We made our first date official by text, naturally.
“Maleficent is out this weekend.” “Take me.” “I was hoping you’d say that.” It was weird how fast things changed. One week ago, he was my best friend who quoted fantasy books and stole my cookies at lunch. Now I was standing in my bathroom, heart pounding, trying to choose the perfect lip balm for a movie date with the boy who’d sent me fantasies about locker rooms and breathless kisses. I remember looking in the mirror and whispering to myself, “Don’t mess this up.” He picked me up wearing a black hoodie and those jeans with holes in the knees that somehow made him look like trouble and safety at the same time. His hair was a mess — in a good way. And when I opened the door, he just looked at me for a second. “Wow,” he said. “You really did your face and everything.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s called mascara.” “Well, I like it.” He grinned. “But I’d like it off you too.” I froze. “Excuse me?” He laughed. “Your makeup. Like… later. After the date. When you wash it off. Relax, you perv.” I punched him lightly in the arm, cheeks burning. But my stomach was doing flips. I couldn’t tell if I was embarrassed or thrilled. Probably both. The movie was… fine. I mean, it was good. Angelina Jolie was terrifying and gorgeous and powerful. But I barely remember half of it. My arm was touching his the entire time. And every second I didn’t look at the screen, I was looking at his profile in the dark. The way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating. The way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to hold my hand but didn’t know how to ask. He finally did — toward the end of the film. Our fingers brushed. Then locked. I swear, the moment it happened, I stopped hearing the movie entirely. When the credits rolled, I felt different. Like something had clicked into place, and my skin wouldn’t stop buzzing. We drove home in silence. Not awkward silence — but thick, full, something’s coming silence. He pulled up in front of my house. The porch light was on. My stomach was in knots. “I had fun,” I said. He looked over at me, eyes soft. “You looked at me a lot during the movie.” “You looked back.” “You smelled good.” “I wore perfume,” I whispered. “I noticed.” It got quiet. He leaned in slightly. I mirrored him. Our eyes locked, and neither of us blinked. And then… He kissed me. Soft, at first. Just lips on lips. But it didn’t stay soft. His hand slid into my hair. He tilted his head. I parted my mouth slightly — nervous, unsure — and then his tongue slipped between my lips. That’s when I gasped. It wasn’t like in the movies. It was hotter. Sloppier. Better. His lips tugged at mine, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver. His tongue found mine, slow at first, then deeper. Hungrier. I clutched his hoodie, grounding myself. My knees were shaking, even though I wasn’t standing. I felt it — something tight and warm coil low in my stomach. The kind of ache that made me want to get closer. Closer than kissing should allow. He pulled back slightly, his breath hitting my lips. “You okay?” I nodded quickly, but I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening inside me. “I could kiss you forever,” he murmured. My voice was barely a whisper. “Then don’t stop.” So he didn’t. We kissed again, and this time, his lips tugged mine harder — gently, but possessive. Like he needed to feel them give under his mouth. He kissed me until my head spun, until I forgot what air was supposed to feel like. I barely remembered walking inside. I was floating. I collapsed on my bed, still wearing my jeans and jacket, heart pounding and lips swollen. I stared at my phone. And then I messaged the group chat. Lila 🍭 okay. I just had my first kiss. like REAL kiss. and I think I’m dying. or exploding. or turning into lava. what is happening to me??? Nicole 🐍 omg DID HE KISS YOU IN THE MOVIE THEATER OR IN FRONT OF YOUR HOUSE SPILL RIGHT NOW Mae 🌙 wait wait wait… did you get tongue?? 👀 Lila 🍭 tongue. teeth. lip pulling. gasps. my soul left my body AND SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME Mae 🌙 nothing’s wrong with you babe. your body is waking up. welcome to horny emotional purgatory 😇 Nicole 🐍 you got the kiss shivers. classic case. you turned on for the first time didn’t you? Lila 🍭 …I think so? like my whole lower stomach was on fire. and I didn’t want it to stop. ever. Mae 🌙 yup. sounds like arousal, sweetheart 💕 your body wants what your lips are getting. Nicole 🐍 told ya it would happen when it was the right person you like him bad, huh? Lila 🍭 I don’t just like him. I ache for him. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept reliving the kiss — the warmth of his mouth, the sound of his breathing, the way his hand had tangled in my hair like he needed it there. And under the covers, I touched my lips, now slightly bruised from how hard he’d kissed me. I smiled. I was changed.The decision had been brewing in Lila’s mind for days, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter each time her phone buzzed. At first, she thought she could ignore it—block the number, delete the messages, pretend none of it was happening. But pretending didn’t stop the way her hands shook when her screen lit up, or how her stomach dropped at the sight of another photo she hadn’t consented to be taken. It didn’t stop the fear that whoever was behind it was watching her even now, cataloguing her life like a series of stolen moments.So on a cool Thursday morning, when the rest of the world felt caught in the slow hum of early spring, Lila marched herself into her phone carrier’s store.She sat in the plastic chair across from a clerk who looked hardly older than her, fingers flying across a keyboard as he pulled up her account. “So you’re wanting to change your number completely?” he asked, voice flat with the practiced tone of someone who’d asked the question a hundred ti
