"NEW MESSAGE from Ross<3" popped up onto my worn phone screen. With a grin, I let out a playful moan and clicked the OK button to open the text.
"I love you," it read. Funny, how three words, that separately are irrelevant, mean so much when put together. As I slid my phone open to reply, it made the sound of a water droplet, signaling another text from him: "Walk forward three steps, close your eyes, then turn around." Obeying his orders, I walked the steps, shut my eyes tight, and twirled so I was facing the direction I had just come in. I smiled to myself, thinking of what surprise was awaiting me.
A cool wind tickled the back of my neck as a gravelly voice spat out, "Hands in front of you, legs apart." That voice did not belong to Ross, my boyfriend of two weeks. Scared, I widened the distance between my two feet, and stretched out my callused hands, worn from months of sculpting, in front of me, palms upwards and slightly cupped.
Ross' voice was gentle and deep, and every word rolled off of his tongue so fluently and effortlessly that it seemed like each sentence he murmured was carefully thought out. His hair was short, upswept with gel and product. His dark locks always looked lush against his tan, muscled face, his jaw line clearly defined because of the cut. He was good looking, and every girl admitted he had at least one good thing going for him. If they didn't like the hair, it was the eyes. Bright green with a twinkle suggesting the mischievous, daring side of him, and dark, lengthy eyelashes framing the orbs in a very put-together, yet not-quite-finished style. What really got me, though, was his personality. A little shy, but once you got to know him, he was game for being the one who goes all-out. Most of all, the need for everyone around him to be comfortable at all times.
I was not feeling the least bit comfortable. The man had gone silent, leaving me wondering if he had left or was waiting for me to react to his absence of sound. I could sense a presence, and I was almost certain I felt the air current from his breath. If I could feel his breathing, that must mean he's less than a few feet away.
My head started throbbing, like it was too stressed out by trying to puzzle the situation together, piece by piece. It seemed like a few shapes were missing from this game. Who was this? What was he attempting? Would I be hurt? Where's Ross?
