Page 73 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chloe

Ihate Christmas.

Those are the words I’d easily say when this holiday season started. In fact, I could easily say those words ever since the car accident that took my parents. But not right now. Right now, I’m rushing around my house, trying to do last minute decorating in preparation of my blind date with a stranger. An almost stranger.

I watched a Christmas movie! That has to be saying something.

With tinsel in hand, I frantically drape it over the mantle, cursing under my breath as I snag my sweater on an errant hook. The clock on the wall ticks mercilessly, each second bringing me closer to the moment he’ll arrive.

Ten o’clock, he said. Be blindfolded, naked, legs spread, and waiting for him.

My heart races as I glance at the clock again. Nine thirty. I’ve wasted too much time on these pointless decorations. What was I thinking? This isn’t about Christmas cheer. It’s about following his instructions to the letter.

I hurry to my bedroom, shedding clothes as I go. The sweater falls to the floor, followed by my jeans and undergarments. Goosebumps cover my legs and arms from anticipation and nerves.

The blindfold sits on my nightstand, a strip of red silk that will soon plunge me into darkness.

I glance at the time again. 9:36.

Is time even moving? I can’t exactly stand here naked and wait for twenty-four minutes.

Impatience grips me, and I start to pace. What if he’s early? What if he’s late?

I force myself to take a deep breath. I need to calm down. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To feel something other than the emptiness that’s consumed me since the accident. To push my boundaries, to lose control.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the silk blindfold, I try to soothe the manic raging within. The material of the red silk is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within me.

9:38. Yeah... time is nearly frozen. It has to be.

I get up to check the front door to make sure it’s unlocked. It’s only the seventh time I’ve done this, but why not be sure?

As I reach for the doorknob, a rational thought occurs to me. What if someone else walks in? What if it’s not him? What if he arrives with a gang and— I shake off the paranoid thoughts and confirm the door is indeed unlocked. Returning to my bedroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.

I’m naked. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me—eyes wide with a mix of fear and fire, cheeks flushed, hair slightly disheveled from my frantic decorating. Is this really me? Am I really going through with this?

What would Jack say if he saw me like—

What. The. Fuck.

Why is Jack entering my thoughts? I haven’t even heard from him since our Chinese food and movie date. Our date was so sweet, so much fun and so... vanilla. The man didn’t even kiss me. When was that going to happen? Was it even going to happen at all?

I shake my head, trying to banish thoughts of Jack from my mind. This isn’t about him. This is about me, about exploring a vital part of myself that I’ve kept locked away for far too long. I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves.

Nine forty-five. Fifteen minutes to go.

I can’t wait any longer. With trembling hands, I pick up the blindfold and secure it around my eyes. The world goes dark, and my other senses immediately heighten. The chill of the air against my skin feels more pronounced, the sound of my own breathing louder.

I position myself on the bed as instructed—legs spread, ready, waiting. The silk sheets beneath me feel cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the heat coming from my body. I try to steady my breathing, but it’s impossible. My heart is racing, my mind a whirlwind of anticipation and fear. Every sound makes me jump. Is that him at the door? No, just the house settling. A car passing outside. The neighbor’s dog barking.

Time loses all meaning in the darkness. Has it been minutes? Hours? I resist the urge to remove the blindfold and check the clock. Following his instructions is crucial. It’s all part of the game, the surrender of control.

It’s just me and my thoughts right now. Did I shave my legs well enough? I rub my heel on my shin to test the smoothness. Yes, I did. But what about—

The sound of knocks on the door, just as he said he would, jolts me from my thoughts. I tense. Three knocks. Slow, deliberate.

I know I have to wait two minutes now. That was his dictate. His rules.

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