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CHAPTER 10: GIRL, GIRLS, GIRLSS?
[ ALICE DUCHESNE ]
Alice sat at her desk, face in her hands, in relative darkness. The large smart tint windows of her corner office were obscured and the lights kept dimmed to spare her sensitive eyes. She’d come to work from a sleepless night spent staring at her bedroom ceiling. A testament to her exhaustion was the aching bags under her eyes, which no amount of concealer seemed able to hide. She’d entered the W Inc. Tower an hour ago but had so far failed to do anything productive.
Even now, her mind kept replaying the abrupt transformation of her daughter’s new friend from a quirky but harmless girl into a vicious psychotic killing machine. Even rationalising it all was just a game—players killed each other every day in games—the cruel and deliberate manner in which the girl had tortured and executed her victim still made Alice feel queasy. There was something deeply, dangerously wrong with that girl. Alice just knew it.
Her daughter’s reaction was also puzzling. Alice had expected her to freeze as she usually did at the sight of blood. Sometimes, violence alone was enough to trigger one of her fits. Although she’d improve leaps and bounds since she’d started playing Untold Tales, the brutal murder of her parents right in front of her eyes as a child had left her understandably scarred.
However, the young woman had remained unexpectedly calm during the whole ordeal at the Library. She’d look shocked, a little sick and a lot concerned, but this was all a far cry from the crippling horror that usually seized her.
After the madness was over, Athena had merely collected Victoria’s body and left very quickly without giving much in the way of explanation. All she’d mumble to an inquisitive Leegil was she’d “rather not talk about it right now,” already retreating behind the impenetrable barrier she’d erected around herself over the years—a barrier this improbable psychotic girl seemed to sweep through without even trying.
If Alice had to be honest with herself, she was jealous.
Ultimately, this was the reason she’d not tried to leverage her motherly authority to get her daughter away from this deranged person. Unable to say a word, Leegil had watched Athena’s broad back walk out of the room, hunched as she carried the corpse of her friend, their odd toy dog trotting after her. She’d barely reacted when a grumpy janitor had come in, grumbling about the mess.
In her office, Alice picked a framed picture on her desk. Her tired, prickly eyes took in the smiling couple posing in front of the Indian Ocean. The woman’s natural tan shimmered in the bright sun, her long black hair floating freely in the ocean breeze. The man, in contrast, looked like an overcooked lobster that somehow got stretched into human shape and forced to wear a blond wig.
Both were grinning like fools. Alice had to fight back the tears that would have messed her makeup. She wiped the corners of her eyes with the side of her hand. I’m so sorry. I messed up everything. I’m not cut to be a parent. She had always been a math-head, like her brother, but she lacked Stephan’s innate likeability. And Madhuri, her brother’s wife, had radiated love like the sun radiated warmth. She always talked about the children she would have, and after each of the girls’ birth, she had been almost deliriously happy. Alice couldn’t match that kind of positivity.
She slowly and distractedly stroked the faces in the picture, especially the woman who looked so much like her daughters. Stephan had given both girls the Duchesnes’ often mercurial temper, but their appearances were all Madhuri, if slightly paler. Her brother’s wife herself had only been half-Indonesian. Even after all those years, it was hard for Alice, sometimes, not to see her late best friend in the two girls she was struggling to properly mother.
A knock at her door forced Alice back to the present. She set the frame down and tried to compose herself a presentable façade. Turning to her computer, she made herself look busy before calling out for the person to enter.
Jerry Jackson, her mousy secretary, carefully stepped into the office. His entire posture was guarded as he squinted to pierce the low light. In a moment of tired lucidity, Alice wondered if she really was such a dragon to her subordinates. She repressed a sigh. “Yes, what is it, Jackson?” she asked curtly.
