“Give it back to me!” she yelled.
“When do you use it?” he questioned, eyeing it while she continued to grab it but failed. “Every day? Every other day?”
Something inside her started burning. “Paris, give it back.”
“How does it feel?” he asked curiously. “Inside you?”
She froze, taken aback by the question. “Why?”
His eyes raked her through the mask. “Just curious.”
“You can ask every other girl or go onto a porn site to figure it out, now give me the fucking thing.”
“But porn isn’t real,” he said, “and I don’t know any other girls as interesting as you.”
She drew back in surprise.
“Is there more where this came from?” he asked her, and started shuffling through her drawer.
“Fucking God, Paris!” she yelled, pulling at his arm. “Stop! Get out of there!”
But when she heard the bottom of the drawer shift, she exhaled a curse.
“Ooh,” he said, “what have we here?”
“Get the fuck out of my drawer,” she growled.
“You have a bad mouth,” he commented, shuffling through it. “Eggs, dildos,” he drew back in surprise, “clit vibrator? Wow. You have everything.”
“Paris,” she warned.
“Which one’s your favorite?” Paris said, making her insides catch fire. “I bet you like the pink dildo, don’t you? And then you add the little clit brush on top, huh?”
“That’s not—”
“No?” He stepped a little closer, making her heart race. “Then why were they the only ones not buried, huh?”
His hot stare made her break a sweat.
“Which one’s your favorite?” he repeated.
“What are you doing?” she questioned silently, but for some reason didn’t shy away.
“Testing you,” he answered, making her stomach swell with heat.
“Testing me on what?” she said then.
“How worked up you get when you’re attracted so someone.”
“What?”
She was not attracted to him. She barely even knew him.
“It’s a sickness,” she stated, rubbing her stomach as an indication. “Just feeling a little queasy.”
“You sure it’s not anxiety?” he asked her.
Her eyes rounded slightly. “Why are you saying all these things?”
“Because…” he responded, “you make me curious.”
“Why me?”
“Because you don’t run away from danger.”
She paused. “So… talking to me about my sexual desires is considered dangerous territory? I can assure you that sex and murder are two different things, Paris.”
He just watched her through the mask.
“What?” she said then.
“What you just did,” Paris responded, “when you talk to Ryan about these things… you shy away like a terrified puppy, and then when he pushes you, you get angry and defensive. But I’m doing the same thing and you’re not considering this dangerous territory.”
Oh, God. He was right.
Why was he right?
Her heart beat quickened when he stepped closer, whispering in her ear, “You, Riley, are a very intriguing person.”
He watched her for a moment when he pulled away.
“Riley?” Violet called from the door, making her almost jump.
Paris didn’t look as if he cared, and Riley was tempted to shove him in the closet or tell him to hide, but she didn’t want this moment to be a cliché, so she let him do what he wanted.
“Yeah?” she said back, glancing to find Paris going back to shuffling through the drawer.
He honestly couldn’t care less, could he?
Violet could walk in any moment and find him shuffling through her… toy drawer.
“They’ll be here in two minutes!” Violet said.
“Thanks!”
And her mother’s footsteps padded away in the opposite direction.
“Who?” Paris pressed carefully, standing up now while closing the drawer. “Ryan?”
“No,” Riley responded, “and stop obsessing about him. If you want to fuck him, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. He’s horny as hell.”
Paris gave her an annoyed look, and she saw it from the corner of her eye and smiled.
Two minutes later, Riley and Paris heard loud patting footsteps echoing from the halls, and the door threw open, a tiny little girl running in seconds later.
She jumped at Riley—somewhat startling Paris—and Riley caught her when the little girl giggled excitedly.
“Riley! Riley!” she said. “Yaaaay!”
“Julie,” Riley greeted, hugging her back as she said in a silly voice, “Hi.”
Julie glanced over at Paris, tipping her head to the side. “Who’s he?”
“My friend,” Riley answered, “he likes cosplaying.”
Paris glared at her through his mask.
“Anyway,” she said, setting the girl on the floor, “well, do you want to read more of that book?”
The young girl jumped. “Yes! Yes!”
Riley stepped over to her bookshelf and shuffled through it when she pulled out a small little novel titled, “Black Magic,” and handed it to the girl. She happily took it and ran off.
“You’re really good with kids,” Paris told her, and Riley glanced at him before blushing slightly.
“Thanks.” Her voice was quiet.
“Riley,” he said with urgency in his tone.
She gazed over at him. “Yeah?”
His eyes shone with something dark; as if he knew something was going on inside her. “You’re safe,” he promised.
She gazed at her door, eyes darkening.
She then shook her head. “No,” she said, “no, I’m not.”
And she walked out of the room, not caring that he would probably raid through her stuff.
Paris sighed heavily and jumped out the window, landing softly on the ground before running off to wherever he came from.