Page 13 of SKIN

Funny, wasn’t it? How being attractive gave you a free pass to do something that would seem otherwise threatening.

A handsome football player follows you home and it’s romantic. The start of a love story or some Hallmark shit. The nerdy loner does the same thing and you’re being featured on Dateline or starring in your very own Lifetime movie.

Truth was sometimes it could be both. I just didn’t realize it at the time, struck dumb by the feel of those eyes on me. Otherwise I might not have smiled as wide when he decided to approach me halfway into the fall semester. Or held my breath when it sank in that he was actually talking to me. A nobody. That I hadn’t imagined it. I didn’t even bother to question the fact he didn’t belong on campus anymore.

“Tonight.” He told me. Because Cohen Michaels didn’t ask. He didn’t have to.

I nodded and then he was gone.

The first red flag should have been the fact he never asked me where I lived. Where he should pick me up or even attempted to get my phone number. None of that came to mind as I watched him walk away though.

Instead, I felt lucky. Seen. And girls like me didn’t feel that way often. That was the psychology behind it. Behind growing up the way I did with the parents I had. Mommy and daddy issues made for a deadly combination. Throw us in a room with a true predator and we were easy pickings. Like the slowest gazelle trying to outrun a pack of lions.

I didn’t have a chance.

21

COHEN

Obsession was nothing new to me. Something caught my eye. I became infatuated with it. Needed to know everything about it. Every detail. How it worked and what made it tick. Naturally, medicine became my calling, because there was no more curious an animal than mankind.

Some people would throw a label on that. Something like narcissistic personality disorder with compulsive tendencies. Those people were wrong. I didn’t love myself. I just knew that I was better. It was fact, not opinion.

But nothing had ever captivated me as much as Emily. At first, scrolling through her socials had been enough. Knowing her class schedule and learning her usual coffee order. Then I began following her home. Back and forth between lecture halls. I studied her like I studied the human body. Waiting for the moment boredom would hit and I’d move on to bigger and better shit. Girls never kept me interested long. A few weeks at most. But it had been months and I just wanted… needed more.

So I decided fucking her would put an end to the infatuation. It usually did the trick. Then I’d find someone or something else that would drive my curiosity in another direction.Which was what had me walking up to her and telling her we were going out. Had me pulling up to her dorm and leading her back to my car.

Watching her close up was odd at first. I had to remind myself to do more than stare. To blend in. Converse. Pretend I didn’t know everything about her already.

It took me a good portion of that first night to figure out what it was about her that piqued my interests. But then I realized it was the fact that Emily Shaw was so beautifully broken. And I enjoyed piecing things back together. Repurposing them and making them whole. And she carried so much delicious damage beneath that brittle shell. One quick tap and she’d shatter.

“Eat your food, Emily.” I gestured to the nearly full plate in front of her.The restaurant lighting was ambient but not so dark that I couldn’t make out every detail of her face each time the faux candlelight flickered in her direction.

I noticed how she moved the food around with her fork more than she ate it. She was hungry. I could tell by the way her pupils dilated each time she eyed her meal. But something in her psyche told her she didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to eat. To enjoy her food. That same broken something.

She smiled before taking another tentative bite. The girl also smiled a lot. Almost like she was afraid if she didn’t, she’d cry. And I was addicted to watching her teeter between the two emotions. Pushing her towards the ledge before yanking her back again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and I quirked a curious brow.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For taking me out to dinner. For… making an effort, I guess.” Her cheeks turned that rosy shade of pink I’d yet to see up close. A color that made her eyes so much grayer in comparison.

I reached across the table and closed my fingers around her hand. I could feel her pulse beating at the base of her wrist, the bpms increasing with the slightest touch. “Spending time with you doesn’t take effort, Emily. It’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.”

“You say my name a lot…”

“Do you not like your name, Emily?” I grinned when that pink deepened.

“Never really thought about it, to be honest. But I do like the way you say it.”

“And what way is that?”

She shrugged as she attempted to pull her hand back. I held on tighter. I was making her nervous. I liked making her nervous. “I don’t know. Almost like you’re tasting it.”

Now I was the one grinning. Or maybe smirking. I couldn’t tell the difference when the action wasn’t forced. “I’d much rather taste something else… Emily.”

She sputtered on her water, choking down a few more sips as I gestured for the waiter to bring us the check.

---