Stalked (A Secret Salem Novel)

by J. N. Colon

  I rolled my eyes, but deep down I agreed. If I could be invisible I’d watch them play all day, especially Mac Dav. “Did you take my red hoodie?” I asked when I hadn’t seen one speck of red on the silver bleachers.

  Alyssa ignored me and sighed as she watched Brant remove his white t-shirt, that same gold necklace dangling from his neck and glinting in the overcast afternoon sun. I wondered if Aspen knew about the giant crush her friend had on her boyfriend or that she was out here drooling over him.

  I stepped in front of her to block her view.

  “Hey!” Her makeup caked face screwed up, appalled I would block her view.

  “Did you take my red hoodie?” I repeated, annoyance clear in my voice.

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to peer around me. “What are you talking about?”

  “My red hoodie?” I stuck my hands on my hips, glaring down at her.

  “That stupid red sweatshirt you wear all the time?”

  I nodded.

  “No. Why would I take that? It’s totally ugly.” She shooed me out the way.

  My heart sank and I stepped out of her view, cold disappointment sinking through my veins. My Lone Star Burger Shack hoodie was a piece of home in this dismal, depressing, spooky, and lonely place. I had clung to it, hidden inside of it when I wanted to pretend I was home in sunny, warm Florida. It even smelled like home—sweet coconut and salty sea.

  Now all I could smell was the cold chill of autumn—and loneliness.

  As if it heard my thoughts, the wind blew, sending my hair flying around my face and goose bumps across my flesh. In my haste and anger I ran out the dorm wearing holey jeans and a purple tank top.

  “OMG. That guy is totally checking you out,” Alyssa blurted, interrupting my brooding.

  “Yeah right. Very funny.”

  She vigorously tugged my hand until I crashed on the bleachers next to her, my butt feeling the sting of the cold metal. “I’m serious.” She leaned closer and motioned with her eyes toward the court. “He’s the one dribbling the ball.”

  I followed her line of vision and found the one boy I didn’t know, his gaze flickering away as he shot a pass to Tristan.

  “His name is Jackson,” Alyssa explained, a sly smile twisting her pink glossed lips. “He’s from Jenkins Hall, but…” She shrugged. “For you that’s okay.”

  “Thanks.” Sarcasm was thick in my voice, but I was pretty sure she didn’t pick up on it. My eyes trailed over Jackson, taking in his tall and lean swimmer’s body as he skillfully moved on the court. Cropped auburn brown hair flopped around his flushed face and danced in a pair of soft, whiskey colored eyes. Tiny dots of freckles smattered his nose in a cute, boy-next-door kind of way.

  He wasn’t drop dead, tongue drooling, knee quaking yummy like McCollum, but there was no denying he was a hottie.

  As if he heard my thoughts, his eyes flicked in my direction, a boyish grin forming over his face before turning back to the game.

  Alyssa nudged me. “See! I told you he was checking you out. He just did it again.”

  Pink spread across my cheeks despite the cold. “He was just looking over here. It didn’t mean he was looking at me specifically.” Although a tiny part of me was hoping he was.

  “You are so socially slow Rubiks. Jackson’s not even paying attention to the game anymore.” Her raven curls were tossed as she jerked her head in his direction, pointing out that he was simply standing away from the action, watching me.

  I quickly averted my gaze as my face flamed, unconvinced he was looking at me for any other reason than to make fun of me like most of the kids here.

  Alyssa nudged me with her knee. “He’s still looking.” Her singsong voice was filled with giggles.

  I glanced up from between my lashes, expecting to see that Jackson had moved on with the game, uninterested in me. Instead his hand was lifting, on the verge of waving at me.

  Holy frijoles he really was looking at me!

  The basketball suddenly went hurtling toward him, smashing him in the chest with a hollow thud. Alyssa and I winced as he doubled over in pain, grabbing his torso.

  Deep, rich laughter rumbled across the court, the sound sending tiny currents of electricity down my spine. “Dude, you should have seen your face.” McCollum’s head tilted back again for another laugh.

