Page 3 of Creep

One more year and I would do something different. I would finally find my passion in life.

One more year.

It had been five years already.

I was twenty-seven, directionless, and…sad.

The phone vibrated in my hand just as I picked it up. I looked down at the screen. A message from Victoria.

Victoria:Come out to Brody’s.

I grimaced. The last thing I wanted to do was go out to the bar with Victoria after a long and exhausting day at work.

But this was the third time she had asked this week, and I had already said no the other two times. I doubt she would let me get away with trying to get out of this one.

As if on cue, my phone vibrated once more. I didn’t want to look. I did so anyway.

Victoria:I know where you live. You’ll only make this worse for yourself if you make me get my drunk ass over there to kidnap you.

I shook my head and texted back.

Me:Not funny. Don’t joke about drinking and driving.

Victoria:I was talking about taking an Uber. Besides, I’m not that drunk… yet.

Another text came through shortly after this one.

Victoria:Come quick. There’s this cute boy here, and I need you to fulfill your role as my best friend and be my wingwoman.

I smiled as I texted back.

Me:You don’t need me to help you get laid.

And wasn’t that the truth? My best friend was an exceptionally gorgeous redhead with a killer body. She broke more hearts than I could count, and what was more, she knew she was beautiful.

Victoria:You can come out and see your boyfriend.

I rolled my eyes over her text. Technically, Brody wasn’t my boyfriend. He was the owner of Brody’s Bar—hence the name—and was someone I enjoyed talking to.

Me:I’m coming.

I shoved the phone in my pocket, knowing the dream of going home and changing into my pajamas to watch an old nineties romance film was nothing more than just that. A dream.

I walked out the same path I took to get inside, turning off the lights I had turned on as I went. Just as I got to the last light switch, I hesitated.

Slowly, I turned around and took in the lonely white rose lying on one of the tables.

That wasn’t there when I left earlier, and I had been the last one out the door.

I would have noticed. I was usually good at detecting things that were out of place.

I walked over to the rose and cautiously reached for it, as if this were a horror movie and the rose would turn into a snake and bite me.

But it was nothing more than a harmless?—

“Ouch.” I dropped the rose when a thorn pricked my finger. A bead of crimson pooled at the tip. It didn’t hurt, but I was wearing a white shirt, and I didn’t want blood to get on the fabric.

What an inconvenience.

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