The short man flinched. “Ah! Err, yes… the-the-the weekly assessment reports… They nee-need to-to be…” Alice couldn’t hear the last part, as his speech dissolved into an inaudible stutter. But she could guess what he meant to say. The reports were “weekly” for a reason. She repressed another sigh. The young man wasn’t a bad secretary. He’d do well for himself, in fact, if he only could get over that crippling shyness of his.
Alice rubbed her eyebrows. “Understood, I will…” her voice trailed off, as she considered the figurative mountain of work sitting inside her computer. “Jackson, why don’t you fill them out yourself, this time? You know the numbers.”
The man nervously nodded. He looked equally shocked, terrified, and hopeful. It was kind of cute, actually. “Boss, you… you’d t-trust me with that?”
“Sure…” she drawled, trying to remember if she’d ever shown a lack of confidence in the young man’s abilities. Yes, she advocated strictness and felt a certain need to be in control, but she’d never meant to undermine her subordinates. “Just send me the finished reports. I’ll go over them later.” Feeling it couldn’t hurt, she added, “You do good work, Jackson. You wouldn’t have kept your job for as long as you did otherwise… I’m sure there are plenty of rumours floating around the office on how I threw my last secretary out the window.” She ignored Jackson’ fearfully shaking head. “Or was it that I nailed him to the front door of the building? The point is, I don’t suffer incompetence gladly. You’re not incompetent, Jackson, are you?” She raised a neatly trimmed eyebrow.
“N-No, ma’am!” For a moment, Alice almost thought the man was about to salute.
“Then get to work. I want these reports in my mail by tomorrow.” She turned her gaze to the computer… screensaver, implicitly dismissing him.
“Y-Yes, Miss Duchesne! I won’t disappoint you!” The young man nearly tripped over himself retreating out of her office.
Before he could leave, however, shouts and noises reminiscent of an angry rhinoceros charging inside a furniture store filtered in through the open door. With the inner window currently set to opaque, she couldn’t see what was happening in the open space outside her office, but from the sounds of it, she could hazard a good guess.
“Leave the door open a second, please, Jackson.” Alice stopped pretending to be engrossed in her dolphin screensaver and looked up just in time to see Edward Dabbler barge into her office, ring-eyed, shirt slightly wrinkled, and droopy hair lacking its usual artificial tousle. To people unfamiliar with the man, he might have looked relatively composed. But to Alice, who knew just how important his appearance was to him, the HR Director might as well be prancing around in his underwear and frothing at the mouth.
She made eye contact with her nervous secretary and nodded for him to leave. Dabbler noticed the exchange, and he barely waited for the door to click shut before acting like his usual charming self. “Still haven’t thrown the faggot out the window?” A contemptuous sneer wrapped his normally—as much as it pained Alice to admit—handsome face.
Unbidden, a memory from the previous day surfaced in her mind. “I’m staring at a dipshit who made his avatar look like the gross crossbred between a cheap gigolo and the obscene wet fantasy of a salacious, lonely and severely brain-damaged teenage minx.” Alice had to stifle an unexpected snort. Fact was, Edward Dabbler’s vampiric avatar looked almost exactly like his real self, with an added unearthly flair.
Unaware of his colleague’s thoughts, Dabbler was still talking, “Maybe this explains things. You do have a type, after all. The kind that won’t ever touch you. Or does the fag actually lick your frigid dried up cunt?”
Utterly stoic, Alice adjusted the position of a lonely pen parallel to the edge of her desk pad before answering coolly. “I assume you didn’t come here to insult my secretary with lawsuit-worthy slurs. Speak your point.”
“I want her name!”
“Whose?”
“You know who! That psycho bitch your dyke of a daughter is fucking!”
Despite her rising fury, Alice’s tone remained perfectly neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t know the young lady’s name. We were just introduced yesterday. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Now, if that’s all, please vacate my office. Some of us have actual work to do. You do know sexually harassing interns isn’t your real job, do you?” She couldn’t resist a disdainful jab.
