Chapter One - After Hours

Maya’s apartment always felt too big at night. The city outside whispered in neon and passing headlights, but inside it was just her, her half-empty coffee mug, and the soft creak of the radiator. Lena had curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a throw blanket wrapped tight even though the heat was on.

“You can’t be serious,” Lena said, eyes narrowing as she studied Maya. “You’re actually thinking about it?”

Maya smirked, swirling what was left of her coffee. "Thinking about it, wanting it… Those aren't crimes."

“They’re not safe either.”

Maya rolled her eyes and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Safe is overrated. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. I’ve seen that look on your face after you and Jace…”

Lena sat up straighter, shaking her head quickly. “That’s different. That was him. Someone I knew, someone I trusted.”

“Trusted enough to let him have you in a park?” Maya arched a brow, letting the tease slide off her tongue. “Don’t give me that innocent act, Lena. You have your dirty little adventures, and now you’re suddenly the voice of reason?”

Color rose in Lena’s cheeks, but her voice stayed firm. “Because it was with Jace. Not a stranger. Not someone hiding behind a screen name.”

Maya’s laugh was soft, almost bitter. “Not just a screen name. We’ve been talking for months, Lena. Longer than you think. He knows things about me… things I couldn’t even say out loud until I typed them to him.”

“That doesn’t make him real.”

Maya turned, meeting her friend’s gaze, her own steady and unflinching. “He feels real. Real enough that when he tells me to tell him again, tell him what I want, I do. Real enough that sometimes, when I close my eyes, I feel him closer than anyone I’ve actually met.”

Lena shook her head, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. “Maya, this whole surrender fantasy, it’s dangerous. You can’t just hand yourself over in the middle of the night to someone who might not be who you think.”

But Maya’s lips curved into something between a smile and a challenge. “That’s the point. Total surrender. To stop being the careful girl who lives by schedules and rules. To be found in the dark, to be taken apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but what I want and what he wants.”

Lena exhaled, long and slow, as though she was weighing whether to argue again or let it drop. In the end, she just looked at Maya with a mix of worry and something like recognition.

Maya turned her gaze toward the window, watching the city glow against the night sky. “Don’t look at me like that. You trusted your instincts with Jace. Maybe it’s time I trusted mine.”

Lena’s frown deepened. “Instincts? Maya, instincts are one thing. Meeting a stranger because he says the right words online is something else entirely. You don’t know who he is. You don’t know what he’s capable of. This is how people go missing.”

Maya leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe that’s the point. The fantasy isn’t about careful introductions and exchanging résumés. It’s about giving up the reigns and having some fun. About finally letting go of control.” She dropped her voice lower, almost daring Lena to push back. “About being used until I forget where I end and he begins.”

Lena flinched at the bluntness, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “You make it sound like a game, but people get hurt this way. You don’t know him, Maya. Not like you think you do.”

Maya shrugged, though her chest ached at the look in Lena’s eyes. Concern, but also that flicker of judgment she hated. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m stupid. But you don’t get to stand there and tell me it’s impossible when you’ve already broken rules yourself. You told me once you didn’t even think before Jace had you pressed against a tree. That it just… happened.”

Lena’s lips parted, as if to deny it, but she closed them again. Her silence was admission enough.

“That’s what I want,” Maya whispered, more to herself than to Lena. “That moment. That helplessness that isn’t really helpless. The kind you choose.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of traffic beyond the window, a reminder that outside their bubble, the city kept moving. Finally, Lena sighed and rubbed her temple. "Promise me you'll at least be careful. Please."

Maya reached over, catching her friend’s hand. “I promise I’ll be fine.”

Lena didn't look convinced, but she gave a slight nod, squeezing Maya's fingers once before letting go.

By the time Lena left, the apartment felt quieter than ever, the walls echoing with words Maya couldn’t take back. She paced the narrow strip of carpet between her bed and desk, restless energy crawling under her skin. The rational part of her wanted to shower, climb into bed, and forget the conversation had ever happened. But the glow of her phone on the nightstand tugged at her like gravity.

She picked it up, thumb hovering over the screen before she finally unlocked it. The group chat blinked at her, the last message waiting like a dare.

Tell me again. Tell me what you want.

Her breath caught. She typed quickly, then deleted, then typed again. Finally, she let the words stand, her pulse racing as her finger hit send.

To be found. Tonight. Caught off guard.

The reply came almost instantly.

Where?

Her throat went dry. She didn’t need to think. The library was always where her mind went when she pictured it. Safe and dangerous all at once. Public, but lonely after hours. Familiar, yet full of shadows.

Her hands trembled as she typed the single word.

Library.

No answer came right away. Just the three blinking dots that told her someone was there, watching, considering.

Maya dropped the phone onto her bed and pressed both hands to her face. What was she doing? The rush in her veins didn’t feel like fear. It felt like heat, like anticipation.

She shoved her notebook into her bag, along with the half-finished assignment she already knew she wouldn’t touch. What she wore tonight was deliberate—not some cliché of stilettos and a push-up bra, but a careful balance of comfort and possibility.

