Piqued My Interest Novels & Stories

I muttered, and continued walking as normal. “Mm, but you've not told me what's supping?” Zeeb suddenly said, as he nudged my shoulder. “Goodness Zeeb, can't you just mind your business.” I heaved, a long sigh out of my lips. Zeeb shook his head resolutely. "No, I can't simply ignore this. I'm genuinely intrigued by you and this woman you're involved with." Frowning with impatience, I demanded, "What exactly is piquing your curiosity?"

Or, was he teasing me? “I'm not interested."

"It’s not hard to find you when you’re someone I’m *interested* in." His words hit me like a slap to the face, but I wasn’t about to let him see how much that bothered me. Instead, I scoffed, crossing my arms and leaning into my own frustration. "Interesting," I said, barely able to mask my sarcasm. "You’re so *interested* in me, yet at the party, when Damien was around, you seemed very good at *ignoring* me."

So I decide to rephrase the question. “What is it about me that you find so interesting? I mean before we met - you had added me as a chat pal and took the time to actually remember our conversations.” It may sound odd but I couldn’t help but be curious. It just didn’t add up in any scenarios I could think of. He looks at me with an awkward smile as if I had missed the obvious.

“It’s a force of habit, okay? I’m working on it. Now we can enjoy our lunch.” *** After lunch, Ava busied herself scrolling over her phone for some movie. The thought of that guy’s name was still pestering her. Fueled by her curiosity to tie up some loose ends. “Here goes nothing,” she said as she typed Elliot Sphene on the f******k search bar. “What are the odds? You’re a sitting duck.” She muses while staring at the only result that came through. “Looks like somebody is in the mood. Getting a boyfriend yet? Do I have to give you away for marriage soon?”

She followed up, and even though I was looking at my food, I could feel their eyes waiting for me to answer that. It's a simple question, but for me, it's a bit mind-boggling. I don't know what I'm interested in right now. Being popular, I guess, but that's not the answer that that question's looking for. I used to like football, but lately, I've been feeling interested in nothing.

My mind has a way of tuning thing it sees as unnecessary. “Did the individual that gave you this information also tell you all what this said people did?” I sound bored. Uninterested. That is also how I feel. Nothing tends to interest me anymore. Not like there was ever a time that I found interest in anything that does not pertain to my girl. That is the exact reason why I am beginning to get pissed that these people are unconsciously keeping me from going to her. And I just know that something is not right.

Sarah couldn't get the mysterious hotel owner out of her head. She had spent the rest of her shift replaying the encounter in her mind, trying to make sense of the strange emotions he had stirred within her. As she walked home, her thoughts were still consumed with him. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment, whether he was thinking about her too. It was silly, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She was intrigued. When she got home, Sarah flopped down on her couch and pulled out her phone. She couldn't resist the urge to look up the hotel owner online. She found a few articles about him, describing him as a successful entrepreneur who had built his fortune from the ground up.

Can't afford to waste food. While I was going back I realize something. I forgot to ask his name! A/N in all honesty? I love Greyson's selective muteness😅

Moved on from our memories. So why did Marcus sound like him? I edged closer, hidden by the pillar, breath lodged painfully high in my chest. “Anyway,” the man continued, “you still chasing that thrill?” Marcus hummed. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I did stumble across something… intriguing.” “Yeah? What kind of intriguing?” There was a pause. A long one. I felt it in my bones. “The kind that doesn’t know she’s intriguing,” Marcus said. My heartbeat staggered.