Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
“I doubt that,” I mutter as I step farther inside.
He smiles. “I might just surprise you someday.”
I approach him, my own picture luring me in as much as the idea of finding out what he’s doing in the middle of the night. The picture was taken on school grounds, where I found him studying on the bench outside while I was searching for Dylan.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I ask.
I gaze over his shoulders as his hands meticulously move across a thin sheet of paper from left to right. The drawing is only half finished, but I clearly recognize my own face, far more beautiful than it appears in a mirror.
“Oh,” I mutter, in shock.
Alistair places the pencil down on his desk. “I can’t help it.” His eyes remain glued to the paper. “Images keep flooding my mind, and I can’t sleep if I don’t put them down.”
“You drew me,” I mutter.
“Is that weird?”
It takes me a while to respond because I’m stunned. Not sure if it’s because I’m scared or if I’m in awe at his level of detail because, dammit, it’s almost as if he does this for a living.
“No, I’m impressed.”
He turns around to look up at me. “Thanks.”
I smile, but my attention is drawn to the rest of his room, which is so full of clutter I wonder how anyone could ever live like this. Worn and unworn clothes, jewelry, art, and little trinkets here and there. One small crystal egg draws my attention because I have to push the button on the side. Out pops a tiny girl in tights, dancing around and around to a cute little song.
“I got it from a high-end designer store,” Alistair says, breaking the spell.
“You bought this?” I ask.
“I stole it,” he responds.
Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“But why?” I ask.
“Because I like the thrill,” he says.
There’s so much stuff here. He stole all of it? I’m amazed.
“So you don’t intend to use any of it?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
No wonder he stole that stuff at the grocery store when I caught him in the act.
Maybe that’s his thing. His vice.
My eyes suddenly land on a stack of notebooks, and I pick one up, wondering what’s inside.
I sift through the pages. Inside are a ton of drawings of Dylan in all sorts of poses, both with clothes and without. Enticing and sexy, almost. The level of detail is astounding and makes goose bumps scatter on my skin. Until I get to the next page … where I suddenly see my own face.
“Wait—” he mutters.
Too late. I can’t stop flipping through the pages. It’s like a movie come to life.
Image upon image of my own face and body in various poses and places. On the grass and in school, with a smile and with a seductive gaze. And even the one where he was sitting on the bench, and I asked him about Dylan.
The photo he took with his phone.
This is what it was for?
My heart comes to a stop the moment I see myself naked on the page. And the next one. And the one after that.
“You drew all of these?” I ask and I turn to look at him.
He nods. “I couldn’t stop drawing you.”
There’s even one where I’m lying in my bed, sleeping.
The pages tremble in my hands. “You were in my room more than once, weren’t you?”
There’s a long pause.
“Yes.”
I should’ve known the moment I found out he stole the diary.
He’s the kind who stalks. Sneaks. Invades.
When I turn around, he’s right there in front of me.
“Why?” My voice comes out in a squeaky breath.
His hand reaches for my face, and he caresses it so gently I almost fall apart. “I thought I’d found my muse already, but when you came into the picture, you invaded every corner of my mind,” he says.
I glance sideways at the paper lying on his desk. A half-finished drawing of me being spit-roasted on top of a tomb by two guys, one of which is him.
I didn’t realize his obsession ran this deep.
“Are you scared?”
I don’t know how to respond. Whether I should be afraid or impressed.
I shake my head softly, but when the palm of his hand softens against my skin, I instinctively lean into it.
“I’m just confused. I thought you and Dylan—”
“Dylan and I will always be,” he interjects as his hand snakes around the back of my neck, fingers curling through my hair. “But you … you’ve unleashed something inside me that I can’t ignore.”
Suddenly, he smashes his lips on mine, and I don’t know how to react.
With my eyes wide open, I let him kiss me, his hot lips roaming my mouth like he’s wanted to do this for ages and never had the chance.
It’s as if all time has stopped, and all that’s left is us, these drawings, and his obsession over me. He’s pouring everything he has into this one kiss, and it makes my whole body turn to mush in his hands.