Page 18 of Twisted Little Game

Talking so fucking much.

I’m just comfortable talking to people. Try it sometime. Also, if you put yourself in my phone as my guardian angel, what am I in your phone as?

Blondin.

Is that some kind of dessert?

”Blond” in Russian, Tate.

I wait a few more minutes, listening to the sound of the crickets and gazing at his figure before I finally shove my phone away and get up. I head into the dorm, heading upstairs.

3

Roman

For the first few days that Tate is on campus, tailing him feels too easy.

I get up early the next few mornings.

I sit on one of the wooden benches across the lawn from the Wallendorf dorms to see when he heads out, and I do what I do best, watching him like a stalker would. I need to get into the mind of what his real stalker could be capable of.

His blond hair is always easy to spot.

Sometimes he wears bright neon green or pink tank tops, like he’s trying to be seen.

The beast inside me wants to hunt.

Chase him down.

Take him like I’m a wolf and he’s a fucking gazelle, because I know exactly how easy it would be to overtake him.

But he gives me no chase.

Following him is so easy it puts me to sleep. Tate isn’t even being careful, the fool.

He comes out of his dorm around nine each day. He goes for a run in a long loop around campus, the same run that many of my Onyx Society brothers make all the time. He always wears tank tops. His class schedule is simple to memorize, with a course in the language building in the morning and two in the general studies building in the afternoon. He listens to music as he walks down hallways in the buildings, an earbud in one ear, humming along to melodies with a surprisingly good voice.

The first day I follow him, my curiosity is mild.

With each passing day, it grows stronger.

Because I don’t fucking believe him.

So far, Tate’s been acting like a perfect angel, and I’m starting to think it’s an act.

He never once looks back toward me when I’m following him. Not that I would try to hide myself if he did.

Is he hiding something?

Or… maybe just waiting for the right moment to flee?

His brother told me he wouldn’t enjoy having a bodyguard, and that he would try to slip out from under me whenever he could. But so far, he hasn’t seemed to do a single thing out of place.

It feels like I’m playing a game.

Waiting for his move.

Joke’s on you.