My Pulse

Chapter 2: Cian O'Shea

It won't be long until those fuckers get what's coming to them, I think, as dangerous desire rushes through my body. A wicked smile slowly takes over my face. It's all thanks to her.

It's been over a month since I started following her, and I've been looking forward to meeting her in person. The way our eyes lock in that café, however, is another story. That is exhilarating, and I've never felt anything like it before.

It's like our souls lock onto one another, and it's almost impossible to get up out of my chair. I'll admit I never imagine that I'll actually get attached to this girl, but over the weeks, she's grown on me.

I find her intriguing and see interest in everything she does. It floors me to find out that she's not a princess in any sense of the word. I find her mostly around men, joking like she's one of the guys. Even more unusual, she seems more comfortable with them than her girlfriends.

I catch her playing pool and darts late at the bar, and she knows how to drink a pint. I once watch her beat everyone in the bar at billiards, and it takes everything in me not to walk up and challenge her on the spot.

My train of thought breaks when I hear her erupt into laughter with—wait, who is this now? Rory is on her couch in her apartment. I'm less than pleased that Quinn might know I'm watching her, as she invites her friend to stay with her. For how long? Who knows, possibly indefinitely. So incredibly inconvenient.

Rory is no threat to me whatsoever, but I'm bothered by another male sleeping in her home. I stare with narrowing eyes toward my laptop. I've had cameras installed in Quinn's apartment for a little over a month, and since then, I've learned many things about her.

Like the way she always snacks after she brushes her teeth or how she sings to the famous tune "Galway Girl" while she cooks. She loves to dance around her kitchen in underwear, an old t-shirt, or a hoodie. I'm pretty sure my princess doesn't even own a dress.

I love the way she sleeps the most, though. It's the most peaceful thing I've ever seen. That night, her dark brown hair, which is almost black, I realize, curls softly over her pillow. Quinn is wrapped around a large body pillow in the middle of her bed. Her lips are parted, and she's—what is this?

My thoughts shift as I notice her twitch in my feed and turn over restlessly. "Mhm Mhm," she mutters sleepily as she grasps her pillow, pulling it tighter toward her body.

"Wait," she says unmistakably. "Wait," she repeats as she rolls over again with an exasperated sleepy huff. I stare at the camera with vigilance, determined to figure out what she's dreaming about that makes her so unsettled.

She never moves during the night. Quinn amazes me with her ability to sleep. It's like her own personal superpower. The second her head hits the pillow, it's lights out, and her angelic features are painted with an expression of sleepy wonder.

Quinn is so peaceful that when I start watching her, it takes everything in me not to break into her apartment to check if she's breathing.

That night, I can't escape the look she gives me when I softly run my hand down her cheek. It's a rush to touch her finally. To be so close to her, it's almost torture not to steal her away right then and there.

I have to be patient, though, to win the long race, and I intend to do so. Quinn will soon be mine.

My eyes dart back to the monitor in shock as Quinn wakes up in a panic, sitting up straight and cussing loudly into the dark room.

She rolls over to turn the bedside lamp on and swiftly gets out of bed to go into the bathroom. Quinn isn't in the bathroom long before she walks out to turn the light on in the kitchen. She opens the fridge, pulls out the remaining piece of pizza, and bites into it while starting the electric tea kettle.