Page 38 of Misconducts & Temptation

Elodie. The name rolled around in my mind, unsettling me. I knew I’d seen her before. It wasn’t just the other day when she walked in on me getting my dick sucked by some girl, turning so red I thought she might faint. That had been amusing, sure. But there was something more.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She finally looked up, her eyes meeting mine for a brief second before darting away. "I don't think so."

But she was lying. I could tell by the way she bit her lip, a nervous habit that hinted at familiarity. My lips curved into a smirk as I remembered her flushed face from Friday.

"I know I've seen you before," I said, taking a step closer. "You walked in on me last week."

Her face reddened again, confirming my suspicion. "I was just doing my job," she mumbled.

"Sure you were." My smirk widened as she squirmed under my gaze.

But it wasn’t just that moment that bothered me—it was something deeper. A feeling gnawed at me like I should know more about this girl than just a fleeting encounter in a locker room.

Why did it feel like we were connected somehow?

"Was there anything else?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I really need to go."

She turned to leave, but something inside me didn't want her to leave. I reached out, grabbing her wrist. She froze, turning to look at me, and suddenly, a wave of déjà vu hit me hard.

Her scent—vanilla with a hint of roses—filled the air between us. It was so familiar it nearly knocked the breath out of me.

"Did you go to the masquerade over the weekend?" I asked, my grip tightening involuntarily.

"W-what? No, of course not," she stammered, trying to pull her wrist away.

"Why not?" I pressed. "Everyone was allowed."

She tugged harder, but I didn’t let go. "Just because the invitation says everyone doesn't mean I'm allowed."

There was an edge to her voice that struck a chord deep within me. That tone—it wasn’t just familiar; it was like an echo from another time or place.

"It's really starting to bother me," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

"What is?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"This... feeling," I said, loosening my grip slightly but not letting go entirely. "Like I know you from somewhere else. Not just from here."

She blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback by my words. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The locker room's usual clatter seemed distant, as if we were in a bubble of our own making.

"Look," she finally said, her voice softer now but still firm. "I need to go. I have class."

I stared at her, the sense of familiarity gnawing at my insides. "I'm looking for someone," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need... Are you sure you didn't go?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide and uncertain. "What would I even wear?" she asked, her tone tinged with exasperation.

"The girl I'm looking for wasn't wearing anything special, but..." I let my voice trail off, studying her reaction. "I have a mask. Do you think?—"

"No," she cut me off, shaking her head more vehemently. "I... I need... Look, if she forgot her mask, maybe, I don't know, make a post about it on social and see who responds? But I didn't forget anything there because I didn't go."

My eyes narrowed as her words sunk in. "I never said she forgot her mask," I said slowly. "Or that it was a she."

The realization hit me like a slap in the face.

"It's you," I said, the words escaping before I could stop them. "Holy fuck, it's you."

Her eyes widened with panic, and in that moment, I knew I was right. She was the girl from the masquerade—the one who had slipped through my fingers.

---