The Library

Lilith

I step out of the bar, the cool night air hitting my skin, making me shiver. It’s late, darker than I expected it to be. I shouldn’t have stayed so long, but Anna insisted. She always does, dragging me to these bars, saying I need to get out more, enjoy my youth. But tonight, I wasn’t really enjoying anything. I couldn’t. I kept thinking about him—those mismatched eyes, the way they seemed to see straight through me at The Library, and then again on campus.

I still can’t shake him from my mind. It’s ridiculous. I don’t even know his name, but the thought of him has been following me like a shadow, creeping into every quiet moment. There’s something about him that feels… wrong. Yet, at the same time, it makes my heart race in a way I don’t understand. It’s a dangerous kind of feeling, one I should be running from. But I’m not.

I pull my jacket tighter around me, my heels clicking against the pavement as I walk toward my apartment. Anna offered me a ride earlier, but I said no. I needed the air, the space to clear my head. But now, I’m starting to regret it. The streets are too quiet, too empty, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me. Again.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s not just fear. There’s something else, too, something darker and deeper. I hate admitting it, even to myself, but there’s a thrill to it. The idea that someone might be watching, that I could be seen without even knowing it. It makes my pulse quicken, makes my skin tingle. God, what’s wrong with me? I should be scared. I am scared.

But it also excites me.

I shake my head, trying to focus. I’m overreacting. It’s probably nothing. I’m just jumpy after today in the library on campus. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head—the way he looked at me, like he knew me, like he wanted something from me. It was unsettling, but at the same time, it was electrifying. I’ve never been looked at like that before. Like I was a secret he was desperate to unravel.

I glance over my shoulder, my heart pounding harder than I’d like to admit. The street is empty, but the feeling lingers. That heavy, oppressive feeling, like someone’s eyes are on me, even though I can’t see them. It’s the same as the night I saw that car outside my apartment. I still don’t know if it was real or if my mind was playing tricks on me. But the unease won’t go away.

I pick up my pace, my legs carrying me faster toward home. The faster I walk, the more my mind races. What if it was him? What if he’s watching me right now? I tell myself it’s ridiculous, that it’s just my imagination, but I can’t help it. The thought of him, those eyes, that voice—it’s like a drug. Dark and dangerous, but impossible to resist.

And the worst part? The more I think about it, the wetter I get.

It’s sick, twisted even, to feel this way about someone who scares me, someone I don’t even know. But fear has always been tied to excitement, hasn’t it? I’ve always loved reading about dangerous men, the kind who take what they want, who don’t play by the rules. The kind of men who pull you into their orbit and make you forget who you are. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him—because he feels like he stepped straight out of one of those dark romance books.

I try to shake it off, focusing on the sidewalk ahead. I’m nearly home, just a few more blocks. But the closer I get, the heavier the air feels, like the darkness around me is closing in. I can’t help but glance behind me again. Nothing. Just the empty street, the soft glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. But it doesn’t feel empty. It feels like something is lurking in the dark, just out of sight. Something—or someone—waiting.

I don’t see anything, but I can feel it. The way my heart races, the way my skin prickles with awareness, tells me that I’m not alone.

Suddenly, I wish I had taken Anna up on that ride she offered again. The cold air feels sharper now, cutting through the thin fabric of my dress, and I pull my jacket tighter, my steps quickening. The sound of my heels echoes in the quiet night, too loud, like they’re drawing attention to me. I hate that. I hate feeling exposed, vulnerable. But I can’t deny the way it makes my body react. It’s like adrenaline, the fear mixing with something else, something dark.

When I finally reach my building, I feel a moment of relief wash over me. I fumble with my keys, my hands shaking slightly as I unlock the door and slip inside. Safe. I’m safe now.

But as I step into my apartment and lock the door behind me, I can’t shake the feeling of unease. I cross the room, peering out the window. Nothing. No car, no sign of him. Maybe I imagined it all. Maybe I’m just paranoid after everything that’s happened.

I strip off my jacket, tossing it onto the couch, and head for the bathroom. Another shower. That’s what I need—a hot shower to try to wash away the tension. As the water hits my skin, I close my eyes, letting the warmth soothe me. But even in the steam, my mind drifts back to him. To the way he made me feel every time I’ve seen him. To the way he looked at me, like he already knew everything about me. Like I was already his .

I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my skin still tingling from the heat, but it’s not just the shower. It’s him. And maybe some of the alcohol. The thought of him watching me, following me. It makes my heart race in a way that’s hard to explain.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t crave this kind of danger. But I do.

And that terrifies me more than anything else.