A cropped Killers Hot Fuss tee clung just enough at her waist, paired with soft shorts that hugged her curves and promised a hint of cheek if she bent the wrong way. Her favorite high socks slid into worn-in Vans, casual but intentional. She’d almost gone without panties, tempted by the risk of it, but at the last minute slipped into a thong that felt like a compromise—bare enough to remind her of what she was craving, covered enough to keep her steady.

Her hair was twisted into her usual space buns, practical for studying but playful in their own way. She slung her bag over her shoulder, keys jingling in her hand as she stepped toward the door, every movement edged with purpose.

If Lena could see her now, she'd probably beg her not to go. But Lena wasn't here. And tonight, Maya didn't want to be saved.

The library lights glowed faintly in the distance as she approached, the tall windows throwing slanted shadows across the pavement. It was nearly midnight, and the campus was quiet, only the occasional echo of voices or footsteps drifting from the far side of the quad. Her pulse hammered as she climbed the steps, each one louder than the last in her ears.

The building loomed, ancient and solemn, like it had been waiting just for her.

She pushed the door open. Her face was warm, from the excitement of the thought of having someone she’s never met before standing behind her. Let alone actually touch her.

The library wasn't supposed to feel dangerous. By day, it was her sanctuary, rows of books neatly ordered, dust motes drifting through pale strips of light, the silence so thick it pressed against her ears. It had always been the kind of place she ran to when the world outside cut too sharply. Among the words of people long dead, nothing ever reached her.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the silence had weight.

Her boots echoed softly against the marble as she stepped inside, the vast atrium unfolding around her. The lamps along the walls cast golden pools that didn't quite reach the center, leaving vast stretches of shadow. She hesitated, clutching the strap of her bag as though it could anchor her.

It was late, later than she’d ever stayed. The air smelled faintly of paper and polish, but underneath there was something else, something metallic, almost electric. She forced herself to move, setting her bag down at her usual table, the wide oak one that looked out toward the east stacks. Her notes spilled across the surface, pens rolling lazily toward the edge as if they too were restless.

Her phone sat face down beside the papers. Dark. Silent. But she could feel the glow of it in her mind, the last message pulsing behind her eyes. Tell me again. Tell me what you want.

She’d typed her secret weeks ago, half-believing that writing it down would bleed it out of her. The fantasy of being found. Late at the library. Pressed into the shadows by someone who knows what to do with me.

It was supposed to stay there, confined to the safety of a chat thread. Confession without consequence.

Now, sitting beneath the yawning shelves, she wasn’t so sure. The silence around her wasn’t the stillness she knew. It was charged, as though the fantasy she’d only dared to write was already watching her from between the stacks.

Maya uncapped a pen, trying to focus on the page in front of her. Her handwriting wavered, the ink bleeding slightly where the tip paused too long. Words slipped out unevenly, notes half-formed, her mind tugged toward the dark. She shifted in her seat, chewing at her bottom lip until the sting of it brought her back to the present.

A sound broke the stillness.

Soft at first, almost like a trick of her imagination. She froze, the pen caught mid-word.

Then it came again. Her heart was pounding out of her chest.

A slow, measured footstep echoes against the floor.

Her heart lurched. She told herself it was nothing, a janitor, another student who had slipped in unnoticed. But the steps didn’t sound hurried or careless. They were deliberate. Confident.

Her gaze darted toward the central aisle. Nothing. Just the shadows shifting as the lamps flickered.

Another step. Closer this time.

Maya straightened in her chair, pulse hammering in her throat. “The library’s closed,” she called out, her voice sharper than she meant, pitched too high.

Silence answered her, long enough for her to wonder if she'd imagined it. Then, low and quiet, curling through the air like smoke, a chuckle.

The sound skated along her skin, raising goosebumps.

She turned in her seat, her eyes searching the dim corridor. He stood at the end of the aisle, tall and still, a shadow cut against the overhead lamp. She couldn’t make out his features, not yet, but she caught the sharpness of his jaw, the tilt of his head, the ease of his posture. Like he’d been there a while. Like he was amused she’d finally noticed.

Maya’s fingers curled against the edge of the table. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice softer now, unsteady.

He stepped closer, one hand brushing lazily across the spines of the books as he passed. “Neither are you but I’m pretty sure you invited me here.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “I’m… studying.”

“After hours?” His mouth curved, the faintest grin catching the light. “Looks more like hiding.”

Her breath snagged in her throat. She should tell him to leave. She should pack her things and walk out, right now, before the silence between them grows heavier. But something in the way his voice rolled, low, amused, testing, made her hesitate.

He stopped just short of the table, leaning slightly into her space without touching her. His scent carried on the air, warm cedar and smoke, threaded with something expensive and deliberate that didn’t belong in a dusty library. His eyes caught the light, sharp and unflinching, a shade too dark to be read easily.