“The little whore cheated! You saw it. There’s no way a new character could best me like this. By protecting her, you’re working against the best interests of the company, Alice. When I prove the little slut’s guilt, I’ll be taking you down for complicity.”
“Well, if you suspect foul play, I suggest you take your complaint to Mr Hatter. And for the last time, don’t presume you can use my first name.”
In fact, Alice had her own theory about Victoria’s abilities. [Ancient Runes] was a very time-consuming skill to learn, which indicated an experienced player. And at this point, aside from extremely rare divine intervention, there existed only one way for an experienced player to switch to a newly unlocked race without resetting their character. They must have unlocked the race themselves. Dabbler wasn’t stupid. He would figure it out eventually, once he calmed down a bit.
How Alice would love to be a fly on the wall when that sick egomaniac realised he’d antagonised the one player who could seriously shake his little empire. A small smirk threatened to take over Alice’s mouth, but again she quickly suppressed it. “If that’s all, Dabbler, the door’s right there.” She turned back to the happy dolphins swimming on her computer screen, dismissing the HR Director as if he were a subordinate.
She could hear his teeth grinding across the room. “This isn’t over, Alice!”
“Oh, but it is. I will also file a formal harassment complaint. I warned you to stop speaking to me so casually.” He wouldn’t be worried over such a flimsy reason, but every stain on his record was one she could leverage for his firing when he finally crossed one line too many. “Good day, Dabbler.”
Dabbler’s frustrated cry was interrupted when he slammed the door open. He looked about to storm out with the same bulldozer subtlety as his entrance, but he suddenly froze at the sight of the expressionless goth girl standing just outside the door.
The teenager ignored him to look at Alice. “Is everything alright? Someone reported to security about a rabid howler monkey loose on this floor.” The biting, sarcastic tone never reflected on her darkly made-up face.
Alice allowed herself a very slight smile. “Everything’s fine, Eins. Probably one of Mr Kurotora’s pets escaped again.” The girl nodded once.
At last, she turned to Dabbler, seemingly taking notice of him only now. “Oh, Mr Ed. Drei wanted to know if Cornelia was free to play this afternoon.”
The smile that curved up Dabbler’s mouth was so forced it looked painful. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he spoke through gritted shiny white teeth. “Yes, of course. I’m sure she’ll be delighted too. And please transmit my thanks to the CEO that you’re taking such good care of my daughter while I’m busy.”
“Uncle is on a business trip to Japan. I’ll tell him when he gets back.”
“Of course. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Dabbler nodded then strode out. After one last look at Alice, the girl soon followed.
A moment later, Jackson peeked in through the door left open. “A-Are you alright, ma’am?”
“I’m better, yes. Thank you.” And to her surprise, Alice discovered she did mean it.
As much as she remained extremely concerned, anyone who could upset that slimy dickhead into such a state couldn’t be all bad. Then there was the fact her daughter had seemed livelier than any time over the past three years. Alice would give the suspicious girl the benefit of the doubt. Although, she’d keep a watchful eye on how things developed. I should give Hellen a call, she mused.
She suddenly noticed Jackson was still hovering at the door. One slender blond eyebrow arched up. “Didn’t I give you reports to fill?”
“Y-Yes, ma’am!” He disappeared, and Alice’s lips hooked into another fleeting smile.
* * *
[ YASMIN JAKANDE ]
Yasmin finished jogging up the stairs, reaching the outdoor pathway of the fifth floor. The morning sun was low on the city skyline; sparse clouds filled the grey sky; mist clung to the pavement; the temperature struggled to bust out of the single digits. Her hoodie and knitted cap protected her from the cold, but her breath condensed before her mouth, and the icy air hurt her throat and lungs. Not that she minded. Every ache from exerting her body made her feel more alive.
