The Classy Thirteen

Prank

Samyra's POV

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind restless despite how utterly exhausted I was. The long hours of travel, the rush of navigating through unfamiliar streets, and the excitement of being in London should've knocked me out by now. But sleep didn't come. It wouldn't.

Because of him.

I turned onto my side, curling into the soft blanket, but even the comfort of the plush hotel bed wasn't enough to distract me from the thoughts racing through my mind. Those green eyes were all I could think about-sharp, intense, and haunting.

I'd only caught glimpses of him, but they were enough to leave me restless, my heart pounding every time I replayed those moments in my head. I hadn't even seen his full face; it had been hidden behind that damn black mask. Yet I was sure-so sure-that he was handsome. More handsome than I could even imagine.

The first time I saw him was on the train earlier today.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling again, my chest tight with frustration. Who was he? What did he want from me?

My thoughts spun as I tried to make sense of it all. And then I remembered.

It wasn't the first time.

The mall. It had to be him.

A week ago, when I was out shopping with my friends, a man had bumped into me. It was nothing, just a fleeting moment, but when I'd looked up, his green eyes met mine. I'd brushed it off, thinking I'd never see him again. But now, there was no denying it. It was him.

I sat up in bed, running my hands through my hair, trying to piece it all together. Why did he keep appearing in my life? Why me? And why the mask?

Despite the unease creeping up my spine, I couldn't stop the growing urge to see him again. I wanted answers. I wanted to rip that mask off his face and demand to know who he was, why he kept following me, and why I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the room.

I froze.

My heart pounded in my chest, loud and unsteady. For a moment, I didn't move, the sound hanging in the air like a threat-or a promise.

Was it him?

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. Each step toward the door felt heavier than the last, the silence of the room suddenly deafening.

I paused in front of the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the handle. Slowly, I twisted the lock and pulled it open.

The hallway stretched out before me, empty.

But as I glanced down, I saw it.

A black envelope resting on the floor. My name was scrawled across the front in an elegant, unfamiliar handwriting.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

I stepped back into the room, closing the door behind me, my pulse quickening as I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single card, the words written in the same sharp handwriting:

"I'm closer than you think."

My breath hitched, my heart racing as I stared at the note. He wasn't done with me-not even close.

I didn't close the door.

Something inside me didn't want to. Not because I was afraid, but because I wasn't. Not even a little.

I walked back to the bed and sat down, my fingers brushing over the black envelope that now rested on the bedside table. His words still echoed in my mind. I'm closer than you think.