'Moon Shapes'

Chapter 7: Part 3: (Dannity)

Riley sounded extra velvety; seductive; kind of like someone I used to know, (I'm not rather fond - or wanting for that matter - to bother thinking of that situation - feels like sucha life-time ago) with his ever-fluent southern drawl; given him a charming effect. Wait? It really does sound familiar.

"I've been waiting to find you alone...?" he purred.

He could cut through cold butter with his smooth talkin'.

"...Which hasn't been easy since you seem to prefer sulking in the presence of others." Inching closer. I added another step between us, within the same second.

His walk even appeared to have changed. He strolled with more... composure; a greater confidence had overwritten the guy I had met first week of orientation. His clothes even looked more suitable for a... metro-sexual; or even a dressed-to-impress rich boy, than what he usually was in: t-shirt; jeans or too many pocket khakis, along with battered tennis shoes.

"H... h... how've you been?" I clumsily asked.

A sinister smile twisted his face. His hand reaching to his chin while he slowly walked about.

"Well, let's see... I left you, and your frolick-able friend that afternoon. I ran home and dressed to the appropriate attire for such an occasion..." He paused as he gathered that I was interrogating internally his odd behavior.

"I..." Seemingly, catching up to his unconcluded thought after the metaphorical bright light had gone off above my head.

"... I wanted to surprise you with a proposed invitation to coffee... maybe, see where we could go from there..." He stopped, searching my eyes with an exuberant, and curious gaze.

"I thought you may have liked that, but my grand gesture was rapped as I wheeled around the corner to your door. Someone, or thing - rather, was waiting for me as I psyched myself to knock on your dorm-room door.

I stammered back, bumping my lower derriere against the back of an over-sized sitting chair, as my fingers fingered the accustomed synthetic material. I dared not to let my view be taken away from him; by this new adversary of an obstacle. Sinking his tale within my mind wholly; I was crippled in my own head's words. He must've guessed I was flabbergasted.

"...something evidently knew what I had planned..." He began again. "... or at most, predicted - I mean, I am a romantic after all... at least I was for that last night."

I took in the explicit words in reverence; as if he was telling a plot from some marvelous story that for the life of it, you couldn't put it down.

I had this sinking feeling; the indirect hints he had been pushing were towards me; that they were more than just him wanting me to play a guessing game of 'who's who of the killing kind.' He knew that I knew exactly what had happened. He could read the answer in the hazard blazing within my coffee eyes.

"Some-one you must've made quite the impression on or simply bad timing for my part... because the gift given to me was what could only be described in some cultures as an 'ultimate cursed offering' - HELL!" he bellowed.

Emotion stretched between my vocal chords. My hidden left hand digging drastically for that friggin' wooden pencil that suddenly sprung to the forefront of memory; not when I need the damn thing during class, but, here... in these kinds of situations.

"I... don't know what you're talking about." He a few steps away, closing the gap, even more so, between us.

His eyes now sparkling an empty amber - more like glowed by the beam of light creasing from the moon.

"I wanted us to be more..." his hand curled out, reaching toward my cheek, "... I still do." he whimpered.

The back of his fingers finally touching with a boiling affect; as if they each were individual flames. Strange and not at all, what I had expected his stroke to remotely resemble.

A rippling effect cascaded along my shoulder to my forearm, down to the back of my palm. I jerked back, stunned by the scorching feeling; unconsciously touching the few inches of skin, feeling the unwelcomed warmth.

He retracted his hand at the immediate juddered reaction; displaying a sort of discomfort, as though I had caused him some tremendous pain.

I gandered to the floor, not sure of knowing what to say.

"I... still want to be with you, Dannity." He whispered.

Heat swept through, barricading me within the few feet of my surroundings. I forced the dizziness screeching within my head to subside from the seething wave of high temperature and raised my head to face this head on; to say something... anything... until eyes looked upon an empty room - he was gone.

I had been frozen to the second floor of the library for a handful of minutes, trying to analyze what the slightest of plausible solutions to what I unmistakably bared witness to. I wasn't sure how to process this. Shock didn't cover any of my broad range of emotions. My first instinct: run!

Run, like you were made for the Olympic track team.

Run hard as if an evil cave-troll-woman was hungrily wanting to take you inside an elaborate hidden cave and precede to part your girly privates with the four little, black needle hairs that protruded from her gnarly chin.

Then... as you're safely behind the locked doors of your home and only then, shall you begin to dementedly freak the yuckards out!

Also, possibly get out the book of weirdness; psychoanalyze this night with Nikki, maybe she could help with some better conclusion than the slight creep opinion that I had scraped up.