However, today, she wasn’t in the mood to enjoy her morning run. She was a woman on a crusade, out to remove a hermitic dragon from his cave. She slowed down as she reached the last door on the pathway, popping her earbuds out. She tried the doorknob. It was locked. Eyes narrowing, she fetched her keys and let herself in.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Darkness greeted her. She flicked a switch, but nothing happened. Fuck, Nick. I told you to replace the damn light. Proceeding deeper into the dark apartment, she peered inside the bedroom. The darkness was even thicker in here, with the dim touch-screen of the gamepod as the only source of light. “Nick? You in there?” This time, the light switched produced a result, revealing an empty room filled with all sorts of knickknacks. The Martian alarm clock stared back at her with huge, reflective black eyes. The bed was undone, and the VR pod was open—no one inside.
Maybe he’s out? That’d be good news, at least. That would mean he wasn’t shutting himself inside again. Still, she’d have to wait for him to come back. Yasmin knew better than anyone how Nick sometimes needed time alone, but after the disappearing act he’d pulled at Hope’s birthday party, she’d made it very clear she wouldn’t tolerate another unexplained radio silence. So when he’d failed to answer her messages or pick up her calls for two days straight, finally the time for warnings was over.
As she stood in the empty bedroom, Yasmin’s gaze was attracted to the quietly humming pod. The device had been left in standby mode, the small outside screen flashing with notifications. Curiosity got the better of herself, and Yasmin stepped carefully over collectable goodies, half-finished Lego-models, and clothes in transit, both clean and dirty. She thought, if she discovered what Nick had been doing in Untold Tales, maybe she might figure out why his behaviour had been so erratic lately.
…Well, more erratic than usual.
Yasmin had reached the pod and was about to look at the screen when a voice from behind startled her. “What are you doing?” She spun, already in a fighting stance, before her mind recognised the owner of the voice.
Nick stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, in an old worn t-shirt and dull grey sweatpants. His brown hair hung limply and disorderly on his scalp, greasier than he’d usually allow. His face was pale, making the dark ring under his eyes stand out. His mouth laid flat, lacking its usual half-smile lift and surrounded by two-day stubble.
Quickly getting over her surprise, Yasmin squared her shoulder to make herself more imposing than she truly was. She turned away from the gamepod and walked back across the messy room. “It was dark, and you weren’t in bed. I thought you were out.”
“I was on the couch. I haven’t slept too well. I thought maybe it’d be more comfortable.” There was a stillness in his tone and expression that unnerved her.
“Dan said you didn’t show up in class. You missed a test.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
From up close, she finally could take a good look at his eyes. There was a danger there, lurking at the back, something that wasn’t entirely civilised and barely contained. Yasmin knew about it. She’d seen it before. It usually laid hidden, caged behind layers of humour and silliness. But life and stress had a way to peel off those protective layers.
Still, last time she’d seen Nick in such a state was after the J-bitch, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, dumped him like a smelly used sock. That aftermath had been ugly. Some nights, Yasmin still woke up from dreams where she strangled the backstabbing cunt.
Those were the dreams where she played nice.
“You haven’t been answering your phone.”
“Yeah… I’m not sure where I dropped it. It must be somewhere in here,” he answered without looking away from her face, barely nodding towards his room. “The battery’s probably dead.”
“Figured. Well, I bothered to drop here before the gym opened to make sure you made it to training. So get your things. I want to be back and get some warmups in before the first people arrive and I need to help dad.”
Nick didn’t move. “I quit last summer.”
“Actually, you didn’t. We agreed to give you some space, but we never cancelled your membership. Now it’s been months, and I was going to come and say you’d been well enough to come back…” Her voice hardened. “But now that I see you, I’m not asking. You come with me to the dojo. Now.”
A small smile finally lifted his mouth, but she didn’t like it. He leant forwards.
“Make me.”
Yasmin yanked him inside the room and shoved him against the wall before he could react. He gasped, but she pressed her forearm against his throat, strangling his groan to a wheeze. She had to look up to meet his eyes, but that didn’t stop her from staring him down.
