Page 2 of Stalked By Axel

This isn’t my first attempt to do so. I’ve tried so many ways to pull him into the light with no success. I put teal highlights in my hair and got no reaction. Then I tried to ride my late father’s motorcycle by myself. He simply signed me up for lessons. I even went so far as scheduling a sky diving trip, but he called and canceled my appointment. This time, he won’t have a choice but to show up himself. I won't be so easy to ignore anymore.

“Okay fine, I won't stop you if you've already made up your mind on this,” she says, with a sigh before walking back to the bed. “Finish getting ready, I'll order us an Uber.”

She might think it’s a bad idea, but I know my best friend has my back. In a lot of ways, I know Scarlet is just as innocent as me. But she’s so confident and has a “don’t mess with me” attitude. Without her company, I doubt I’d have the nerve to go to the club.

I inspect the makeup Scarlett brought to my apartment. There isn't much to it, but it's more than I typically would use.I pick up the red lipstick and walk closer to the mirror. For the first time since I came up with this plan…I hesitate.

Will he like it?

I've put so much effort into my physical appearance to get him to see me as an object of attraction, but...this isn’t the real me. What if my plan works and I get his attention then lose it when I go back to my usual look? With a sigh, I uncap the red lipstick and bring it to my lips, hesitating once more. What if he doesn’t even like this look?

In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him with a girl or heard him speak about one. If he's had relationships, then he kept them hidden from me. There is no way of telling if he has a type. I push back the jealousy at the thought of another girl having him and in ways I've only ever dared to dream about.

“Our Uber will be here in five minutes.” With another sigh, I quickly trace my lips with the red lipstick, careful not to smudge it before finally capping it. “We need to get going, Brooke.”

“Alright, I'm done,” I say, sliding into the heels I bought specifically for tonight before hurriedly grabbing my purse. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, surprised by the stranger staring back at me.

Scarlett grabs my arm before doubt can creep in again and pulls me toward the door. We find our Uber waiting outside the building, and I stop to look around, half expecting forhimto pop out of thin air and scold me for leaving my place dressed like this. He would grab my arm and drag me back to my apartment. Scold me for leaving home dressed so provocatively and exposing parts of myself that belong to him—will only ever belong to him.

He'd kiss me, swear to kill any man that dared look my way before making love to me in all the ways I've imagined in my head. He would kiss me in my sleep and promise to love me for the rest of my life. In that deep rough voice that makes my heart tremble every time he speaks, he would call mehis.

“Brooke, get in!”

Scarlett's voice once more drags me from my daydream to the open car door. I look around once more, but I don't spot him. It’s not like I ever do. No, the man hides so well, only popping out when he thinks I need rescuing. Annoyed with myself, I climb into the backseat next to my friend, settling down with a huff.

“Let's go,” I say, pulling the door closed.

If Scarlett notices my darkening mood, then she doesn't comment on it and leaves me to sulk in silence the entire drive to the club. We arrive at the club and Scarlett follows me out, shrugging off my offer to send her my share of the ride fare.

The cool air hits me in the face when I step onto the sidewalk, and I shiver a little. My eyes scan the street, taking in everything at once. The club is a towering structure, all glass and steel with a pulsating giant neon sign that flashes the word “Rave.” Music thumping from inside rattles the glass front of the club, but the windows must be one-way glass because we can’t see inside. In front of the club, there’s a line stretched down the sidewalk full of people chatting and laughing. I bet none of them are sweating buckets in their scandalous clothes like I am.

God, I’m nervous. I’ve gone out with friends and have even tried alcohol before, but this is my first time going to a nightclub. It’s my first time doing something so…reckless. But we’re here, and I am not backing out.

“Are you sure about this?” Scarlett asks when she steps up next to me, digging through her purse for something. “It’s not too late to turn back and—”

“No,” I say firmly despite my nerves. “I’m doing this.”

“I figured you would say that,” she says, passing something over to me. I stare at the ID with my face and name on it, but a different birthday date. A fake ID. “You didn’t think a popular place like this would allow a nineteen-year-old inside, did you?”

I swallow, taking the fake ID from her. “Did you get one for yourself?” I ask, since she’s not much older than me, but she only smirks. With only a year age difference between us, I don’t believe she’s been in this club before either, but she doesn’t seem nervous. In all fairness, I’ve never witnessed anything make Scarlett nervous. She and I met in college and hit it off when we found out we shared two general education classes. Despite the year that’s passed since then, I know little about the person I consider my best friend. She rarely ever talks about her personal life, and I never push her to do so.

“I don’t need an ID. I know the owner,” she says, surprising me with her words.

“How?”

“Family friend.” She shrugs before shutting down as she normally does whenever our conversation shifts to her family. “Let’s go.”

I expect us to walk to the back of the line, but instead, Scarlett leads me straight to the entrance. The tall, muscled bouncer guarding the entrance gives us a once-over before shaking his head. “Get in line like everyone else,” he says.

Scarlet ignores his words and instead hands him her own ID. I can’t tell if it’s fake or not, but after looking at it for a moment, the bouncer’s eyes widen slightly and he returns it.

“You’re good. But your friend doesn’t look a day over sixteen,” the beast of a man tells Scarlett, nodding in my direction. I fight the urge to glower at the man. I may be a little short, but that doesn’t translate to my age.

“She’s twenty-three,” Scarlett offers with an innocent smile. “I can vouch for her.”

“I’ll need to see some ID,” the beast says, and with a nod from my best friend, I pass over the fake ID, holding my breath as the man inspects it. He stares at it for so long that I nearly start squirming, fingering the hem of my dress, and fighting the need to tug on it. The beast looks up and runs his eyes over me before he hands me back the ID and moves aside to let us in.

I don’t react until we’re inside, then I let out a shuddering breath. “You’ve been here before?” I ask Scarlet, but she simply shrugs.

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