  Jackson flashed him a sarcastic expression. “Thanks.” He rubbed his chest. “You’re supposed to be on my team.”

  “I am.” He held out his hands for the ball, hands that I imagined would feel like heaven holding me. “I was trying to get your head back in the game instead of on the girls.”

  Alyssa giggled and curled a glossy raven lock around her finger. I on the other hand shivered from the cold.

  “Rubiks. I didn’t know you were over there.” Brant unsuccessfully tried to steal the ball from McCollum.

  My lip curled in contempt, instantly annoyed by his attention.

  “You look a little cold. You want me to come warm you up?” His mouth spread into that crocodile smile.

  I groaned and rolled my eyes, hoping he would take the hint.

  Alyssa surveyed me from the corner of her eye as if afraid to let Brant out of her sight. “Damn. I wish I would have thought of that.” She motioned toward my bare arms. “It would look obvious if I took my sweater off now.”

  I blinked at her ridiculous accusation. Like I wanted to be cold. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Sure Rubiks.”

  My brows furrowed in confusion, wondering why the hell I was still sitting here, taking abuse from the popular kids when my favorite hoodie was nowhere in sight. I abruptly stood and descended the bleachers, more frustrated than I was when I began the search for my little piece of home.

  The boys resumed their game and I trudged toward the grove of trees, feeling stupid for even attempting to ask Alyssa who was probably involved in stealing it in the first place.

  Something warm trickled down my back and my feet halted before I could even contemplate what was happening. I glanced over my shoulder to find McCollum holding me in that spellbinding stare while the others were busy arguing over a foul shot. My breath ceased as my heart pulverized my ribcage so loud and violently I was certain he could hear it. A swarm of butterflies danced in my stomach and heat crept up my throat until I was no longer cold.

  How could a look—all be it a very long, intense look—effect another so much? I felt like I was going to face plant into the ground at any moment. I wasn’t even breathing.

  Finally I was able to suck a lungful of air in as he jerked his chin toward a tree on my left. Oxygen rushed through my brain and it took a moment to catch on to what he was signaling. He did it again and this time I followed his line of vision to find my red hoodie dangling from a low-lying branch.

  Relief flooded my chest as I spun around and jumped for it, triumphantly retrieving it. I was so happy I wanted to hold it up and do a little dance. Thankfully I remembered who had pointed me in the correct direction and stopped myself before I looked like a complete loser.

  McCollum was strutting toward the middle of the court, his lithe movements so fascinating I couldn’t tear my eyes away. When he glanced over his shoulder he caught me staring, but instead of laughing or shooting me a nasty glare, a secret smile curled those lush, kissable lips.

  ***

  “Crap,” I muttered when I realized my biology book was still sitting in the bottom of my locker, collecting dust. It was Sunday evening and I had a Mack’s truck worth of homework I probably should have started yesterday.

  After an hour of looking for Aspen’s I gave up and figured she probably paid someone to do her homework. I trekked my way across campus through the grove of trees and inexplicable swirling fog to the building that held my locker, praying it was open.

  For once luck was shining down on me and I easily pulled the door open. I strode through the deserted corridor, my Chuck Taylors echoing dully on the hardwood floor the only sound. During school hou
rs the halls were filled with students or in the very least voices from behind the thick wooden classroom doors. Now? Silence and darkness stretched for what seemed like miles, heavy and oppressive. The sparse electric sconces mounted to the walls did nothing to alleviate the shadows creeping around me. I swallowed hard as warning tingles ran down my nape, the sensation of being watched settling over me.

  My feet scurried to my locker, thinking—hoping—I was simply being paranoid and letting my imagination run wild. But something deep inside me told me there was a reason my hair was standing on end and it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

  A volatile mixture of panic and adrenaline sank through my veins, forcing tremors through my hands as I twisted the combination on my locker. Finally after what felt like eons the click of the lock releasing resonated and I yanked the door open.

  Or at least I tried. It didn’t budge. My brows knit as I tried again with the same results as before. Nada.

  “What the hell?” That was becoming my go to phrase when encountering the unexplainable at Highland.