“Listen here, Pennywise. You may be older and taller than me, but I’ve been wiping the floor with you since I was seven, and I can still do it. So you don’t give me sass. You don’t look at me with those dead fish eyes. And when I say ‘jump’, you ask me ‘off which bridge?’ Understood?” He didn’t reply, staring silently at her, so she shoved him again and pushed her arm harder in his throat. “Understood?”
Another minute of stare-off passed. Eventually, Nick’s shoulders sagged, and his frozen expression melted with a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Yasmin nodded and released him. “So get yourself cleaned up so we can get going.”
“Sure. I’ll get my stuff…. I’m sure they’re…” He looked around his messy bedroom and sighed again, “…somewhere.” He cracked his neck, then smelled the inside of his shirt. “I need a shower.”
“Be quick.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a mock salute, but the gesture lacked any of his typical energy. Yasmin shook her head, unsure of what to do.
“I wonder if…” Leaving the bedroom, she headed to the submarine-themed bathroom. She made a beeline for the cabinet above the copper sink and quickly found what she was looking for. A large bottle of pills sat on the top shelf. She had to stand on her toes to grab it. Giving a shake, she estimated it half-full. A quick mental calculation told her it ought to be at least three-quarter empty. A deep, frustrated frown furrowed her brows.
Hearing the sound of the bedroom door closing, she quickly put the bottle back in place and exited the bathroom, passing Nick on the threshold. “Be quick,” she repeated before he could ask what she was doing again. She shut the door behind her, the lockless panel bouncing once before settling close.
Once more alone in the dark hallway, she thought of going back to Nick’s room to search through his gaming history—maybe find a few screenshots, anything that could give her a hint as to what was going on.
She ultimately decided against it. In his current state, there was no telling how Nick would react to any infringement of his privacy. In fact, anyone but her who’d have been found snooping in his room uninvited wouldn’t have been so casually forgiven—not even Yasmin’s brother.
Although Nick would never admit it out loud, Dan’s esteem mattered a lot to him. He would never allow Dan to see him at his lowest or glimpse at his darkest secrets.
Yasmin was different, partially because she didn’t ask to be let in—she demanded—and partially because she already knew too much. It was in her arms that Nick cried after the bitch broke his heart and destroyed him. It was her who’d listen to his drunk rambling and heard him whimper in his sleep. She was the one who kicked his butt into gear when he let himself slump into apathy and shoved him in cold water when he got overexcited. She knew why his mother had ditched him at Yasmin’s home and why the woman almost never visited for over seven years.
Sometimes, Yasmin wondered if she didn’t know more than Nick himself.
She wandered into the main living area, lost in thoughts but keeping an ear out for movement inside the apartment. Soon she heard the sound of the shower going. Movement near the coach informed her of McLeon’s presence. Nick’s ginormous alley cat sauntered heavily in her direction and rubbed against her legs, purring for a stroke. She gave in without much of a fight, finding comfort in the feeling of his short, soft fur.
“Your roommate is going to make my hair turn grey.” The cat seemed to mewl his assent and pressed her for more scratches. She chuckled.
Waiting for Nick to finish his shower, Yasmin walked over to the balcony glass door and opened it to let the stale air out and a fresh breeze in. She looked out for a moment at the river lazily flowing down below. Despite the early hour, hover-barges were already darting quietly over the waters, delivering their cargo and deftly avoiding courageous rowers and idiots playing with aqua-jet packs.
Sounds of rustling paper brought her back into the room. On the table, she saw scattered pieces of paper along with a few rolling crayons, disturbed by the wind she’d invited in. Had Nick been drawing? He hadn’t done that since high school. Catching a sheet before it could fall to the floor, she glanced at it.
The content made her stomach churn.
Feeling she was going to be sick, Yasmin rushed to the kitchen—the only toilet in the apartment was in the bathroom Nick occupied. She leant over the sink just in time to spit bile and undigested remains of her morning snack. She retched a couple more times before regaining control of her insides. She wiped her mouth and chugged a glass of water. “Oh, Nick…” She used a towel to dry her nascent tears.
