around five years old, I’d been in the system, never lasting more than four to six years with each family. Seen and not heard, I was shuffled off when my usefulness expired.

I didn’t remember my birth family, just some foggy images that flitted about in the recesses of my mind. Fields of yellow flowers, bright sunny skies, a soft, female presence, and that was it. No one had an answer for why or how I’d found myself in foster care and eventually, I’d stopped asking. I’d learned early on to stop expecting a family to truly love and cherish me.

Afterall, my own family hadn’t wanted me.

I’d met Al through Madison while we were in private high school, and things evolved from there. My current life had still placed me in a doll-like status, just with the added benefit of occasional affection.

After I’d left my last foster family I found myself in another situation where I felt like a roadblock to what the people around me really wanted. The family would’ve let me stay, they’d half-heartedly said, but I knew it was time to move on. Other children needed the empty bedroom, and I couldn’t deny they didn’t want me there.

Al hadn’t seemed to have wanted a serious, permanent relationship based on love when we made our agreement, just as I didn’t. We’d both said we only wanted the security the arrangement would bring, so it’d been perfect. He’d never pushed me for more.

He had told me he felt like he’d never meet "the one,” and I’d felt the same way. It reminded me of the old joke, “if we’re still single at thirty-five, we’ll marry,” that people sometimes tossed around. In our case, Al was that age, and I was under thirty.

Our arrangement worked fine until it didn’t. My boyfriend appeared to have strong feelings toward my best friend, if the way his face lit up when he saw her was any indication.

The knowledge that one of my closest friends would possibly be sleeping with my boyfriend stung. The bitterness felt unjustified in light of my lack of romantic feelings for the man and I was left considering the principle of their possible deception. If she was truly a good friend, she wouldn’t dream of hurting me in this manner.

Madison had no clue Al and I weren’t the same type of couple as her and James, so for all she knew, we were madly in love. Al and I did a great job of pretending.

It was something I should have discussed with Al but that was a door I didn’t want opened. Risking my friendship with my best friend was unfathomable even though the possibility existed she was risking her friendship with me. It was wrong, all of it was wrong—but I could live with it for now. I knew I should care more, but I just didn’t.

It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Al or I would end up wanting more from a relationship and become dissatisfied with what we’d agreed to. Everything had been going smoothly until now. Why did Stefan have to point it out?

My tumultuous thoughts were swept under the rug as I knocked on the door. Al opened it, cellphone cradled on his shoulder, crystal tumbler in hand. He ruffled my hair before settling on one of the sofas. He’d booked a suite, as he regularly did, and I wandered off to find the bedroom.

A bag containing a soft shirt and pair of leggings sat on the comforter. For all of Al’s likely indiscretions with Madison, he was very considerate. He even had a bottle of water and bag of dried banana chips sitting on the nightstand in case I was hungry.

He was deserving of love, but the chemistry wasn’t there, and we’d given up working on a physical relationship a long time ago. The thought of his flaccid dick coming anywhere near me made bile rise in the back of my throat.

No one on the outside had noticed the dynamic between Al and Madison other than Stefan. If others had, surely, they would’ve spoken up? Right?

Thinking of Stefan caused my skin to warm; the memory of his hand on my leg and his strokes between my thighs reminded me of everything I went without and everything I could’ve had.

There was no way I could fault Al for looking outside our relationship. I’d existed happily with the absence of intimacy until Stefan went and ruined it, reminding me of what I was missing.

I’d had a couple boyfriends when I was younger, and I’d been attracted to them and experienced some enjoyment of their bodies, but I was never enough for them. Not responsive enough, not interesting enough, found lacking in some esoteric way. It was like I was just there . I was useful—until I wasn’t, my entire life.

Ready for bed, I climbed under the covers, alone. I rolled onto my side and slid my hands under my pillow. Was this really how I wanted to live? I wanted to feel something, anything for someone else and have it returned, rather than the insidious apathy that clung to me like a mustard stain.

When my emotions threatened to affect me and draw out the things I didn’t want to deal with, I had the uncanny and very convenient capability of burying those feelings so deep they couldn’t hurt me. I’d been indulging in a lot of that lately. I tossed and turned until sleep finally swept me under, the sound of Al on the phone in the other room fading away as I did the same.

I woke up shivering and stretched my arm to grab the comforter. Right away, I realized something was wrong.

Tilting my head, I looked up and saw strings of Christmas lights strewn across the ceiling. Confused, I rolled over and when I pressed down, instead of feeling the soft mattress under my fingertips, my palms were in pine needles and snow.

What the fuck .

