As Frida crossed the dimly lit road to the dorm, the deafening roar of sports cars tore through the air like a thunderstorm.
The headlights streaked past, casting long, erratic shadows on the pavent. Her scream pierced the night, and for a mont, ti seed to slow.
Bright lights blinded her, flashing like an unsettling strobe, and her breath hitched as the last car swerved dangerously close.
The sleek vehicle spun effortlessly, its tires screeching in smooth, calculated circles.
Her heart pounded like a drum, and her throat tightened.
In the driver’s seat, a man with stormy grey eyes locked onto hers, his smirk a slow, deliberate tease.
There was sothing maddeningly confident about the way he bit his lower lip, the motion deliberate, calculated.
LAZ.
Frida’s knees weakened, a strange heat rushing through her.
She could swear, by legions of angels, that he winked at her before speeding off, the sleek car disappearing into the night.
Her stomach tightened, butterflies in a frenzy as the sound of the engines echoed in the air long after they had vanished.
He terrified her. Excited her. Drove her absolutely crazy. Her scoff was shaky, betraying the way her body still humd with adrenaline.
The loud hum of their cars faded into silence, but the rush lingered.
The mory of his piercing grey eyes reminded her of soone, a TikToker Vanessa had been stalking for weeks.
What was his na again? Vinnie Backer? Hacker? Maybe it was the unruly hair, it had been darker, but the resemblance was uncanny.
She smiled despite herself. He loved to play gas, teasing her, leaving her feeling hot and bothered, desperate yet aching to push back. Begging wasn’t her style.
What if she flipped the cards on him? What if she made him feel the way he made her burn?
As she approached the dorm, the drizzle painted the city in a shimring haze.
The cool mist brushed against her cheeks as an idea crept into her mind, nasty, bold, irresistible.
She quickened her pace, a wicked smile tugging at her lips, her breath fogging in the crisp air. The thrill of her plan was intoxicating.
The ani rchandise shop glowed softly through the rain-speckled glass.
Frida stepped inside, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, her fingertips tingling.
The warm, colorful interior was packed with vibrant displays, racks of outrageous outfits, and endless accessories.
Her eyes zeroed in on a pink wig, the color electric and daring. She grabbed it, her fingers brushing against its soft strands.
Her gaze traveled to a red, micro kawaii dress, barely a piece of clothing.
The sweetheart neckline and plush fur trim practically purred seduction, and her heart skipped a beat as she held it up to examine it. Matching socks completed the look.
She smirked, a mory surfacing: Laz, as a kid, obsessing over Darling in the Franxx.
His middle-school room had practically been a shrine to Zero Two, posters covering the walls, trinkets lined up with precision.
Even his ringtone had been the iconic Darling sound. She chuckled softly. What a hopeless nerd.
Back in her ssy dorm room, the air slled faintly of rain and damp wool.
Frida dropped her coat to the carpet, her skirt following in a careless heap.
She stood for a mont, biting her lip. Was she crazy? Could she really take such a risk?
Steam curled around her in the shower, the water cascading over her shoulders and easing the tension knotting her muscles.
The heat fueled her resolve, and by the ti she stepped out, her skin glowed.
She threw her earlier pasta into the microwave, the faint hum of the appliance filling the room.
Unpacking her bags, she folded books and pens with half-hearted focus, her mind elsewhere.
The vibrator on her desk caught her eye, and her cheeks flushed.
He made her feel like that too often. She groaned, frustration mixing with the lingering desire simring in her chest.
Curled on her bed, the TV flickered as 1000 Ways to Die played in the background.
She browsed Instagram, scrolling through countless poses, her jaw dropping at so of the scandalously suggestive photos.
Heat flushed her cheeks again as the AC clicked on, cooling the room but doing nothing to temper the fire beneath her skin.
Her gaze landed on an unfamiliar bag in the corner, matching her other shopping bags.
Confusion knit her brows as she set her al aside and crossed the room. She opened it slowly, her breath catching.
Inside sat the plush jellycat she’d admired earlier, its soft fur and button eyes impossibly adorable.
She cradled it in her arms, a grin spreading across her face before she noticed the red note tucked beneath it:
"You looked at it with longing, so every ti you look at it, I want you to yearn for ."
Her laughter filled the room, giddy and light. He was impossible. Her romantic, maddening stalker.
The jellycat perched on her bed as she stripped out of her oversized hoodie.
The red, fluffy set felt heavenly against her skin as she pulled it on, the socks a perfect match.
She positioned the pink wig over her hair, the mirror reflecting soone new, bolder, daring, irresistible.
She swiped pink lip gloss across her lips, the shimr catching the dim light.
A red lollipop from the fridge added the final touch, its cool surface sweet against her tongue.
Frida climbed onto her bed with the grace of a feline, her back arching as she leaned forward.
The demon horn headband sat snugly on her head, completing the look. The cara clicked.
The picture was sensual, daring, perfect. Her stomach twisted with nerves as she sent it, a simple Thank you for the jellycats accompanying the image.
When the ssage marked seen, panic seized her.
She scrambled back into her oversized hoodie, her cheeks burning, burying herself under the blankets.
The TV droned on as she tried to calm her racing heart.
Teasing her stalker wasn’t on the list, but Pookie the devil was too tempting to resist.
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