Page 51 of Creeping Lily
“Fuck,” she mutters, raking her fingers through her hair. I’ve never heard her curse before. It drops into the room like a rock through glass, a jagged punctuation to the tension already pressing in on us.
My stomach knots tighter.
“What do we do?” I ask, my words almost breaking apart on the way out. I’m not sure if I’m looking to her for a plan or just for proof that I’m not imagining all this.
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she storms across the room to the French doors, flings them open, and inhales deeply. The rush of air sweeps in, cool and sharp, but it doesn’t erase the scent. That sandalwood-and-oud haze still clings to everything, like smoke that’s seeped into the wallpaper.
It’s his scent.
The thought hits me with enough force to make my skin crawl.
“God, Lily,” Bethany says, softer now but still tight with nerves. “You really are a magnet for the weirdos.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out hollow, like something dropped down a well. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
But the truth is, the question is eating me alive. Where did he see me? Why me? What moment was it that made him decide I was worth following?
“Hold up… you don’t think it’s Trick, do you?” I hear myself say before I can stop it.
Her head snaps toward me. “Trick?” Her voice is half disbelief, half are-you-serious right now. “You can’t be serious.”
“Who else could it be?” I fire back, desperate for a name, for a reason. Trick’s been… off lately. Overbearing. Invasive in ways that make me itch under my skin. Maybe this is his twisted idea of a peace offering.
Bethany scoffs. “Silly Lily,” she says, but the bite’s missing from her tone. “Could be any one of those campus boys who can’t take their eyes off you. Just because they don’t ask you out doesn’t mean they’re not out there obsessing.”
I roll my eyes, but my hands are already fumbling for my phone. My fingers tremble against the screen as I swipe to my contacts.
“What are you doing?” she asks sharply.
“I’m calling my mother.”
In a blink, her hand shoots out, snatching the phone. She holds it high, out of reach. Her gaze locks on mine, hard enough to pin me in place.
“One, she’ll panic, and there’s nothing she can do from home. Two, I’m not letting you run away from this.”
“I’m not running,” I say, but the catch in my voice betrays me.
“Oh, please.” She tilts her head. “You’re already halfway to packing your bags in your head. Your mom will tell you to come home, and you’ll listen because it’s easy. But I’m not letting you freak out and bolt.”
I suck in a shaky breath, feeling the truth in her words evenas I want to deny them. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. “I’m afraid, Bethany.”
Her expression softens. She steps closer, lays a steadying hand on my shoulder. “I know you are, Lil. But you’re stronger than you think. And listen—if this guy wanted to hurt you, he wouldn’t have left a rose. It’s a… gesture. Creepy, yeah. But not an attack.”
I don’t answer. My eyes drift to the rose again, vivid red against the muted backdrop of the room. It’s too perfect. Too deliberate. A gift that feels more like a claim.
“I think we need to call Justin,” she says at last. Her voice is calmer, but the tension’s still there, fraying her words. “He’ll know what to do.”
I just nod, my throat locked too tight for speech.
She pulls out her phone, thumbs tapping quickly. I back away from the desk, folding my arms around myself like they’re the only thing keeping me together.
The open balcony doors do nothing to lift the heaviness in the air. If anything, the cool breeze just makes the scent sharper, clinging like it wants to live in my lungs.
Whoever he is, he’s out there. Watching.
And now he wants me to know it.
Bethany’s voiceis low and clipped as she talks to Justin, urging to come to our dorm quickly. I can barely hear her over the drumbeat in my own ears. My pulse is everywhere—in my throat, my fingertips, my temples.