Brushing the debris from my hands, I stood up. It wasn’t holiday decorations above me, I realized, it was the night sky. Stars and a full, oversized, bright moon centered within what appeared to be the Milky Way hung over my head. It was gorgeous.

Quickly, I realized I was wherever my friend Kiara had been transported to the night she drank some of the old wine. The stars had looked just like this, and I could’ve sworn it was the same type of snow due to the unnatural brightness.

This scene wasn’t flickering or disappearing like it had before, it was as solid as anywhere else I’d ever been. Twisting around, I scanned the landscape. I was all alone. There were no shadowy, cloaked figures hiding in the tree line, no footsteps crunching through the snow.

Bending over, I grabbed a handful of the fluffy white particles. It was so clean and pure it almost hurt my eyes while it melted in my palm. When I went to dry my hands on my clothes, I realized I was still in my pajamas.

Why did Kiara get a fancy dress, and I was trapped in shorts and a T-shirt? As usual, I was overlooked. I knew it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet it did. It felt like the universe took every opportunity it could to remind me I didn’t matter. I sucked in a deep breath. Feeling sorry over my outfit wouldn’t change a thing, it was a complete waste of energy.

The landscape around me wasn’t evolving as I’d expected it to. In the abandoned house where I’d watched the scene transition, it’d taken only a couple seconds for everything to go back to normal. It couldn’t have been the wine inducing the phenomenon as I’d previously assumed. That knowledge sent a shudder through me I couldn’t blame on the cold.

I hadn’t touched the bottle that night when we’d encourage Kiara to drink. I’d briefly considered the glittering alcohol responsible, but then it didn’t make any sense. My friend had drunk some, but I hadn’t gotten any in my mouth until the day I’d shattered the glass container. I’d seen this place before a single drop had ever touched me.

Spurred by the freezing air I began walking, wondering how long it would take for me to be back in my hotel bed. The chilly air was a bit too much so I headed for the woods, hoping the tree cover could keep some of the cold and bruising wind at bay.

It was difficult to discern for certain, but where I’d found myself looked different than the place I’d seen before. The pines seemed closer together, the forest denser, and there was less of a clearing in the center where I’d woken up. It was possible the vision had distorted my perception of the area. I hadn’t been as fully involved as I was now. That experience had been like watching a movie.

It was impossible to find a clear path and I picked my way over rocks and fallen branches, my socked feet getting soaked and my toes turning numb. Al made fun of me for wearing socks to bed, but it’d sure come in handy even if the layer of protection was minor.

When I crossed the tree line and entered the forest, a sudden noise in the near distance sent a fissure of panic up my spine. There was no way to know if I was trespassing or if I was welcome here, no way to know what I was dealing with.

Quickly, I darted to the ground and ducked behind the trunk of the closest tree. I wasn’t ready to face anything, not before I even knew where I was. Drawing my legs close to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my knees and waited for the sounds to go away.

“She’s probably an ice cube by now.” I heard someone say after a few minutes of wishing my exhaled breaths weren’t so puffy and white.

Carefully, I scooted closer to the turf until I was almost laying down and I prayed they hadn’t spotted or heard me.

“Another interloper.” A different voice grumbled as a stick snapped under a boot. “I heard Ramone’s got the other one.”

My ankles hurt as the chill crept into my bones and stole any remaining warmth from my feet. Suddenly, my socks slipped in the snow shoving a surprised grunt from my lungs.

“There you are,” a man in a long coat said, swinging around the tree. He squatted in front of me. “You’re turning blue.”

By now, my teeth were chattering, and I was left unable to speak a decipherable word. A second man appeared behind him, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked me over. “Pick her up,” he said.

The first man, who quickly introduced himself as Jack, lifted me from the ground, holding me with one arm at my back and the other under my legs. My frozen feet dangled, flopping back and forth with every step he took as he lifted his legs over fallen logs and other blemishes strewn across the forest floor.

After several minutes, we came out of the woods onto what looked like a main road. “Benjamin, give her your coat. We can’t bring her back dead.”

The man shucked off his covering and placed it over me, tucking the edges in where he could. Dead? Was it that bad? Yes, I was extremely cold but I didn’t feel death knocking at my door. They had to be exaggerating.

Slowly, I began to warm up under the fabric and started becoming sleepy. I must’ve ended up dozing off because the next thing I knew, Jack said, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

When I opened my eyes, I was in a vast room with soaring ceilings, lying on a couch under a pile of blankets. “Where am I?” I asked softly, moving myself to sit up.

Jack leaned down. “Oh, no. Don’t move too fast, you nearly died.” He tucked a blanket back around me. “He’ll kill me if anything happens to you.”

