UNKNOWN NUMBER || ELIJAH HENERSON

Monroe Academy was not the kind of place where you could easily remain anonymous.

Among ancient bloodlines, supernatural beings, and students accustomed to the world bending to their will, reputation often mattered more than the truth. Everyone knew someone, everyone had secrets, and rumors spread faster than any official announcement.

Elijah Henerson fit perfectly into that kind of world.

Charming, shameless, and blessed with a talent for getting involved in other people’s business, he could make an entire table laugh, provoke an argument, and walk away smiling as if everything had gone according to plan. He loved teasing his friends, flirting for his own amusement, and pretending he never took anything seriously. It was rare to see him without a smile, and even rarer to catch him having an honest conversation about himself.

Most people assumed that was simply who he was.

And Elijah had no intention of proving them wrong.

⸻

1. Monroe Academy Cafeteria

“I swear, if you steal my food one more time, I’m sticking a fork in your hand.”

Elijah didn’t even look up from his plate.

“Cassian, you really should work on your conflict resolution skills.”

“Give me back my fry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Elijah.”

“Cassian.”

A second later, the fry disappeared into Elijah’s mouth.

“Rest in peace,” he remarked, pulling back his now-empty hand as though he had just paid tribute to a fallen hero.

Reed shook his head, while Jeremy, sitting across from them, smiled to himself. As usual, their table was filled with snarky remarks, petty arguments, and ridiculous debates that could drag on for the entire lunch period.

Elijah’s phone vibrated beside his plate.

He glanced at the screen.

An unknown number.

You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. Fuck you.

He read the message once, then again, before bursting out laughing.

“What is it this time?” Jeremy asked.

“I think I just received a greeting from someone’s ex.”

“Let me see.”

Without hesitation, Elijah slid his phone across the table. Jeremy read the message and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe he deserved it.”

“I don’t even know this number, genius.”

“In that case, I feel sorry for everyone involved.”

Elijah smirked to himself and typed out a reply.

Unknown Number: I don’t know what he did, but it sounds like he deserved it.

He sent the message, put his phone down, and returned to the conversation, where Cassian was still demanding justice for his stolen fry.

Nothing particularly interesting happened for the rest of lunch.

Or at least, nothing Elijah would have given more than a few seconds of thought.

⸻

2. Late Evening

Elijah was sprawled across his bed, scrolling through his phone without much interest. He’d made it through several hours of classes, dinner, and a particularly unsuccessful attempt at watching a movie that turned out to be far more boring than its description had promised.

Eventually, he opened his messages.

The unknown number still hadn’t replied.

He stared at the conversation for a moment before opening his chat with Jeremy.

Elijah: You alive?

Jeremy: Unfortunately. What do you need?

Elijah: Always so friendly.

Jeremy: I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t text without a reason.

Elijah smirked to himself.

Elijah: Remember that message from lunch?

Jeremy: The one where someone wished you death using several creative insults? Hard to forget.

Elijah: I want to know who the number belongs to.

This time, Jeremy called him.

Elijah answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, Blake?”

“Would you care to explain why you’re suddenly interested in this?”

“Because I have time now... And are you going to help me or interrogate me?”

“I’m wondering whether I should remind you that you received one message from a stranger, not a wedding invitation.”

Elijah snorted.

“Relax. I’m not picking out wedding rings.”

“Good. I was beginning to worry about your mental health.”

“Your concern is truly touching.”

Jeremy sighed but eventually agreed to help. He shared mutual friends with plenty of Monroe Academy students, so he started with public profiles and information he could reasonably connect to the number.

A few minutes later, he spoke again.

“I think I know who it is.”

“Well, look at you. You’re actually useful for something.”

“I can hang up at any time.”

“But you won’t.”

“Don’t test my patience.”

Elijah chuckled softly.

Jeremy sent him the profile.

Elijah opened it and studied the picture for a moment.

He knew that face.

A girl from Monroe Academy. He recognized her from the hallways and occasionally saw her around other students. They had never spoken long enough to consider themselves acquaintances.

And yet, she was the one who had sent him the message that had made him laugh during lunch.

“Do you recognize her?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ve seen her around a few times.”

