Page 12 of Stalk Me

My hands clench into fists at my sides, anger and humiliation from the classroom still burning hot in my veins. Belle thinks she’s won this round, putting me in my place in front of everyone. But watching her with Nicolas, an idea begins to take shape—a dangerous, delicious idea.

She smiles again, a wide Cheshire-like grin, as she runs her fingers through his well-kept golden hair. Her sharp blue eyes clash with mine for a fraction of a second, her power now flexing like a satisfied cat ready to devour her prey.

The corridor suddenly feels charged with possibility. Every relationship has its weak points, every perfect couple their secrets. And Nicolas… Well, he looks like someone who isn’t against having a little fun.

In retaliation, I let my gaze wash over him as though I’m curious. Maybe I am. Maybe, I’ve just found a way to bring Belle down a notch. This may very well be the opening I’ve been waiting for to take the first bite.

Sweet Taste of Vengeance

Room 512 seems to pulse with bass-heavy music, the sound muffled but insistent behind the heavy oak door. Another “private gathering” in the boys’ wing, technically against school rules but overlooked as long as nobody causes too much trouble. The rich kids of Shark Bay are experts at bending the rules without breaking them completely. The air feels electric tonight, charged with the kind of tension that only comes before something breaks irreparably.

I heard about the party during lunch—or rather, I made sure to overhear Max telling Dougie about it while I pretended to study nearby. Belle would be there with Nicolas, holding court among their loyal bitches. Perfect. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to put her in her place, and now it’s come up. And a drunken hookup with her boyfriend should be exactly what I need to knock her off her pedestal. After all, what better way to establish and hurt the enemy than by taking away the person closest to them?

I spent the afternoon watching Belle prep for her big night, noting how she changed outfits three times before settling on a designer minidress that probably cost more than most people’s rent. When she finally stepped into the shower, it was almost too easy to slip into the bathroom and adjust the water temperature of the wash basin, guaranteeing her perfect curls would fall flat in the humidity. A minor inconvenience that would keep her occupied just long enough.

Now I stand in front of my mirror, smoothing down my uniform skirt. I didn’t bother changing—the navy and gold will stand out among all the casual designer wear, a deliberate choice to draw attention. My black hair falls in perfect waves, lips painted a sharp crimson that matches the dangerous glint in my eyes. Everything has to be perfect tonight. Belle thinks she can break me with her little stunts? Time to show her what real manipulation looks like.

I twist Belle’s favorite gold bracelet between my fingers—the one I lifted from her desk during literature class when she was too busy whispering about me to notice. According to the engraving, it was a gift from Nicolas on their one-year anniversary. How touching. I’ll make sure to return it to him tonight, right after I mark him as one of my conquests.

The hallway outside 512 is already crowded with students clutching red cups, their voices a low murmur beneath the throbbing music. I catch Erik’s eye as he leans against the wall, but I don’t acknowledge him. I can’t afford any distractions tonight, not when I’m so close to taking Belle down. This isn’t about pleasure or connection. This is about power, about showing everyone at Shark Bay what happens when you try to play games with Luna Queen.

The room is crowded with familiar faces—the golden children of Shark Bay’s elite. Even amongst the casual alcohol consumption, they’re still prim and proper, gossiping behind their designer masks, their expensive whiskey glasses like shields between them and reality. No one knows how bad things can get when the money runs out. They’re caught in the illusion that every line is easily crossed, the veil drawn over their eyes so fine that they’re blind to the truth. But I see it. I see everything.

As expected, I spot Nicolas toward the center of the crowd. If Belle’s the school’s queen, he’s the king—until I dethrone them. That’s the plan, anyway. He’s holding court around his jock posse, a red cup in one hand and a phone in the other, no doubt wondering where Belle is.

“Have you seen Belle?” he asks his friend. His words slur slightly, but there’s something sharp in his eyes that makes me wonder how drunk he really is. A line of worry crosses his features as he slips the phone into his back pocket.

“No.” His friend shrugs. “But I can’t see Jessica either. Want me to text her?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Nicolas replies with a pensive expression. He runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair, messing it up in a way that makes him look more human, more vulnerable. The gesture reminds me of Alex, and for a moment, guilt threatens to surface. His brows furrow.

Perfect. My lips curve into a satisfied smile. Not because of the victory to come, but because the familiar rush of power chases away the unwanted memories. My plan is working.

With a tilt of my head, a tiny smirk, and a few gliding steps, I get close enough. Casually, I stop and brush a few errant strands of hair from his face, giving him a teasing smile as I grab his glass. It’s almost too easy.

“You look like you’ve lost something,” I say, my voice pitched low so only he can hear.

His brown eyes narrow in suspicion. “What’s it to you?”

“I just want to help you feel better.” I reach a hand out to rest on his. “Isn’t that what people do here?”

“Hmm.” He seems to consider this. His voice echoes, but the low light and loud music hide his words from anyone else. The haze of the booze seems to be dampening his senses, and for just a moment, I see what Belle sees in him. He’s tall and handsome, confident but not arrogant. And he cares for her.

Still, none of it makes a difference.

“So… can I help?” I shift closer until my leg is pressed against his. “Don’t worry. She won’t be here for a while.”

He frowns. “How do you know? Wait, what did you do?”

It’s amusing to watch him putting two and two together. He may be slow, but he’s not dumb. And even in his buzzed state, he realizes the gravity of the game we’re playing. My smirk grows larger, my victory in sight.

“Nothing yet,” I purr. “But I know that look. I saw you watching the video. More than once. You’re jealous of Dougie.”

“That’s bullshit,” he argues, but it falls flat.

“I bet Belle doesn’t let you do anything exciting to her. But I’m different. I crave it.”

There’s no point pretending to bat my eyelashes. My lips are already pressed to his, a challenge and a promise of a thrill. He pulls back, assessing me again, really looking at me this time. What he sees must satisfy him, because in the next second, I’m against the wall, his hands skimming across my skin as he explores my body. I smile against his lips, reveling in my own secret.

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