He wasn’t Jace. Lena and Maya had different types. There was nothing polished or boy-next-door about him. He had the kind of presence that belonged outdoors, broad shoulders stretching against a flannel that looked worn but not careless, the sleeves rolled to reveal forearms roped with muscle. His build was solid, powerful in a way that spoke less of gym hours and more of labor, of splitting wood or carrying weight because it needed to be done. His jaw was strong, marked by the rough shadow of stubble, and his mouth curved with the faintest suggestion of mockery, like he already knew a secret she hadn’t spoken aloud.

Details stood out as he stepped closer: the scuffed leather boots, the silver ring on his thumb, the faint scar that traced a pale line from his temple down to his cheekbone. Everything about him carried contradiction, expensive cologne layered over work-worn hands, a stranger’s ease wrapped around a body that looked built to take up space.

He was the kind of man who didn’t ask permission. The kind who looked at you once and made you forget how to breathe.

“What do you want?” she asked.

His lips parted, and when he spoke, the words slid under her skin. "To see if you'd look up."

His smile deepened. “And you did.”

The air between them was too thin, stretched taut like a wire about to snap. Maya tried to swallow, but her throat refused to work. She’d been reckless before, scribbling her secrets into late-night chats, but this, this was different. This was the fantasy she had never dared to believe would breathe itself into reality.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, the words trembling even as she tried to make them sharp.

His smile only deepened, deliberate, slow. “Neither should you. But here we are.”

Maya’s pulse hammered. She wanted to scoff, to wave him off like some arrogant intruder, but the way he carried himself, unhurried, assured, like he belonged in the shadows, made her sit frozen in her chair. Her notes blurred into nothing. The silence around them thickened.

He leaned one hand on the table, fingers splayed near her scattered pens, so close she could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “Tell me,” he said softly, “are you hiding? Or waiting?”

Her chest tightened. The question mirrored the ones she had answered before, typed into glowing boxes in the dead of night, words that had always felt safer when she could hit the delete key. Now there was no delete. Just him. His voice. His eyes.

“I’m…studying,” she tried again, though the excuse tasted like ash on her tongue.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just enough to let her know he didn’t buy it. “That’s not what you told me. You told me you were wanting something specific.”

The world tipped. Maya’s heart stumbled against her ribs. She blinked at him, stunned. “What did you…”

His hand shifted, just slightly, a single fingertip grazing the edge of her notebook. The slightest touch, but it made her whole body spark like a struck match. "You think anonymity protects you," he murmured. "But it doesn't. Not from me."

Her breath caught. Her mind raced backward, through weeks of messages, secrets sent under a name that wasn’t hers. It gave her such a rush finally meeting the guy she had been talking to. The one she had sent pictures to. The one she had told her dark fantasies to.

Her chair creaked as she pushed back an inch, desperate for distance she didn’t really want. “You don’t know me,” she whispered with a devilish smirk.

His gaze locked on hers, unwavering. Then, so subtle she almost thought she imagined it, his finger traced the edge of her paper, drifting higher until it brushed the inside of her wrist. A fleeting touch, a single point of contact, yet it unraveled her composure in an instant. She hadn’t planned on letting things spiral during this first encounter, but the heat flooding her body betrayed her restraint. She could already feel the damp ache of arousal building, her body answering him long before her mind allowed the permission.

The jolt raced up her arm, flooding her veins with heat. She should move. She should protest. Instead, she sat, transfixed, as he leaned closer. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, meant only for her.

“Funny,” he said, “because I know exactly what you want. Have you changed your mind? Maybe you just need to see me tonight and be assured that you are safe.”

Maya’s lips parted, though no words came. The silence swallowed them whole, wrapping tight around her, pulling her toward something she had sworn she would never let herself reach for.

And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he drew back, leaving her flushed and trembling in her chair. His retreating footsteps echoed down the dark aisle, each one fading like a promise left hanging in the air. When the heavy door finally closed behind him, relief swept through her, but it carried a pang of disappointment with it.

He was real. Everything he’d claimed to be: attractive, commanding, and unnervingly attuned to her unspoken boundaries. The adrenaline humming in her veins would keep her awake for hours, enough to pretend she could finish the work abandoned on the table. But beneath that thin layer of focus, her body was still thrumming, wet, wanting, and restless for more.

She leaned back in her chair, the silence pressing in once more. Her eyes darted toward the aisles, scanning for movement, for witnesses. Nothing. The library was still. Empty, except for her.

Her chest rose and fell, sharp and uneven. She pressed her thighs together, the ache insistent, impossible to ignore. She wasn’t going to get anything done if she kept herself in this state. She needed a release. She told herself she needed to focus, to settle down and get something done before the night slipped away completely. But her body was louder than her mind, trembling with the ghost of his nearness.

With one last glance over her shoulder to make sure the shadows held no one else, Maya let herself give in. Her hand slid lower, her breath catching as she relived the brush of his finger, the intensity of his gaze. Relief shuddered through her, sharp and hot, leaving her weak and wanting even as clarity returned.

It wasn’t enough. Not close. But it would quiet her for now, just long enough to gather her notes, straighten her papers, and pretend the library was still only hers.