“So you don’t know her, yet you’re suspiciously interested.”

“I just want to know why she was so pissed off.”

“Of course. And that’s why you’ve been looking through her profile for the past several minutes.”

Elijah glanced at his screen. Jeremy wasn’t wrong. He’d already opened a few public photos and read through her profile description.

He locked his phone.

“I’m heading off. See you tomorrow, Jeremy.”

“Good night, Elijah. And try not to do anything stupid. Women are unpredictable. Especially the ones who tell you to go fuck yourself.”

Jeremy hung up first.

Elijah set his phone down on the bed, only to pick it up again a moment later.

It wasn’t anything special. The girl had caught his interest, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

He didn’t know who she’d originally intended to send that message to. He didn’t know the story behind it. He didn’t have a plan, either.

He simply wanted to see if she’d reply.

He opened the conversation and typed out another message.

Unknown Number: Do you always greet strangers so warmly? Because if that was supposed to be a goodbye, it was a rather unusual one.

He sent it, then placed his phone on the nightstand.

This time, he wasn’t going to send another message.

At least, not until he got a reply.

The party at Monroe Academy was loud enough to make the stained-glass windows tremble. The halls were filled with music, laughter, expensive liquor, and supernatural heirs pretending they had no reputations to protect.

Elijah Henerson was exactly where he belonged.

Leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, he was entertaining Cassian, Reed, and Jeremy with a story that was probably half made up, but twice as entertaining as the truth.

Then Jeremy mentioned her.

The girl behind that message.

The one who had insulted Elijah without even knowing who she was talking to — and then blocked his number before he could say anything else.

Naturally, Elijah had wanted to know who she was. Now he did.

And when he spotted her across the room, curiosity got the better of him.

“Don’t,” Jeremy warned, noticing the direction of his gaze.

Elijah gave him a lazy smile.

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever stupid thing you’re planning.”

“That’s a remarkably vague accusation.”

“I know you. I don’t need specifics.”

Elijah laughed, set his glass down, and walked away before Jeremy could say anything else.

He approached her with the same effortless confidence he brought to everything: a crooked smile, a relaxed posture, and absolutely no sign that he’d spent any time thinking about her before tonight.

“Hi.”

His gaze swept over her face, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“I’m Elijah. And before you ask, no, I don’t usually introduce myself to strangers at parties. You’re just lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

He flashed her the kind of smile that had charmed more people than he would ever bother counting.

“So, are you going to tell me your name, or should I keep coming up with increasingly embarrassing guesses?”

He hadn’t expected indifference.

She wasn’t impressed. She didn’t seem particularly interested. And when she finally brushed him off and walked away, Elijah was left standing there with an untouched drink and a pride that had suffered, at most, a minor inconvenience.

For a moment, he simply watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then he chuckled under his breath.

“Well,” he muttered, “that’s new.”

When he returned to his friends, Cassian immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Rejected already?”

“Devastatingly,” Elijah replied, reaching for his drink. “I may never recover.”

Jeremy didn’t look convinced.

“You done?”

“Absolutely.”

He said it so casually that even Jeremy seemed willing to believe him.

The music grew louder. Someone pulled Elijah into another conversation. He laughed, flirted, and carried on as though the encounter had already slipped from his mind.

Except it hadn’t.

Not even close.

God, she was beautiful.

No. Beautiful wasn’t nearly enough.

In the photo Jeremy had shown him, she looked good. Really good. Elijah had even wondered whether his curiosity had been a little excessive.

Then he saw her in person.

And suddenly, the photograph seemed like a pathetic attempt to capture something that simply couldn’t be captured.

She was even more beautiful than in the pictures. Prettier than he’d expected. Perfect in a way that irritated him almost as much as it fascinated him.

And she’d brushed him off.

Elijah took a sip of his drink, turning his gaze away when he realized he was looking for her in the crowd again.

Get a grip.

He didn’t know her. He knew practically nothing about her. One message, one brief encounter, and a few minutes of conversation during which she hadn’t even bothered to show the slightest interest in him.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

And yet, he wanted to know who she was talking to. What made her laugh. Why she seemed so damn uninterested in him. Whether anyone else in that room could actually hold her attention.