  My fear completely forgotten, I struggled with the metal door, trying with all my might to wrench it open without success. I gritted my teeth and pulled even harder, my fingers now slick with perspiration slipped off and my body went stumbling backwards. I expected my ass to meet the hard floor again, but instead I crashed into something warm and solid, thick arms steadying me.

  “Whoa!” That one word was spoken in a voice I’d recognize even in my sleep, a voice that was smoother than chocolate mousse and as rich as lobster and Kobe steak.

  My head slowly turned, knowing exactly who I’d find and yet I was still shocked to be faced with those hypnotic jade eyes. This up close they were even more electrifying and captivating, holding me in a welcomed trance of warm green waters.

  McCollum Davenport. Mac Dav.

  I was prepared for his looks having studying him like a test subject from afar, but I had no idea the fury my other senses would be thrown into the moment we came in contact. His scent—like an untouched forest in the peak of night and something else wild and heady—crashed over me, stealing my sanity and weakening my knees. It was a good thing he was holding me up otherwise I would have melted into the floor.

  And that was another problem in itself. Everywhere he touched set fires off across my skin, sinking right through my bloodstream like a drug. His body nearly enveloped mine, pulling me into a warm, mysterious, and intoxicating sanctuary I never knew I needed until this moment.

  “You all right Rubi?”

  I blanched and I was certain my jaw was hanging open like a simpleton. He just called me Rubi. Not Rubiks Moon-Gem or Rubiks or freak. Just Rubi.

  My mouth—and brain—had apparently lost all function so all I could do was stare up at him, memorizing his features because I was certain this was the first and last time I’d ever be this close.

  Oh man, he looked like something that just stepped off the pages of Abercrombie, but without all those pretentious, constipated expressions. He didn’t need to try to look sexy. He was sexy.

  His aristocratic face was filled with sharp angles and ridges that not even Michelangelo could sculpt. Contrasting soft, lush lips glistened in the dim, almost nonexistent light of the once spooky and now hot corridor. His hair could have been constructed out of a midnight sky, twisted and woven with the most expensive silk the world had ever created. The locks were an untamed mess around his face, several pieces falling around those glowing jade eyes I couldn’t tear myself away from. Thick, inky lashes framed them like delicate curtains to the windows of his soul.

  His supple lips twitched, a crooked smile hitching up on one side. “Cat got your tongue?”

  Something that was a cross between a sigh and a nervous laugh bubbled out of my mouth, turning my cheeks the color of blood in embarrassment.

  Instead of making fun of me or laughing at my expense, McCollum twisting me around until I was facing him, my head having to crane far back to be able to look into his face. One single dark brow arched questioningly. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No,” I blurted more forcefully than I meant, making cheeks burn a deeper shade of crimson if that was possible. “I-um… I…” Oh man, he probably thought I was an idiot. I licked my lips, trying to moisten them.

  His gaze flicked to my mouth, lingering over it for several ragged, loud beats of my heart. Neither of us moved, but I swear we were somehow closer, his chest pressed against mine and warm fingers digging into my upper arms.

  I’d give anything to know what he tasted like.

  As if he heard my thoughts, his head tilted a fraction of an inch closer. And then as if he realized what he was doing he backed away, his own cheeks gaining a touch of pink. His hands released me, but instead of dropping away, they slowly ran down both of my arms, shooting pinpricks of hot sensations through my skin.

  Holy ham hocks! Did he just do that or did I image the whole delicious thing?

  Mac gestured toward my locker. “Having a little trouble opening that?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed, my voice not quite working yet. “I need my biology book.”

  “Let me try.” The lopsided grin returned, giving no indication he would laugh at my behavior. “What’s your combo?”

  I leaned against the lockers next to him, my heart still thrumming wildly. “24, 11, 5, 7.”

  His giant hand twisted the lock back and forth with deft fingers before tugging on the door, a frown replacing that smile when nothing happened. “That’s weird.”

  “Yep.”

  He tried it again without success, his brow furrowing in frustration. His jade eyes flickered in my direction, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. He eventually gave a noncommittal shrug and pulled at the locker door, a keening, ear piercing sound filling the halls as he finally wrenched it open.

