Book 2, Chapter 1 – The Blue-Eyed Enigma

A Love To Follow

With a violent start I woke, my breath hitching as the cool air of the room hit my damp skin. Sweat streaked down my forehead, and my body shook with the electric aftershocks of a pleasure so fierce it felt like fire tearing through my veins, leaving me breathless and undone.

It was those eyes again.

Endless, piercing blue, chasing me through the dream I had just escaped. They hunted me there, relentless, unyielding, until I could no longer run. And when they caught me, I was lost. Their gaze stripped me bare, pulling me into a place where I surrendered to every hidden longing I had tried to bury. Even now, awake, I could still feel them on me—a force that was both terrifying and beautiful, a hunger that refused to let me go.

As the fog of sleep began to lift, I realized my hand was still buried between my wide-spread legs, my fingers slick with the evidence of my own undoing. My nipples were painfully stiff and erect, sensitive even to the slight movement of my breath. I lay between the sheets, paralyzed in the quiet dark, waiting for the waves of the orgasm to finally recede and leave me back on the shore of reality.

This was becoming a dangerous obsession.

Over the last six months, these hauntings had increased in intensity until they felt less like dreams and more like a parallel life. There was no defense against it; the mere memory of his gaze drove me to the edge of madness, compelling me to touch myself with a desperation that both terrified and thrilled me.

With a shaky sigh, I finally forced myself out of bed.

The mundane world was calling. College awaited, and with it, Selima, my only confidante, who was undoubtedly already downstairs, enduring my mother’s small talk while waiting for me to emerge from my secret, sapphire-blue cocoon.

The shrill, metallic ring of the school bell sliced through the silence of the classroom, making me jump nearly out of my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as the teacher finally snapped her textbook shut. Desperate to get out for my customary pining session, I hurried to gather my things, my hands still trembling slightly as I shoved books into my bag. I was halfway to the door when Selima stepped before me, blocking my path with a look that told me I wasn't going anywhere.

"Mehanda, it’s Valentine’s Day next week," she murmured. Her eyes searched mine, sharp and knowing. "Are you finally going to tell Uriel? You’ve been pining for him for ages. This is it—the perfect moment to confess before some socialite stakes her claim."

I froze, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the strap of my bag.

The mere thought of it—of actually stepping out of the shadows and showing that man, the one the entire campus lusted after, that I was just as breathless for him as the rest—made me shudder. A cold wave of self-consciousness washed over me. Selima was the only soul who knew the truth: that I didn't just have a crush, but I was utterly consumed by him.

For two years, he had been my private specter.

His sky-blue eyes haunted my most intimate hours, looking at me in the dark with an intensity I never saw in the light of day. Lately, the fantasies had become so vivid that I would find myself flushed with heat in the middle of a lecture, the memory of his phantom touch making my underwear damp and heavy. It was a secret that burned like a brand, making it physically impossible to look him in the eye without feeling like I was baring my soul.

"You know I can't, Selima," I whispered, my eyes darting around the thinning crowd of students. "He has never noticed me. I’m just part of the architecture here. Look at the girls he’s around—daughters of the elite with designer lives and perfect hair. My parents are just laborers. I’m a girl meant for the background, not the spotlight."

Selima let out a long, frustrated sigh, shaking her head.

"Have you ever noticed how he treats them, though? He’s like stone, Mehanda. None of that status means a thing to him. He doesn't want a trophy; he wants something real. Why not you? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The worst he can do is say no, and at least then you can stop living in your head."

As I weighed her words, searching for a spark of courage beneath the layers of my fear, we drifted toward the exit. The hallway was a chaos of slamming lockers and teenage chatter, but as we crossed the threshold, a sudden, icy shiver raced down my spine. It was sharp, electric, and so familiar it made my breath hitch. I turned, driven by an instinct I couldn't ignore.

There, leaning against the cold metal lockers, stood the man who had been the architect of my every dream.

Uriel!

And he was looking directly at me.

For a few heart-stopping seconds, the world simply ceased to spin. His gaze was unreadable, and so impossibly blue it felt like falling into the heart of an ocean. My skin buzzed as if I’d touched a live wire.

Then, with a graceful, steady movement, he pushed off the wall and began walking in the opposite direction, his presence leaving a vacuum in the air behind him.

“What was he doing here?” I asked tightly. I tried to swallow the mountain of nerves in my throat.

"Ask him yourself," Selima replied, giving me a pointed nudge. "He’s polite to everyone, but you’re the only girl in this school who treats him like he’s invisible. What are you waiting for? This could be the Valentine’s Day that changes everything."

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but a dark thread of doubt remained.

If he wanted to know me, wouldn't he have made a move? That was the way the stories went: the hero always pursues the heroine. I tried to mask my disappointment, wondering when I had become so small.

My bestie groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Coward! If you want him, you have to fight for him. This isn't the Middle Ages; we don't wait for favors to drop from the sky. Maybe he’s just as intimidated by your silence as you are by his beauty. Go for it."

The tiny flame of hope she’d ignited began to flicker in my chest. She was right. I didn't have to jump off a cliff; I just had to take one step. A simple ‘hello’ wouldn't kill me, even if it felt like it might.

"How do I even start?" I asked, feeling like an amateur. "I can't just walk up and talk about the weather. I'll look like a total idiot."

A sly, almost predatory grin spread across Selima’s face.

She had that look—the one that meant she had already mapped out my entire future.

"Remember Michael, his best friend? He’s my neighbor. We’ll just 'happen' to run into them after school by the park. But we start at the canteen. I’ll handle Michael. You just focus on not forgetting how to breathe when Uriel looks at you."

She sounded so certain, so ready to play matchmaker to the gods. My mind raced, already picturing a dozen scenarios where I tripped over my own feet or lost the ability to speak English.

"Okay," I breathed, trying to steady my pulse. "I'll try. I’ve spent two years staring at the floor. It’s time I looked up."

Selima smirked and hooked her arm through mine, pulling me toward the canteen.

The scent of cheap pizza and floor wax filled the air, but all I could focus on was the blue-eyed presence waiting somewhere in the crowd, and the frantic, rhythmic drumming of my heart against my ribs.