That last thought amused him enough to make him snort.

“What are you laughing at?” Cassian asked.

“Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve just done something stupid.”

“Do I look like someone who needs a reason?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, and Elijah laughed again. The conversation continued as it always did. Jokes, teasing, another drink. Nothing had changed.

At least, not for anyone else.

Because every so often, Elijah’s gaze drifted back to the same girl.

He wasn’t about to admit that her indifference was beginning to irritate him. Or that he wanted to see her again.

It was just curiosity.

That’s what he told himself.

And for now, he intended to stick to that explanation.

⸻

Later, when he returned to his room, Elijah tossed his phone onto the bed and took off his watch. The party was still echoing in his head, but the music wasn’t what occupied his thoughts.

It was her.

Her face. Her gaze. The way she’d treated him as though he were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in her evening.

He reached for his phone.

The old number was still blocked.

Elijah stared at the screen for a moment, turning the device over in his hand. He could let it go. Accept that she wasn’t interested and find something else to occupy his attention.

He should have let it go.

Instead, he opened a new message and entered her number.

A new number. A new chance.

For a moment, he considered how to begin. He didn’t want to scare her or reveal that he knew her from the party. He just wanted an answer. Anything that might help him understand why she’d been so quick to shut him out.

Finally, he sent:

Unknown Number: You blocked the last number. Why?

Elijah set his phone down on the bed as though he’d just done the most ordinary thing in the world.

But a few seconds later, he picked it up again.

He checked the screen.

No reply.

A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to the empty room. “Don’t make me guess.”

Two days had passed since the party.

Two days since Elijah Henerson had sent a message from a new number and started convincing himself that he was waiting for a reply purely out of curiosity.

He still hadn’t received one.

Of course he hadn’t.

She had either blocked the new number, too, or decided to ignore him. Both possibilities irritated him more than they should have.

“Mate, are you even listening to me?”

Elijah lifted his gaze from his phone. Jeremy was sitting across from him in one of the academy’s cafés, looking like a man who had just attempted to have the same conversation for the third time.

“With all my heart,” Elijah replied.

“I said you look like an idiot.”

“And I said I appreciate your concern.”

Jeremy shook his head.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

Elijah’s smile stayed in place, but his eyes hardened for the briefest moment.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. And I’m an innocent, humble beta.”

Elijah snorted.

“I always knew you had a talent for lying.”

Jeremy laughed, and Elijah changed the subject without the slightest effort. As usual. A joke, a teasing remark, another story that had everyone at the table laughing.

Nobody had any reason to suspect anything was wrong.

And that was exactly how Elijah intended to keep it.

⸻

The following morning, Elijah found himself thinking about her again.

He knew she had Advanced Supernatural Theory at nine. Professor Whitmore wasn’t exactly famous for his patience with late arrivals, and the campus café opened early enough for Elijah to pick up a coffee before classes began.

Coincidence?

Of course.

At least, that was what he intended to call it.

A few minutes later, he stood outside her door with a paper cup in his hand. Black coffee with a little milk, the lid securely fastened so it wouldn’t spill along the way.

He didn’t knock.

He placed the cup outside her door, took a picture, and returned to his own room before anyone could notice him.

Only then did he message her from the new number.

Unknown Number: There’s coffee outside your door.

Unknown Number: Don’t let it get cold. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

He stared at the messages for a moment.

Then he added another.

Unknown Number: You have Advanced Supernatural Theory at nine, right? Professor Whitmore isn’t exactly known for being merciful to people who show up half-asleep.

It was interesting, how much you could learn about someone without asking a single direct question.

Even more interesting was how little it took to make that person wonder who was on the other side of the screen.

Elijah put his phone down.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Eventually, he picked it up again.

No reply.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Come on.

Unknown Number: Stop ignoring me. I’m trying to be nice.

He sent the message and leaned back against his headboard, turning the phone between his fingers.

He didn’t understand why it was so difficult for her to simply respond. She didn’t have to like him. She didn’t even have to have a conversation with him.

One word would be enough.

One reaction.

Anything that proved he wasn’t completely invisible to her.

