The faint glow of the moon glisten through the drapes over his tanned skin, daring me to awaken all the forbidden desires I kept buried in my thoughts.
"Use me," He whimpers as my knees stoop to the floor,
❝... I am rightfully and solely yours, Aa...
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I NEVER knew the depth of desperation until I opened that letter. All my thoughts hungered the answers to how many secrets will I get myself tangled in, and will it be worth chewing my absolute sanity?
However, that was my fallacy of grief talking, but I knew what my initial thought was:
What will I wear?
Days flew by and classes seemed irrelevant as I waited for another update from this so-called society to send me another clue—which they did.
It was finally Friday, and the first week of classes were over as I headed upstairs until the front desk called out to me.
"Miss Brown," the female clerk shouted my name, and I turned to the direction of the voice.
"Yes?"
"You had a package delivered to you during lunch block." The woman reached below her desk then placed a lengthy-long, black box that had a shiny red lace tied around it with a note.
Striding over to the desk, my face consumed with confusion. My parents didn't mention sending me anything over the phone yesterday.
It clicked as I saw the box up close.
It seemed dangerously romantic to a woman's eye that even the clerk thought it was a boyfriend that had sent it.
"Ms. Brown, tell your boyfriend that he cannot deliver such gifts like these, but personally-" The lady with heartily dimples leaned closer to me in a whisper, "I think it is romantic."
"Well Miss-" I look at her name tag, "Alicia, I do not have a boyfriend. What did the person that delivered this look like?"
Her hopeless romantic eyes dampened at my response, "It was the regular delivery guy. No one that isn't a student or staff can enter the building without notice from the head principal."
Interesting.
"Well, it looks like I have a secret admirer."
Grabbing the luxurious box from the desk, I made fast-paced strides up the stairs until I reached my dorm. I made sure to lock my bedroom door behind me. I felt like I was harboring an atomic bomb that wouldn't erupt until my command.
Unwrapping the red bow from the box, I grabbed the white note that had a cursive message decorated:
The color would look to-die for on you. There will be a car picking you up at 6 pm sharp.
Don't be late, Aaliyah.
-IF
My heart raced a beat with curiosity—not the childish anticipation of wanting to know, but the dreading of should I know.
