I would admit I’d been weak. I’d dragged my heels, searching for strength.
I was late.
But Gil should be here.
Checking he hadn’t messaged me to postpone our arrangement, I put my phone away before I gave into the temptation to message Justin.
He might know where Gil was...or he might not. Either way, I didn’t want to enter a messaging flurry while standing on Gil’s doorstep in the dark.
Knocking again, I called, “Hello?”
Deep, dark silence.
“Gil?”
Nothing.
I tried the handle, expecting it to open.
It didn’t.
I paused, chewing my lip.
What do I do?
Go home? Wait?
What if Justin was right?
What if Gil wasn’t just missing...but taken?
My heart exploded into gear, taking that question and drowning me in terrible scenarios. Of him inside, beaten and bleeding. Of him in the van, tied up and gagged. Of him dying—
“Gil!”
Backing up, I studied the large brick warehouse. The Total Trickery graffiti didn’t hide any other entrances: no fire escape ladders, no back-alley sneak-ins. The only other way was the large roller door used for trucks reversing to empty and pick up supplies.
My thoughts grew evermore gruesome.
I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t tell myself to calm the hell down.
This was Gil.
This was important.
I’d handle his temper if he’d just changed his mind and didn’t want to paint me. I’d allow him to kick me out if he just wanted to forget I existed.
Those I could get over.
I could never get over failing him if any of the awful images my head turned out to be true.
My handbag slid off my shoulder as I ducked and tested the roller door.
It moved a fraction.
I froze.
I’d expected it to be padlocked to the ground, but either it wasn’t chained down or it was loose.
Dropping to my haunches, I squirreled my fingers under the metal and pulled. It screamed and squeaked, creeping slowly from the ground.
A large chain clanked by the pedestrian access, jangling in place and preventing the door from going any higher than a foot and a half.
It wasn’t exactly a method of welcome, but I’d never been afraid of unconventional entries. Gil had taught me the allure of going to places we weren’t supposed to be at night. The park, the local swimming pool, even the school.
We’d broken in one evening when my parents forgot I’d danced at the school hall as Beauty from a ballet rendition of Beauty and the Beast. They’d never turned up—even though I’d pinned their invitations to their pillows every night for a week.
I hadn’t even told Gil that I’d danced as Belle, too shy to tell him about the performance. But somehow, he’d found out and waited for me outside my house when I got home. No one was inside. Just him sitting on the stoop with his sad smile and knowing gaze.
I’d given him a shrug, fighting back tears. I’d wanted so badly for my mum and dad to watch me.
He’d looked at my dangling ballet slippers and my still-painted face and hugged me close. “You were amazing, owl. Absolutely spectacular.”
I pulled away, shock making my heart skip. “You saw?”
“I saw.”
“How?”
“I broke in.” He kissed my forehead, took my hand in his, and walked me all the way back to school. “I want to watch you again.” He brushed away the strands of hair that’d come loose from my bun. “Would you do that for me? Give me a private dance?”
I no longer needed my parents’ approval or smiles.
I only needed his.
I wanted to dance for him more than anything in the world.
“Yes.”
The minute I agreed, he climbed the storeroom behind the gym to the roof, jumped the distance to the main building, slipped through a skylight into the science lab, and made his way through dark and empty corridors to unlock the main door for me.
With a secretive smirk, he’d led me to the school hall, picked me up and placed me on the stage that still held the backdrop of a magical castle where a beast was trapped by a curse, then commanded I put my ballet slippers back on and dance.
To start with, I’d been so nervous I could barely walk, let alone dance.
Dance was my special place; my vulnerable place.
But his pride and affection soon became the music I needed to lose myself in my art.
I didn’t need other dancers.
I didn’t need the guy who played the Beast to hold me, spin me, throw me.
I only needed Gil as he held his breath, devoured me with his eyes, and after—when I breathed hard and my body hummed with an endorphin rush—he’d climbed the steps to join me on the stage. “I’ve watched you dance a thousand times, but this...you stole my heart, O.”
I’d thought he would kiss me.
I’d hoped he’d make love to me.
I believed he would have with the way his eyes glowed with love and pure desire etched his face.
I’d never known lust had a recognisable mask.
But it did.
Gil wore it that night.
Lust so deep and powerful, he didn’t have to touch me for my body to burn, my nipples to harden, my core to dampen.
With our eyes locked and starlight our only illumination, it was the best foreplay I’d ever had. The only foreplay. We were two teenagers desperate to become adults, hungry to share, not just our hearts, but everything else too.
The air sparked with electricity as he’d breathed my name. My hair prickled. My heart flurried. We stumbled into one another, only to scatter as a torch swung into the hall, and the grouchy voice of the groundskeeper complained about rats scurrying in the corners.
I shook my head, dispelling the memory. My body still sang from that night. My toes still pinched from my ballet slippers. My heart still ravenous to claim Gil’s.
Gil had always held such a raw power over me. I’d never gotten over what could’ve been between us because the almost-was was unbelievably special—the reality of it would’ve been our undoing.
Hurry.
I lay down on the ground and scooted under the door, dragging my handbag with me. The heavy metal clanged and banged as I let it fall to the floor, effectively announcing to every turpentine bottle and air compressor that a stranger had entered uninvited.
Find him.
Leaving my handbag by the door, I stood and brushed off dust and grime. “Gil?”
My voice echoed in the unfurnished area.
No response.
“Gil, are you okay?” I kicked off my high heels and jogged in my stockings toward his office. The air hung heavy and still as if trying to convince me no one was there. But something tugged me forward. The silence was a pretender because my skin prickled the way it did whenever I was in Gil’s company.
He’s here.
Somewhere.
His office was empty, the door slightly open as I pushed through and kept my shoulders braced. Even though I’d been in his home before, I couldn’t shed the sensation I wasn’t welcome.
“Hello?” My voice fell to a whisper as I entered his apartment.
Nothing.
No sounds, no smells, no Gil.
I stood by the couch, noticing the bottle of painkillers and the glass of water we’d shared.
The clutter hadn’t been moved.