Page 8 of Tempt Me

Now, I was being insulted, so clearly, I missed something.

“You, Fallon. You. You caught his eye. He couldn’t stop staring at you the whole time, and he cut his class in half to get you to talk to him. Are you really that dense? I love you, butgirl.”

It was like her words had smacked me upside the head. The hot professor was not staring at me. I just annoyed him. He wasn’t interested in me.

Before I could voice my protests, Sasha was squealing at a text.

“Oh my god! We just got invited to Darcy Beck’s party tonight! It’s apparently being held in one of the empty high rises on Maple Street. The owner went to jail for murder or some shit. Darcy lived on the sixth floor and said she had access to his house. She found the spare key on top of the door frame a while back, and they party when it’s empty.”

I hated parties…and in a murderer’s home? Yeah, it sounded great.

“Do not even think about saying you aren’t coming, or I will use your beautiful hair to strangle you.”

I sighed. I didn’t want Sasha to go to some weird party alone, so it looked like I would have to wait on sleuthing into the professor’s past for now.

“Fine,” I begrudgingly agreed. “Text me the address, and I will meet you there at eight o’clock.”

The neighborhood was creepy at night. It didn’t matter how rich a place was. This place was straight from a horror film with its quiet, horribly lit streets and the air of menace lingering with each breath. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was a feeling I couldn’t shake. This place was just wrong.

I texted Sasha for the billionth time, making another round by the grunge dumpsters at the apartment.

Fallon: Sasha, I swear to god, if you don’t answer me, I am personally going to find this old murdering tenant and give him your head gift-wrapped!

Growling to myself, I walked up the steps and sat down with a huff.

“Do you think we will meet the murderer?” one partygoer said aloud when she arrived at the place. She stopped at the steps and stared at the daunting building in fear.

I snorted. “I wouldn’t mind a few people meeting a murderer.”

The girl grimaced, standing idly next to me. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Reaching inside, I sighed in relief to see Sasha’s name on the screen.

Sasha: Sorry, love! I am already here. No murderer! :( Where are you?

Refraining from doing a facepalm, I glanced up at the girl, who was still frozen on the steps.

“Good news. No murderer here tonight. You can go on up.”

The girl audibly sighed and trekked the rest of the way up the staircase. I, however, was not so sure. Would a murderer be okay with a bunch of drunk college kids partying in his old home? Did he murder victims in this building?

I walked around the back, avoiding the beer bottles and cardboard boxes thrown up against the wall. A door at the back led into the building, and it didn’t look like it had any cameras or security around it, unlike the front. Maybe there were more spare keys to be found.

I stared at the alleyway. A streetlamp illuminated that area, and it was better than being in the dark like the steps.

“Not afraid of the dark, Little Voyeur?”

I jumped a mile, spinning around to the voice. None other than my fucking professor stood in the darkness, haloed by the streetlight behind him.

“What is your deal? Why do you keep popping up everywhere I am?”

He thought I was the voyeur. Ha!

He shrugged. He had on running gear, and god help me. The way that damn shirt hugged what was clearly a million abs was making me feral.

“Heard there was a murderous rager. I thought I’d stop by and check it out. What has you out here daydreaming and not inside with the others?”

What the hell would a professor want with a ghost story from college students?

“Do you run here often?” I questioned, ignoring his statement.

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