She stomped back in the living area with determination. Angrily, she gathered all the drawings, trying to ignore their content, and folded and shoved them in her hoodie pocket. She’d burn them later. Her first intent had been to rip them to bits and throw everything in the bin, but it didn’t feel enough.
Still burning with anger without a readily-available target, Yasmin barged into the bathroom, meeting the puzzled gaze of a soapy young man who needed to get back into shape. And back into shape she would whip him. That would help her feel better.
She growled, “I told you to be quick. I don’t have all day. Be ready in five minutes, or I drag you across town naked.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked out, slamming the door shut. The sight of Nick’s bewildered and slightly worried face remained in her mind.
Already, she was feeling better.
* * *
[ EVANGELINE DUCHESNE ]
Eva laid on her bed, clutching an old and battered goth bunny plush toy. Tears streaked down her face, and she didn’t know why. She wasn’t feeling sad. If anything, she felt confused. She’d spent the past week in a daze, ever since Vicky had died to the burning woman.
After somehow surviving that inferno, Athena had made her way to Start alone, intent on reuniting with the unruly vampire and get this subclass business sorted out. However, as time passed and she waited for Victoria to respawn, her feelings had grown more and more conflicting.
It shouldn’t have been the case. The half-vampire was a wild card, a disruptive element who kept throwing Athena’s carefully controlled world into chaos. Every moment near her felt like drowning in a storm, gasping for breath and struggling to stay afloat, unable to guess in which way the swell would drag you next. Eva couldn’t have that. She needed an orderly environment to keep the parts of her broken self together. Since Victoria was threatening that order, she needed to go.
Athena had eventually convinced herself of that truth. When she’d headed for the meeting point by the fountain, it was with the intention to make the crazy woman show her to the nearest class canceler then never see her again. Eva realised she could have asked any information broker in the city to point her in the right direction. But at the time, she’d rationalised her actions telling herself broker’s asked for ridiculous overcharges. It was a compelling argument too. A life of inherited debts had made Eva naturally averse to spending money.
When she’d reached the Hero’s Plaza, however, she’d found the dhampir in trouble—again.
Athena had acted by reflex, intercepting the perceived threat, and lost her opportunity to make things clear right then. The rest of the evening blended in a blur of colourful shops, street performances and candies… lots, and lots of candies… then fleeing from the guards, witnessing a senseless execution, then a nonsensical resurrection, another chase… All that in a single afternoon. Eventually, somehow, Athena ended up offering Vicky her mother’s help to solve their artefact issue—completely missing her intended break-up.
Eva’s face scrunched up, her grip on the bunny tightening. She angrily wiped her confused tears. That failed vampire was the nemesis of planning!
This couldn’t go on. Athena needed to get rid of the petite chaos-monger. Victoria was an unpredictable walking disaster. She was also a liar and probably was hiding more secrets that would eventually blow up in Athena’s face. She had to go.
Then why was it that every time Athena made up her mind to split up with the other player, Vicky would smile, make a stupid comment, or act in a way that made Athena’s resolve melt? Why did the small woman seem so eager for Athena’s approval? Ever since her parents’ death, everyone around Eva spent their time worrying about her, her wellbeing, her feelings, her sanity. Nobody ever expected her to take care of them. How could she? Little traumatised Eva couldn’t even take care of herself.
Then she came along, a little slip of a girl who could insult dragons, blew up undead with a laugh, tamed zombie goats and ran after powerful thieves in thug-filled streets; a girl who looked at Athena like a kitten stuck on a tree branch whenever she got into more troubles than she could handle—a woman who could viciously torture a grown man with less care than if she stepped on a bug.
Eva shifted uncomfortably on her hard bed. Maybe she should indulge for once and buy a decent mattress?