⸻

Later that day, Elijah spotted her in one of the academy’s corridors.

He didn’t approach her.

Instead, he leaned against a stone pillar, talking to Cassian as though he happened to be standing there by chance.

“Henerson, stop staring,” Cassian muttered.

“I’m not staring.”

“Of course not. I’m just admiring the architecture.”

Elijah flashed him a wide grin.

“I knew you’d develop interests eventually.”

Cassian gave him the middle finger, and Elijah laughed so naturally that nobody passing by would have noticed anything unusual.

His gaze drifted back to her for a moment.

She was right there, close enough to speak to, yet he made no move to cross the distance between them.

He already had her attention once, after all.

Even if it had only been long enough for her to dismiss him.

And he wasn’t about to make it obvious how much that bothered him.

⸻

That afternoon, Elijah sat on the edge of his bed with his phone in hand, staring at her Instagram profile.

He had her name, her face, and enough curiosity to make the situation considerably more complicated than it needed to be.

He could leave her alone.

He could accept that she wasn’t interested.

Instead, he opened their messages.

If she wasn’t going to respond to an anonymous number, perhaps she would respond to someone she actually knew.

Someone harmless.

Someone charming.

Someone who had absolutely nothing to do with the stranger who kept appearing in her notifications.

He began typing.

e.henerson: Hey. You completely ignored me at the party, by the way. Should I be offended? 😉

He paused, considering his next words.

e.henerson: How about we start over?

A moment later, another message followed.

e.henerson: I heard your year has exams coming up with Professor Whitmore. I’ve got some pretty good notes. Figured I could be generous and share them with you. 😉

Elijah read the messages over once before sending them.

Casual. Friendly. A little teasing.

Nothing suspicious.

He wasn’t mentioning the coffee. He wasn’t bringing up the anonymous messages. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell her that he’d been thinking about her far more often than he cared to admit.

To her, he was simply Elijah Henerson: the charming guy from the party who had taken her rejection in stride and was now offering to help her with her exams.

Nothing more.

He locked his phone and tossed it onto the bed, forcing himself to focus on something else.

A few seconds later, he picked it up again.

No reply from the anonymous number.

No reply on Instagram.

Elijah exhaled through his nose, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips.

“Stubborn little thing.”

He should have been annoyed enough to stop trying.

Instead, he found himself wondering which message she had read first.

Whether she’d noticed the coffee.

Whether she’d looked at his Instagram profile.

Whether she was sitting somewhere on campus right now, holding her phone and deciding what to do with him.

He wanted her attention.

Not just from a stranger behind an unknown number, but from the version of himself she could see. The one who smiled, made jokes, and offered her his notes without asking for anything in return.

He wanted a place in her thoughts, even if she didn’t yet know who she was letting in.

And the worst part?

He still didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.

After all, he was only trying to be nice.

A few more days had passed.

A few days in which Elijah Henerson had discovered that being ignored by one particular girl could be far more irritating than any exam, argument, or even Cassian, who had been getting on his nerves since morning.

And that was saying something.

She hadn’t replied to his anonymous messages. She hadn’t mentioned the coffee. And then the number stopped working. She had blocked him.

Elijah stared at his phone, sitting on the edge of his bed. For a few seconds, he did nothing. He simply looked at the notification confirming what he had already suspected.

Then he let out a short laugh.

“Seriously?”

He dragged a hand down his face, tilting his head back.

“Goddamn, girl. You don’t even know me.”

And that was precisely the problem.

She didn’t know him. She had no idea what he was really like. She had no idea how easily he could make an entire room laugh, how quickly he could come up with a comeback to almost any insult, or how rarely anyone actually managed to get under his skin.

And yet, she could cut him off with a single tap.

It should have amused him.

Instead, he felt that familiar sting of irritation.

Not because she’d rejected him. He hadn’t even had the chance to get to know her properly.

It was the fact that she’d decided, all on her own, when their contact was supposed to end.

And Elijah Henerson wasn’t the kind of person who took losing control particularly well.

⸻

“You look terrible.”

Cassian said it without a hint of sympathy as Elijah dropped into the seat beside him in the common room.

