Chapter Six – Dexter's POV
I wasn't looking for anyone.
Especially not her.
The girl in red.
I'd only seen her once before — slicing through the Quadrant like a streak of blood on white linen. Like violence dressed up in silk. Like something that didn't belong here. And somehow, that made her the most real thing I'd seen in weeks.
The way the fabric clung to her, the way her chin tilted like she didn't care that half the school had stopped breathing — she wasn't just breaking the dress code. She was daring someone to punish her for it.
Everyone stared. Of course they did.
So did I.
Not because I'm like them. Not because I wanted to drool or whisper.
It was something else.
Something about her pulled at the back of my skull. Like a headache forming behind the eyes. A tension. A soundless alarm that only I could hear.
I hadn't meant to follow it.
But today — now — I was wandering.
I do that sometimes. When the air in my head gets too loud. When I need to punch a wall but don't have the excuse. When I can't sit still and can't go home either.
So I walked. Past the gym. Down the east hall. Past lockers and stairwells and kids who didn't notice me because I never gave them a reason to.
I wasn't headed anywhere. Just trying to find a place that didn't feel full.
But the hallway ahead wasn't empty.
It was trembling.
No — not trembling. Ringing.
Like heat rising off pavement. Like the world had gone breathless.
Then came the sound.
A moan.
Low. Pulled from someplace deep.
I froze.
It wasn't loud. But it didn't need to be.
It hit like a strike behind the ribs — sharp, involuntary. I didn't mean to turn toward it. I swear I didn't.
It wasn't curiosity.
It wasn't anything I could explain.
It was gravity.
And the world had just shifted.
A classroom door, just barely open. Golden light leaking into the hallway like something holy. Or maybe something too human.
And then—
Her voice.
Breathless. Staggered. Scarlet.
And I looked.
I didn't mean to. But I did.
She was laid out across the desk like something mythic. Shirt open just enough. Skin flushed. Hair mussed like she'd been claimed by a storm.
And in front of her — between her legs — Drizella.
Drizella.
Face buried. Arms curled tight around Scarlet's thighs like she belonged there.
Scarlet was gasping. Fingers curled tight in hair. Eyes fluttering.
I didn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Because it wasn't just erotic.
It was devastating.
She looked like she was breaking. And liking it.
And I wanted to be the one who did it.
I didn't even know her.
But I wanted to tear Drizella off her like a rabid thing. I wanted to punch holes in walls.
I wanted to feel her voice under my skin, not just echoing in my ears.
She cried out again — sharp, trembling, too real. And something inside me burned.
Jealousy?
No. Worse.
Like I'd been robbed of something sacred before I even knew it belonged to me.
My hand twitched. Fist clenched.
And still, I didn't look away.
Not until I moved too fast.
Boot scraped the floor.
The sound carved through the silence like a blade.
Everything inside the room stopped.
Her body.
Her voice.
Her fingers in Drizella's hair.
Then her eyes opened.
And locked on mine.
Wide. Wet. Shining.
But not scared.
Not embarrassed.
Just... open.
And for a beat, I swear the whole world held its breath.
Then I ran.
I didn't plan to. Didn't know I would.
But the next second, my legs were moving like they had a mind of their own.
One hallway bled into another.
Doors. Stone. Light.
Nothing touched me.
Nothing felt.
Except the sound of her voice still coiled in my chest.
Her moan still inside me like it belonged there.
I didn't stop running until I shoved open a door — some old supply room I hadn't been in since first year.
Dust. Broken furniture. Silence.
I slammed the door shut behind me.
Collapsed onto the cold floor. Back to the wall.
Breathing like I'd run a marathon.
My hands shook.
My skin burned.
I pressed my palms to my eyes until color danced.
> You don't know her.
The thought came again. Bitter. True.
I didn't even know her name.
But my blood was still singing.
Not from arousal. Not just.
From something older. Darker. Something carved into my bones.
Like I'd just seen something I wasn't meant to.
Like I'd touched something forbidden — not with my hands, but with my eyes.
And now it was inside me.
> "What the hell is wrong with me," I whispered.
I wasn't this guy.
I didn't feel this kind of thing.
Girls were never more than moments. Background. A game.
But this?
This wasn't lust.
It was obsession, born in seconds.
Scarlet.
Scarlet.
Scarlet.
I tasted her name and hated how it felt like prayer.
The sound of her. The shape of her.
The way she didn't flinch when she saw me.
The way her moan still echoed in my chest like a melody written for me and stolen.
I sat there for a long time.
Didn't move. Didn't breathe right.
I kept waiting for it to fade.
But it didn't.
And I knew —
Something in me had just shifted.
And I wasn't going back.