Page 37 of EverGreene
“It’s fine. I’ve had better.” I made it a point to stare at him when I spoke the last sentence.
“You’re lying.”
“That’s presumptuous of you. I think I’m pretty truthful.”
“You fidget when you’re lying.”
“How could you possibly know that about me?”
“I’ve seen it before.”
Of course, he had. He’d probably seen me out in the wild well before Katy’s Halloween party. Maybe even studied my mannerisms from afar. I imagined the TikToker who was famous for posting videos of himself running around as he waved a giant red flag, kicking down my door, and draping V in its fabric. All of this screamed danger. But here I was just as wet for him as I’d been last night.
Damnit, vagina. Get your shit together.
“That’s not in the least unnerving whatsoever.” My fingers worked to open the package of jam. “You know, it’s really not fair that you apparently know so much about me, but I don’t even know what color your eyes are or what your nose is shaped like, whether it’s a delicate schnoz of average size or a large honker of a beak that could very well be a deal breaker for me.”
“I’ll have you know I have a respectable nose of average size.”
“You being defensive about the size of your nose has me worried.” Eyeing him, I spread as much jam as I could fit on the plastic knife across the toast. “Why is it so difficult for you to just show me who you are, or at least, let me hear your real voice. I know no one in this town. You, better than anyone except Katy, should know that. The whole mysterious masked man thing was great for the first night, but Halloween is over now.”
V walked around the table, crouching in front of me. His hand, free of his glove, caressed my face, sending goosebumps down my body. “Soon. I promise.”
“Just promise you’re not some deranged murderer.” He stared up at me, silent and unmoving, and I had to be honestthat his lack of any kind of sarcastic retort was more concerning to me than the prospect that he may be an actual murderer. That was something I’d learned about myself that I would need to explore later. “Jesus, V. I’m joking. That was a joke.”
“Right.” He stood up, still obviously tense despite his attempt at a chuckle. “I—I knew you were kidding.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Sure seemed like it.”
V glanced up at the clock on the wall above my head. “If I don’t want to be late, I need to leave now.”
I nodded. “So, what else do I need to break to get you to come back over, or will me leaving my vibrator under my pillow summon you like some erotic tooth fairy?”
“I’m never far from you, Ever.”
“I know. And it terrifies me how much that doesn’t terrify me.”
“I’ll see you soon.” He turned around to lift up his mask, removing the modulator and tossing it on the table.
Conflicted, I watched him walk out my door, soon disappearing from view down the street. What the actual fuck was going on? This could not be my life. And what the hell did “soon” mean? If only there was some other way to find who?—
Holy shit.
The camera. He left this morning and came back, which meant he would most certainly be on camera. Maybe he dropped the ball and pulled his mask off while still in view of the camera, or had an emergency sneeze attack and didn’t want to sneeze in his own face. I ran to my bedroom and picked up my phone, scrolling to the app for the security camera.
“Okay, V, you frustrating son of a bitch, let’s find out who you really are.”
Footage from earlier in the morning showed V walking outof my house, his back turned to the camera. About halfway from the door to the stairs leading from my porch to the sidewalk, he paused, his hands reaching up to his mask.
This was it. Maybe I wouldn’t see his face, but I would see the back of his head, and that just may be enough to solve the puzzle. Honestly, I was a little disappointed that he was making such a rookie mistake after taking such great pains to maintain his anonymity. He wasn’t infallible, after all. He was flawed. He was caught. He was….
A dead man. V was a dead man.
“You inconceivable bastard.” Gritting my teeth together, I watched the figure of V turn around to face the camera, giving an exaggerated wave. “Maybe next time,” he said before he bounded down the stairs.
I let out a shriek, tossing the phone to the bed, as I, too, slumped down on the mattress. A sensible person would throw their hands up at this point, toss out an ultimatum, and tell V that if he didn’t reveal himself, this would all be over. Fortunately, I, Everleigh Moore, formerly Eliza Everleigh Thomas, would never be accused of being a sensible person. If V wanted to play this game, we would play it. And if he wanted to play dirty, so would I.
Next to me, my phone rang, signaling a call from Katy, no doubt wanting to discuss her latest conquest from the night before or to ask to borrow a pair of my underwear to leave in her cheating ex’s car to cause shit between him and his new girlfriend again. Both had equal odds.