  My mouth dropped, staring at the now slightly bent metal door, wondering how he could have managed ripping it open. My gaze lingered over his tall, muscled form and remembered the way those sinewy muscles on his arms bulged when he tossed the guys around playing rugby.

  I supposed he was strong enough to pry open a flimsy metal door… “Uh…thanks?”

  McCollum didn’t notice my questioning tone, his eyes focused on the edge of my locker as his finger stroked down it. Whatever he felt forced a grimace across his expression. “Looks like someone glued it closed.”

  Utter humiliation slammed me in the chest, literally knocking me into the next locker. I wanted to bury my head in a mountain of sand and die.

  He flashed me a grin as if he wasn’t witness to my mortification. “I guess who ever did it is going to be pretty surprised tomorrow morning when you have no problem opening it.”

  A weight lifted off my shoulders and I laughed, feeling dizzy. “Right.”

  “Glad I could help Rubi.”

  “Me too,” I breathed, mentally rolling my eyes at how stupid I sounded.

  Mac’s smile only grew and he did something so unexpected I almost fell out. He touched his index finger to my one, lonesome dimple. “That is so cute.”

  There was no stopping the silly giggle from slipping out of my mouth.

  “I’ll see you around Rubi,” he said strutting down the hall, throwing a surreptitious glance over his shoulder and winking one of those glowing jade eyes.

  I dumbly stared after him, wondering if I had just made up the whole incident in my mind because it was entirely too unbelievable to be true. My hand reached up, feeling my dimple, the spot still warm from his touch.

  That same stupid smile remained plastered to my face while I floated to my dorm, the thick darkness and chilly air doing nothing to bring me down.

  Mac Davenport just flirted with me. And he called me Rubi! Those dark jade eyes, that midnight hair, that flawless pale skin, and that lickable muscles!

  My audible giggle echoed through the dark grounds, contrasting dramatically with the spooky atmosphere. I continued ambling alo
ng, lost in warm, fuzzy daydreams about Mac, which was probably why I didn’t see the object I tripped over and before I knew it I ended up face first in a pile of stale, crunchy leaves.

  “What the hell?” I spit leaves from my mouth and rolled over, spying an awkward lump lying in the giant shadows of an oak tree. My brows met as I struggled into a sitting position, a slick substance rubbing between my fingers. I lifted my hands, the silvery moonlight glinting off something dark coating my hands—something red.

  I gasped in realization.

  Blood. My hands were covered in blood.

  My flesh exploded with goose bumps and heart stamped out a violent beat like angry tribal music. I swallowed hard, unable to dislodge the lump of panic from my throat. It was an injured animal…right? Nothing else would make sense.

  I reluctantly crawled closer, stopping to wipe the cold sweat from my brow, but thought better of it when I remember the blood smearing my hands. Dark curls flowed around the head, matted in places and splashes of wetness reflected in the moonlight on the leaves. I reached a trembling hand out and rolled the thing over.

  My stomach lurched and a scream froze in my throat. I blinked, attempting to clear the gruesome scene before my eyes to no avail. It was still there, worse with every flutter of my lids.

  It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be real.

  But the rotten stench of death told me how real it was.

  Alyssa lay twisted and broken, her hazel eyes staring listlessly at the dark autumn sky. The girl I had a conversation with just yesterday on the bleachers was dead. She was the girl I saw flirting with Trevor and Brant earlier today. She was the girl whose skin always held a slight tint of orange—except in death. She was ghostly pale now.

  A gust of wind blew, swaying the oak branches and with reluctant moaning and creaking they parted to allow a patch of moonlight through. It was as if Mother Nature wanted me to see what really happened to Alyssa.

  The feeling wasn’t mutual.

  The scream that had frozen in my throat moments ago was now attempting to claw its way out my esophagus, leaking dry, harsh gasps from my mouth. Splashes of shining, wet blood littered her ashen skin and her throat was completely torn out. A whole chunk the size of my fist was missing!