“Huh?” It didn’t feel true that I’d almost died. I pushed the comforter from my lap and rubbed my legs. My body felt normal, and the pain was gone as if it had never plagued me to begin with.

“Get her some water,” Jack said to Benjamin before turning to me and trying to tuck the blanket back in around my wiggling legs. “Or something stronger?” He looked down at me.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I kept a close eye on the two men as they moved around.

The sound of a door creaking echoed across the room, drawing my gaze. Jack and Benjamin stopped fussing around me and stood at attention, waiting for whoever it was. I watched as the wooden panel slowly swung forward.

Stefan didn’t seem nearly as surprised to see me as I was to see him, his casual stroll across the floor a picture of relaxation. He was wearing the same clothing I had seen him in just hours before, making it seem like the casino was situated on the other side of the entry.

My sense of time and my equilibrium were completely shaken up like I had entered a mirror and were now trapped behind the glass. It was an unnerving feeling, as if I’d entered a parallel universe. I still didn’t know where I was, and Stefan’s appearance here was as surreal as everything else. I was supposed to be safely under the covers in my and Al’s hotel suite.

Jack and Benjamin moved over to the right while the man walked toward me. He glanced down, taking in my appearance and seemingly finding it lacking—if the scowl was any indication.

“Jack, Benjamin,” Stefan said and paused. “Tell no one she was here. Tell no one where you found her.” Stefan turned to me again before returning his dark gaze to the two men. “As a matter of fact, you’ve never seen or heard of her. On pain of death. Is that understood?”

Benjamin and Jack nodded.

“Understood?” he snapped at them, repeating the question. Both men tensed and answered simultaneously, “Yes.”

He stared at Benjamin and then Jack. “Leave.” Both men vacated the room and Stefan stepped closer to me, eyeing the blanket before settling on my wet socks.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned me.

A short laugh huffed out of me. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I tilted my head up. “I don’t why I’m here, I had no intention of being here. Where am I?”

“People don’t come here by accident. Who sent you?”

The thin red circle started glowing in his eyes just like I’d seen earlier. “How did you do that to your eyes?”

He gave me a cruel smile. “Your distractive questions won’t work on me. Answer my question.”

I pulled my legs up and tucked them to the side, trying to get comfortable. “I did answer you. I just woke up here. Is this part of the casino, like a new attraction or something?”

It could’ve been, I tried to tell myself. There could’ve been an addition built onto the huge complex, like a natural history museum, and I’d sleep-walked my way in. Stranger things had happened, I was sure. Though, that didn’t account for the trek through the woods or the whole waking up in the snow event.

The need to grasp straws grew stronger as my anxiety increased. I’d never been shaken up like this before. I wasn’t the type to get black-out drunk or experiment with any drugs; visiting deserted houses was about as adventurous as I got.

Waking up in a foreign place was exactly that—foreign. I was truly concerned. Nothing ever really bothered me as I tended to just go with the flow, but this situation was something I’d never dealt with before.

Stefan rubbed his temples and squatted in front of me, his glimmering eyes level with my own. I leaned forward for a closer look noticing how the irises were lit from within, the incandescence like that of a firefly. Their luminosity ebbed and flowed almost hypnotically; I could’ve watched them for hours. While disturbing, it was also beautiful. But then again, everything about this man was.

He grabbed my shoulders, pushing me back before he stood up, startling me. “What is wrong with you?” he snarled.

“What do you mean? I really don’t know how I got here.”

He dragged a hand over his mouth. “Not that, never mind.” He held out his hand. “Get up.”

A gasp escaped me when I gripped the outstretched limb. I felt a static shock, like what you get in the winter when you’re cold and you touch something warm, but it didn’t hurt. My fingers curled with his as he helped me, and his eyes flickered. He’d felt it, too.

My ears started buzzing, a fuzzy sound filling my head before it changed into a melody. It reminded me of a darker version of meditation music. I shook my head and swallowed, trying to clear my ears, but the sound persisted. “Do you hear that?”

Stefan let go of my hand. “Hear what?”

Was it really just me? The further twinge of worry filling my chest was unwelcome. “The sound, like music.”

He glanced down. “You need to leave before it's too late.”

Leaving me standing there, he leaned over the couch and began folding the blankets. The action appeared to unsettle him when he swiveled his head, unsure where to place the folded fabric.

Water squished between my toes when I wiggled them. I needed a towel. The chill had left me, but I was still extremely uncomfortable. “How do I leave?”

“The same way you got here,” he growled, tossing the pile to the corner of the couch.

