Beneath His Touch

Chapter Eleven

SARAH.

I couldn't catch a single breath of sleep.

I tossed and turned, my mind spinning. It wasn't that his confession was bad—no, that wasn't it at all—but something about it felt off, unsettling. I mean, I barely know him, and he barely knows me. Think about it from my perspective for a second—would you just say yes to someone you hardly know? Don't get me wrong, I didn't exactly say yes, but I didn't decline either. He asked me to take my time, to consider it, and I suppose I will. From everything I've heard, Jerry is kind, laid-back, and a complete gentleman. On paper, he's exactly the type of guy I'd want.

But then there's Brian. He was the same—so nice, maybe even too nice—and that killer smile? That was what really hooked me, pulled me in.

"Huh!" The thought of him makes me fling the covers off and get out of bed, my heart racing with restless energy.

"Is everything okay?" Amanda's voice breaks through the quiet, her eyes still glued to her textbook as she squints under the soft glow of the desk lamp. It's past eleven, and yet there she is, still studying.

"No, it's nothing," I mutter, already heading toward the balcony, needing the fresh air.

I stretched as I walked out onto the balcony, yawning as the cool night breeze brushed against my skin. It was so soothing, the kind of breeze that could almost lull me back to sleep. I was dressed simply—an oversized white shirt and green shorts—just enough to feel comfortable. Leaning on the rail, I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the crisp air, before letting my gaze sweep over the night. The rhythmic chirping of crickets filled the quiet, blending with the faint rustle of leaves.

My eyes wandered until they landed on something unusual near the hostel entrance. From the fifth floor, we had a perfect view of the path leading to the academic blocks and, farther down, the hockey pitch. Just there, at the edge of the pitch, I saw him—at least, I think it was a *him*—sitting on a motorcycle. The bike, dark and sleek, looked like a BMW, though I couldn't be sure from this distance. He was dressed in heavy leather biking gear, a helmet covering his face.

Something felt off. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could *feel* his eyes on me, watching me intently, like he could see straight through the shadows. For a moment, I thought I was just being paranoid. I stared at him, waiting for him to move, to break eye contact. But he didn't. He just sat there, motionless, fixed on me. A chill slithered down my spine, making my skin prickle.

I took a step back, my eyes still glued to him, then turned to retreat inside.

"What's the matter?" Amanda asked, not even looking up from her textbook.

"I think... someone's watching our room," I replied, my voice shaky.

"That's impossible," Amanda said with a dismissive scoff.

I faced her, still uneasy. "No, I swear, I think he could see me."

Amanda finally looked up, her brows furrowed in confusion. "All the way up here? Are you serious?"

I nodded, feeling more uncertain as she walked to the balcony, peering into the darkness.

"There's no one out there," she said flatly.

"At the hockey pitch," I insisted, following her. "He was right th—" but he was gone.

Amanda turned to me, shaking her head. "You need some sleep. You're imagining things." With that, she headed back inside, leaving me standing there, still staring at the empty pitch. My heart pounded. He had been there, I was sure of it. But I hadn't even heard the sound of his bike leaving.