She stood in the shower, for what seemed like hours, the soap on her skin felt so good.
Slowly she trailed the soap slippery and wet in a smooth path over skin.
Basking in the scent of vanilla and chocolate, her mind betrayed her with one taunting thought: You want it so bad. She gasped, water spluttering off her face from the shower. She turned it off and stepped out of the shower.
Trying to dwell too much on the lotion to avoid further abominable thoughts.
Frida sat cross-legged on her bed brainstorming for hours, the two red notes laid out in front of her like evidence in a criminal investigation. The first note: "I can pleasure you like that." The second: "You want it so bad."
Her eyes scanned the words again, frustration bubbling in her chest.
The handwriting wasn't identical. The cursive styles were distinct enough to tell her that whoever was behind this didn't want to be easily tracked.
Even in the cold air-conditioned room, her body was hot with the thought.
They were playing with her, deliberately keeping her guessing.
With a groan, Frida threw herself back against her pillow, pressing it over her face to muffle a scream. She needed answers.
Her mind drifted to Laz his infuriating smirk, the way he always seemed to know just how to get under her skin.
Was it him? It was ridiculous to even consider, but she couldn't shake the thought.
"Great," she muttered to herself. "Now I have to talk to him. Again."
She let the pillow slide off her face, staring up at the ceiling. Confronting Laz would probably come across as a flimsy excuse to get his attention. Still, she had to know.
The next day, Frida walked past the basketball court on campus, her determination faltering the moment she saw him.
Laz was perched on the bleachers, leaning back casually with his elbows resting on the seat behind him.
His shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his chest, and his skin glistened under the sunlight.
Frida froze mid-step, the water bottle in her hand suddenly feeling heavier. If sweat has ever looked that good...
Her heart raced, her skin prickling under his gaze. Heat spread like wildfire from her neck to her cheeks. She quickly backed up a step, trying to compose herself. She fanned her face with her free hand, then took a long gulp of water.
"Count to ten," she whispered to herself.
One... two...
By the time she reached ten, she felt steady enough to approach him. Her sneakers crunched against the gravel as she walked up to the bleachers.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to mask her uneven breaths.
Laz's closed eyes cracked open, revealing those stormy grey depths that always seemed to pull her in.
He blinked slowly, his lashes ridiculously long, like he hadn't heard a single word she said.
Frida's cheeks burned as his gaze lazily trailed over her.
Starting with her hair, then moving to her eyes, her nose, her lips, and then down to her neck. His eyes lingered there for a beat too long before dropping lower, grazing over the curve of her...
Her mouth went dry, her pulse raced, and she lost her trail of thought for a moment before shaking it off.
"Did you hear me?" she snapped, her voice higher than she intended.
Laz's lips curled into a faint smirk, but before he could respond, a voice shouted from the court.
"Yo, Ziel, get back on the court!"
It was Zack, his best friend. Laze stood without a word, his towering height making Frida feel impossibly small.
He looked down at her for half a second, then turned and walked away, heading toward the court without even a backward glance.
Frida stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Zack jogged over, his grin wide but his tone anything but friendly. "Last I checked, you're the one who made the no-speaking rule between you and Ziel," he said with a mocking smile. "So, back off, bestie."
Frida stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Zack leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to sound menacing. "Stop embarrassing yourself, hon. He won't speak to you. You don't exist to him anymore."
Before she could muster a reply, Zack turned and jogged back to the court, leaving her standing there, stunned and furious.
Frida scoffed, biting down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from yelling something she'd regret. She turned on her heel and marched away, the humiliation stinging like a slap.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she replayed Zack's words. You don't exist to him anymore.
But that wasn't true. It couldn't be true.
Her thoughts raced as she made her way back to her dorm.
She'd confronted Laz, but the encounter had only left her with more questions.
The way his eyes had lingered on her, the smirk that seemed to hold some secret meaning.
It all felt deliberate, calculated. She clutched her chest as if to steady the storm brewing inside her.
"Why did he look at me like that?"