He was decidedly unhelpful. “I don’t know how I got here or where I am, so how would I leave?” I asked.

“I can't read you,” he said, straightening his back. “Not like I should. You’re not here by accident, as you’d like me to believe.”

Slowly, I lowered myself back on the couch wondering what he meant and grabbed a throw from the pile he’d just folded. The remaining blankets, I used as a pillow while he stared at me in disbelief. He swung back toward the couch, reaching out for the fabric I was tucking in around my shoulders. “I told you to leave,” he said.

Whipping an arm up, I grabbed his hand to stop him. “That’s what I’m doing,” I pleaded. The contact with his skin sent another frisson of pleasure through me. “I’m going back to sleep.” A look of confusion crossed his face.

“You can leave the music on, I don’t mind it,” I told him. Stefan twisted his fingers, holding my wrist. “So pretty,” I mumbled, staring at him as I closed my eyes, my arm still suspended in the air.

He let go and a deep sigh left me as I turned to my side. I had to be dreaming, some type of strange, realistic, vivid dream. The only solution was to go back to sleep if I was going to go home. A hand brushed my hair back from my face, sending a tingle down my spine.

“Are you going to drink me?” I mumbled, recalling his earlier words when he sat beside me in the night club. Did he think he was a vampire, or was he trying to be poetic when he’d said it?

I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt the couch shift. He’d lowered himself to the cushions, his hip beside mine. A small thrill ran through me although I kept my eyes tightly shut. I was feeling some type of way I couldn’t quite identify toward this guarded man other than merely raw desire. I liked it even if he wasn’t too fond of me.

That was okay though, I’d take what I could get. This had to be a dream, it was too amazing not to be.

I should’ve asked Kiara about that night in the abandoned house, but I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to. How do you ask someone if you're hallucinating with them? You do that, and they think you’re crazy. I already had enough labels—foster kid, boring, cold, Al’s useless girlfriend. I didn’t want to add “unstable” to the list whether it was accurate or not.

He dragged a finger down my neck, tracing the skin along my shoulder, down my arm, and all the way to the edge of my wrist. It was tempting to roll over on my back, to force his touch elsewhere and stare into his lava-like eyes again. The physical contact relaxed and comforted me, and I felt myself fading, my thoughts being sucked away to the recesses of my mind with tiny bursts of white light as I left.

The realistic dream never returned. Al and I fell back into our routine, with him at the office or out in our living room. We hadn’t been back to the casino where I would have hoped to run into Stefan again. Instead, Al came home at night to the dinners I prepared and then we’d settle down in the living room watching CSI reruns or a sitcom on stream.

I spent my days cleaning our home while listening to meditation videos I’d found online and experimenting with baking different kinds of bread. The music I put on reminded me of the vivid dream and spending my time in the kitchen got me out of my head.

Kinda.

Currently, I was altering a banana bread recipe, substituting the over-ripe fruit with jars of green bean baby food. It’d worked with sweet potatoes, so maybe it would with a green vegetable? It was unexpected and maybe adventurous. The urge to mix things up by doing something different couldn’t be ignored and I’d found just the thing to keep me focused.

Maybe I could find a job in one of those cute little artisan bakeries that lined Boston’s side streets? It was something to give serious consideration to if I could ever stop playing with uniquely odd and quirky flavors. To be honest, I don’t think I could’ve if I tried. I was having too much fun trying to see what I’d come up with next.

“What is that smell?” Al entered the kitchen just as I pulled a discolored loaf from the oven. He threw his laptop bag on the counter and pulled off his long coat, laying it over the back of a chair.

Setting the pan on a cooling rack, I said, “Green bean bread.”

Al wrinkled his nose and came around the counter. Steam from the loaf forced his head back. “Looks weird, smells good. But also, not good.” He gave my bread another suspicious glance and shook his head.

“I never thought of cinnamon and green beans going together but people cook them with lemons and almonds, so...” Al gave me side-eye before trying to be funny and backing away slowly with his hands up.

My creation had to cool down before I’d find out if it tasted better than it looked. I grabbed my phone, ignoring Al’s theatrics, and started Googling whether I could rush the process by sticking the container in the fridge. I wasn’t sure whether the composition of my loaf could withstand a sudden cooldown and didn’t want to ruin it.

“Are you going to get ready?” There was a get-together tonight, a party because of a deal Al and his friends at work had closed and I’d gotten carried away in the kitchen longer than I’d planned and forgotten all about it.

I nodded, shutting off the oven before pushing my experimental creation closer to the center of the counter. Al strode away scratching his beard, and all I could think about was whether my grumpy, glowing rescuer would be there tonight.