“Thank you. I’ve always admired your way with words.”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for ten minutes.”

“Maybe I’m in love.”

Cassian pulled an exaggerated grimace.

“I feel sorry for the girl.”

“We all should. My feelings are an enormous burden.”

Reed snorted with laughter, while Jeremy shook his head.

“It’s that girl again, isn’t it?”

Elijah slowly lifted his gaze.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Right. And I never lie.”

“You lie even when there’s absolutely no reason to.”

“And you’re a hopeless case.”

Elijah flashed a wide grin and immediately launched into a story about how Cassian had nearly set one of the training dummies on fire during their last session.

Everyone burst out laughing.

The conversation moved on. More jokes, more teasing, plans for the evening. Elijah was exactly as he always was: confident, amused, shameless.

Only every now and then, he glanced at his phone.

Jeremy noticed.

Of course he did.

But this time, he didn’t say anything out loud.

⸻

Two days later, flowers appeared outside her door.

Dark red roses tied with a black ribbon. No name on the card. No signature. Just a small note with a single sentence.

For a better day.

Elijah didn’t wait for her to find them. He didn’t want to see her reaction or check whether she smiled.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Later, he left her a small gift — something she might mistake for an ordinary present from a secret admirer. Nothing extravagant. Nothing that would reveal who was behind it.

He wanted her to start wondering.

Who was he? Why did he know where to find her? Why wouldn’t he stop?

He wanted to occupy her thoughts even when she wasn’t looking at her phone.

Even when she wanted nothing to do with him.

In his mind, it almost sounded reasonable.

He wasn’t hurting her.

He was bringing flowers. Leaving gifts. Trying to make contact.

He couldn’t, or simply wouldn’t, admit that she’d never asked for any of it.

⸻

That evening, Elijah sat at his desk, turning his phone over in his hand.

A new number.

For a moment, he stared at the blank screen, wondering whether he should start with a joke this time or try something more direct.

Eventually, he chose the latter.

Unknown Number: You blocked me.

Unknown Number: That’s rude.

Unknown Number: I thought we were making progress.

He sent the messages and set his phone down.

Less than a minute passed before he picked it up again.

No reply.

He added another message.

Unknown Number: You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to talk.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then clenched his jaw.

No. That wasn’t fair.

She could have told him she didn’t want to talk. She could have explained that she wasn’t interested. She could have done any number of things.

But she didn’t have to.

The thought appeared somewhere at the edge of his awareness and disappeared before he could properly consider it.

Instead, he typed one last message.

Unknown Number: Instead, you made me find another way to reach you.

He sent it and leaned back in his chair.

The room was silent. Elijah stared at his phone, the usual lighthearted quality of his smile slowly fading.

He didn’t understand why he cared so much about getting a response from a girl who clearly didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t understand why her silence was beginning to take up more space in his mind than everything else that should have mattered.

And he certainly didn’t want to admit that this had become about more than simple curiosity. Finally, he unlocked his phone one more time and sent a final message.

Unknown Number: Go ahead and block this number, too, sweetheart.

Unknown Number: We both know it won’t be the last one.

Elijah placed his phone on the desk.

This time, he didn’t reach for it immediately.

He sat in silence, convincing himself that she was the one making everything difficult. That if she’d only give him a chance, she’d understand there was nothing to be afraid of.

After all, he was a perfectly nice guy in everyday life. Funny. Charming. Loyal to his friends. Everyone liked him.

Why couldn’t she simply give him one chance?

A week had passed.

A week of unanswered messages, blocked numbers, flowers left outside her door, and small gifts she had never asked for.

Every time she blocked him, he found another way to reach her. Every time she thought she had finally put an end to it, another message appeared from an unfamiliar number.

And then she reported him to the headmaster.

Elijah knew about it.

The news had irritated him more than he cared to admit. Not because he thought she had no right to seek help, but because she had gone to someone else instead of giving him a chance to explain himself.

In his mind, he had tried everything. Messages. Flowers. Gifts. Even coffee.

And she still treated him like a threat.

The thought that she might have a good reason to do so was quickly pushed aside.