The sudden personality shift inside the Library had thrown Athena off. One instant Victoria was being her annoyingly cutesy and carefree self—the next she crushed a man’s junk with a high-heeled boot made of her blood.
However, what had perplexed Eva the most was her own reaction. For as long as she could remember, people’s blood had unsettled her—for obvious reasons. In extreme cases, her composure crumbled, and her body froze up in fear. That was the reason her therapist had insisted she played this game: to get used to violence, blood, strangers, men, and more stuff she had troubles with, all that in a safe environment, where she was in control, which she could exit at any time. Even then, Eva still chose a defensive class and fought exclusively in PvE unless forced.
Here, at no point had she felt scared. Worried, yes—though she wasn’t sure what or whom for. Annoyed, too, at Vicky for again doing her own thing without consulting her. Troubled, because of what her mother might think. But never afraid. She wasn’t threatened by Vicky’s actions. The blood and violence weren’t against her, in any way. The part of her mind that saw every bit of gore and brutality as a shadow of her parent’s murder coming for her simply didn’t register Vicky as a potential danger.
Instead of fear, Athena had been filled with another familiar emotion: anger, at herself.
Now, curled up in her bed, Eva realised she’d viewed the entire event like a pet owner unable to stop her undisciplined kitty from acting up and attacking the creepy mailman.
This realisation left her stunned because of how remote her reaction had been from the bloody and vicious reality. For the first time in a while, Eva started to doubt her sanity in an entirely new way. She laid in her bed on her side, staring at the bare wall, wondering what else was wrong with her.
Eventually, her worry faded back into the emotional blur she floated in whenever she wasn’t terrified or enraged.
However, still, she remained without a clue what to do about Victoria. Her mind told her to keep her distances, but her guts contorted at the idea. The more she thought about it, the less she knew what to do. Her reasoning was running circles.
As she again changed position on her uncomfortable bed, Eva’s gaze fell on a pink bundle sitting neatly folded on a chair: Nicolas’ stupid bunny onesie pyjama, which he’d deceitfully tricked her into wearing on the night she was stranded in his apartment due to a keycard mishap. That devious man! The mere memory of the event darkened Eva’s cheeks with embarrassment. Nevertheless, she was a polite host, and she’d taken the pyjama home intending to launder it and return it later.
…which she never got the opportunity to. She couldn’t seem to catch him at school—now that she thought about it, he’d always been the one to approach her—and she was way too embarrassed to give it to one of his friends—not that she knew whom his friends were.
She couldn’t keep it forever though.
...even if it was somewhat cute.
No. No. No. She shook her head and buried it into her black goth bunny toy. I won’t stoop to stealing. Maybe she could buy the same on the internet? No. No. No. That’d be wasteful… But maybe Nicolas would let her keep it? And that would solve the issue of handing it back. Yes.
Before she could change her mind, Eva picked up her phone and dialled the man’s number—saved after he scanned his ID into her phone. She waited for several seconds, but no one picked up. When the automated voicemail message started, she quickly ended the call, not trusting herself not to stutter or embarrass herself.
Talking to a recorder was always so awkward. Eva never knew how to finish, and her messages all turned out either rudely abrupt or unending messy rambles.
Possibly, she could also… go there in person… Today was Saturday. She could drop by. In hindsight, it was quite rude to ask someone if she could keep something she’d taken from their home on her own accord—even if they’d cunningly manipulated her into wearing it and she had all the best intentions in doing it. Certainly, she ought to ask him about this trade in person… And if Nicolas wasn’t at home, she could always leave it with his neighbour—his gorgeous, sexy, sensual neighbour. Mary, she thought the woman was called.
Eva licked her lips.
Yes. Hellen would soon come home from the recording studio. Eva could ask her sister then to drive her to Nicolas’s apartment for a quick talk. Yes… talk about the pyjama.
And if she happened to meet his enthralling neighbour, then it would be an absolute unintended coincidence.
* * * * *