BABYGIRL [18+]

- 7 -

Holy shit, he's solid two years older than me.

That's what his Instagram says.

And does he have the perfectly stereotypical IG account with thousands of followers? Yes.

Does he post regularly? Yes.

Oh, and was I stalking his account for the past three and a half hours? Absolutely.

That's the first thing I did once he dropped me home. Firstly, I took a scorching hot shower and slipped into fresh comfy clothes. Yes, it released all that dopamine and endorphins I needed. Then I sat down on my bed and I just began. I just fucking began. However, now I wish I didn't.

I know for a fact he's two years older than me, he's been boxing since early teen and he's the only son born into a family bathed in wealth. 

Val's good. Good at the social game. He's got the perfect Instagram account. The one with many followers, regular posts and stories, filled with highlights and an impeccable bio.

The sweeter the prayer, the greater the sin.

That's all the bio says.

At first glance, it's as innocuous as any other Instagram profile – filled with smiling faces, picturesque landscapes, and the occasional motivational quote. Just a regular man living a regular life, right? But as I scrolled through, a nagging sense of unease crept over me. I spend hours on his page, studying each post. Stalking the people that were on his posts. Was I being paranoid, or did everything seem a little too perfect?

I hesitated before tapping that "Follow" button. Something about it felt off, like a whisper of warning in the back of my mind. And then it hit me like a bolt of lightning: Maybe he wasn't just another guy sharing snapshots of his day. What if it was all just a disguise?

A normal guy wouldn't have so much guts to stare at or talk to me that openly.

A normal guy wouldn't dare give me a hickey, he had only just met me.

A normal guy wouldn't demand to drive me home.

Hell, a normal guy wouldn't just drive around a bloody G-wagon.

I wasn't naive. No, he was more akin to a wolf lurking among sheep, cloaked in the guise of normalcy.

With a chill creeping down my spine, I froze, my fingers hovering above the screen as if suspended by an invisible force. My heart pounding in my chest.

How the bloody fuck did he know my address?

What secrets lay hidden behind those curated photos and carefully crafted captions? And more importantly, did I want to uncover them? The worst of all, I thought I was the stalker here, maybe it's the other way around...