The sunlight filtering through Lila’s blinds didn’t feel warm today—it felt intrusive. Every beam seemed to spotlight the unease curling in her chest, reminding her that no matter how much she tried to pretend, the unknown sender was still out there, still watching, still whispering into her life through texts and images. She sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling through the latest barrage of messages that had come overnight. Each ping made her flinch.Nicole and Mae had insisted she bring the phone over so they could examine it together. If Terra really was behind this, they needed a strategy, and Lila wasn’t going to be the only one on edge anymore.By mid-morning, Lila had texted her friends to come over. When the doorbell rang, she opened it to find Nicole with a backpack slung over one shoulder and Mae holding a laptop like it was a weapon.“Morning,” Nicole said, her tone a mixture of teasing and seriousness. “You’ve got that haunted
Lila couldn’t hear the world around her. The music from her phone, the hum of the ceiling fan, even the faint traffic outside her window—all of it faded beneath the roar in her chest. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone, the screen lighting up with the last unanswered message she’d fired off at the anonymous number.Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why him? Why me?The reply had come in seconds, like whoever was on the other side was waiting, breathing down her neck through invisible wires.You’ll see. He’s not who you think he is. And I’ll prove it.And then, as if to twist the knife, the photo.Her and Anthony. From two nights ago, walking down the block after leaving Nicole’s house. She hadn’t even noticed anyone near them, let alone close enough to snap a picture. But there they were—her head tilted toward Anthony, his hand brushing hers, both of them caught in a moment that had felt so safe.Now it was ruined.
Lila couldn’t hear the world around her. The music from her phone, the hum of the ceiling fan, even the faint traffic outside her window—all of it faded beneath the roar in her chest. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone, the screen lighting up with the last unanswered message she’d fired off at the anonymous number.Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why him? Why me?The reply had come in seconds, like whoever was on the other side was waiting, breathing down her neck through invisible wires.You’ll see. He’s not who you think he is. And I’ll prove it.And then, as if to twist the knife, the photo.Her and Anthony. From two nights ago, walking down the block after leaving Nicole’s house. She hadn’t even noticed anyone near them, let alone close enough to snap a picture. But there they were—her head tilted toward Anthony, his hand brushing hers, both of them caught in a moment that had felt so safe.Now it was ruined.
The night pressed in heavy, the kind that swallowed and wrapped the world in a suffocating stillness. Lila sat cross-legged on her bed, the pale glow of her phone the only light in the room. It illuminated her face like a cruel spotlight, highlighting the tension etched into her jaw, the tear-gloss sheen in her eyes.Her screen still showed the last message, waiting for her acknowledgment like a taunt.Does he tell you he loves you? Or does he just say it because you need to hear it?She hated how the words sank under her skin, how they poisoned the very place Anthony’s voice used to soothe her. She wanted to delete them, block the number, pretend this had never crawled into her world. But she couldn’t. She never could. Every time she silenced the phone, every time she told herself she was done, the messages found their way back to her like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.Tonight, though, she was done being passive. Tonight, she couldn’t shove it aside anymore. Somethi
The glow of Lila’s phone felt like fire against her palm. Another message had arrived—no name, no picture, just the same number that had haunted her for weeks.“He’ll never love you the way you think. He belongs to me.”She squeezed her eyes shut, every word carving deeper into the insecurities she thought Anthony’s presence had healed. She should have ignored it. She’d promised herself she would. But her thumb hovered over the keyboard like it had a mind of its own.Who are you? What do you want from me? she typed, heart slamming in her chest.The reply came instantly.“I want what’s mine.”Her breath caught. Fingers trembling, she typed again. You don’t even know me. Why are you sending me this?This time, instead of words, an image arrived. Her own face, taken from across the street outside her apartment. She was unlocking her car, wearing the same denim jacket she’d had on earlier that week. Her blood ran cold.The phone nearly slipped from her gr