Page 31 of Unmasked

“I don’t understand.”

His voice is sarcastic as he releases a humorless laugh. “You didn’t need to send your boyfriend after me.”

My eyes widen, and I jerk back in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He glares at me. “Don’t play dumb, Mallory. You know damn well what you did.”

I shake my head, bewildered that he thinks I had something to do with whatever happened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As I stare at his angry face, I remember running into the masked man during my first tutoring session. A sour taste fills my mouth as my limbs shake, and our conversation by the water fountain rolls through my head.

“Is that jackass making you uncomfortable?”

“How do you know what I’m doing? Are you spying on me?”

“Everything you do is my business, Mallory. I’ve already told you that you’re mine. Now stop this nonsense and answer my question. Is. He. Bothering. You?”

The realization punches me in the gut.

Oh, God. My masked man did this.He went after Adam.

Sure, Adam was a jerk during our session, making me uncomfortable, but this… it’s not right.

“Leave me alone, Mallory. I’m not in the mood for an ass kicking tonight.” His lip curls in disgust as he glares at me before turning and stomping away.

I stand there, holding my beer bottle against my suddenly pounding head.

Like the waves of a rapidly swirling ocean, the anger washes over me. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, my fingers stab the screen as the rush of white-hot rage courses through my veins.

ME: Did you beat up Adam?

I clench my phone, waiting for the three dots to indicate he’s typing. But time moves on… and on… and there’s no response.

ME: You had no goddamn right to intervene. I was handling it.

Still nothing.

Goddamn him. After the intrusive way he’s infiltrated every aspect of my life, how dare that motherfucker ghost me.

Mandy notices the pissed look on my face and grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go dance.”

“Great idea.”

She leads me through the crowd to the makeshift dance floor.

A group of girls walks through the room, a tray of shot glasses on their shoulders. “Shots. Shots. Shots,” the partygoers around us chant.

I’m shaking my hips to the beat when one of the girls comes up beside me. “Would you like a shot?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I grab it from the tray and down it, wincing from the burn and the terrible taste.

“Oh my God.” Mandy grabs my arm, her eyes wide.

“Do you want one?”

She shakes her head, and I shrug. “Okay, then. I’ll have one in your honor.” Grabbing another one from the tray, I toss it back.

Take that, masked man. I hope you’re spying on me.