Page 52 of King of Hollywood

As right as Felix had in my arms the first time I’d held him and the monster inside me had opened its eyes.

The weight of the unused condoms was almost soothing. It was a reminder that we would have more nights like this. That the tragedy Felix thought his life was, wouldn’t come to be. The clouds opened up above us, blocking out the stars, and rain poured down on the night-black roads. Ignoring the rumble of thunder, and the shimmery slick reflections that danced on the quiet streets, Felix and I sped through town late into the night.

The rain fell and fell and fell.

Lightning flared along the treetops.

Felix took off the hat I’d bought him. He tipped his head back against the headrest like he’d done in my car. He didn’t speak. Just closed his eyes, and relaxed in the silence. When the torrent of rain softened, he rolled the window down—manually with the lever on the door.

I pulled to a stop at a red light, my mouth dry as I took the opportunity to watch water droplets slip through the open window and decorate his ivory skin.

He was porcelain perfect, like a doll almost.

Angelic, even at times like this.

Times that should’ve been ordinary, but weren’t. It was only Friday. It was only rain. But it was…more than that too. Felix elevated everything he touched. The more I looked at him, the more certain I was that I’d never tire of those soft, sweet lips. Never tire of the shadows beneath his eyes, or the little mole beneath his eye—the one I really wanted to kiss.

Felix’s dark roots hadn’t grown back in, but the nearly black shade of his brows made it obvious, even now, that blond was not his natural color.

It suited him, but I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like without the bleach. Would the raven-esque strands make him appear paler than he already did? Or would they lend his milky complexion color?

Why dye his hair at all? Was it another part of his disguise?

Felix was so still as he listened to the rain.

Deathly still.

So still, if he’d been lying inside a casket he would have looked at home.

His chest didn’t move, and no breaths slipped from his lips as he remained relaxed against the vintage leather of his frankly fantastic car. He fit in more here than he had at the fair. More than he did even in his own home. There was something about this car that rang…true somehow.

Once again, I got the feeling that I was missing something.

Something vital.

But…as I stole glances to the right, memorizing the way the flashes of thunder lit him up—I realized I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the murder. I didn’t care about the secrets, the rumors, or the fact I’d never wanted someone before.

I wanted Felix.

I wanted him so badly there was nothing I wouldn’t give to have him.

My sanity included.

When Felix finally opened his eyes, relief flooded my body. It wasn’t that I’d actually thought he’d died while sitting in the passenger seat. It was just reassuring to know he hadn’t?

For a man that often fantasized about death, I was sure frightened of Felix’s.

I knew better than anyone how quickly a life could end.

Intimately, even.

I decided then, as I watched his lips curl into a soft smile, his pointy teeth flashing—that I would rather die than let something bad happen to Felix. He was mine. He just…maybe didn’t know it yet.

And at the end of the night, when we returned to the parking lot to split ways, I didn’t kiss him even though I wanted to.

I didn’t kiss him because, though I knew I wanted to keep him, I didn’t know how exactly to make that happen yet. I wasn’t ready for the physical side of a relationship. Tonight had been a dream, really truly, even before I’d driven the car of my fantasies. Tomorrow, the cold harsh reality of my inexperience would come rushing back in.

I’d do more research.