He was still Elijah Henerson. The funny one, the charming one, the guy everyone liked. He could ease tension with a single remark, make Cassian laugh in the middle of an argument, and put people at ease without even trying.

He wasn’t about to let one girl ruin the reputation he’d built.

And he certainly wasn’t ready for her to discover who had been behind the anonymous messages.

So he came up with a solution.

Perhaps a stupid one, but Elijah had never been particularly good at recognizing when his own decisions were the problem.

⸻

That evening, a bouquet of deep red roses tied with a black ribbon rested in the hands of a man dressed entirely in black.

A smooth, expressionless mask concealed his face.

He had chosen it carefully. No recognizable features, no visible expression, nothing that could connect the stranger waiting in her room to the blond vampire she knew from the academy.

He hadn’t come as Elijah Henerson. He had come as the person she had been trying so desperately to get rid of.

He knew that showing up as himself could expose him. She might connect the anonymous messages to his real Instagram account, then give the headmaster his name. The next time they crossed paths in the corridors, she might look at him differently.

And Elijah wasn’t ready to lose that version of himself in her eyes. Not yet. The mask gave him a little more time and the illusion that he was still in control.

At least, that was what he told himself.

⸻

When she returned, the room was quiet.

Elijah sat on the edge of her bed as though he had every right to be there, one ankle resting over the opposite knee. The bouquet lay across his lap, the black ribbon contrasting sharply with the deep red petals.

He heard her footsteps long before she reached the door.

Vampire senses had their advantages. The rhythm of approaching footsteps, the faintest sounds, the smallest changes in his surroundings — very little escaped his attention.

When the door opened, he lifted his head.

For a moment, he simply watched her through the mask.

Then he raised the flowers slightly.

“Before you start screaming, I brought you something.” His voice was calm, almost amused. There was no obvious anger or nervousness in it. He sounded like someone arriving for an ordinary meeting, not an intruder who had entered a room without permission.

“Roses,” he added. “Red ones. Figured that was a safe choice.”

He glanced at the bouquet before turning his masked face back toward her.

“Although, if you hate them, you could’ve told me before I went to all this trouble, sweetheart.”

He set the flowers beside him and stood. His movements were fluid and unhurried, almost unnervingly graceful. He made no attempt to approach her, but neither did he make any move to leave. The mask stayed in place.

“Weeks of messages, flowers, gifts...” He let out a theatrical sigh. “And you still ignore me. I’m starting to take it personally.”

Amusement lingered in his voice, as though he were describing a particularly stubborn problem rather than someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

He tilted his head slightly.

“And then you went to the headmaster.”

This time, it didn’t sound like a question.

He knew. Of course he knew.

“That was a little unnecessary, don’t you think?” he asked calmly. “We could’ve just talked.”

As though he hadn’t ignored every boundary she had tried to set.

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone.

A moment later, her own phone vibrated.

Unknown Number: Look at me, pretty. I’m right in front of you.

He lowered his phone and gave a quiet laugh.

“See? We really should work on your communication skills.”

He watched her carefully through the mask. Every shift in her posture, every small movement, drew his attention. He was a vampire — patient, observant, and far more perceptive than he let most people realize.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Everyone at this academy adores me. And you haven’t even given me a chance.”

His gaze shifted to the bouquet resting on the bed.

“Although I have to admit, I’m starting to question the effectiveness of my romantic gestures.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. Then he picked up the roses and held them out toward her.

“Here. This time, you can take them in person.”

A silver ring glinted on his finger as he held the bouquet between them. He made no attempt to close the distance. He simply waited, as though he genuinely believed flowers might change something.

“Maybe then I’ll finally find out why you’re trying so hard to run away from me.”

He tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly.

“Unless you’re afraid that if you gave me five minutes, you might discover I’m not so terrible after all.”

He fell silent for a moment.

“Or, worse, that you might actually like me.”

The amusement in his voice suggested he’d just made a perfectly decent joke. Still, he didn’t look away.

Behind the mask, he remained a stranger. No name, no face, no explanation for how he knew so much about her.

The outstretched bouquet remained between them.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Take the flowers. I don’t bite.” A brief pause. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Make your own.🖤