Kiss Me, Then Kill Me
1384 Words
Skylar Xylon
The bass hit me like a wave immediately I stepped into the house. Someone handed me a red cup as soon as I walked in through the door
Lights flickered in erratic colors and people were dancing so carefree like nothing in the world could hurt them. The smell of alcohol, sweat and perfume filled the room
Someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward into a hug. “You made it!” Rhea squealed, bouncing with excitement. “I was starting to think you chickened out!”
Before I could say anything, she yanked me toward the middle of the room. “YO EVERYONE, BIRTHDAY GIRL IN THE BUILDING!!” She yelled and suddenly everyone’s attention was on me
They cheered and handed me more cups. I didn’t think I emptied the contents of the previous cups into my mouth
And just like that, I was in it.
Dancing. Laughing. Swaying under flashing lights with strangers who somehow felt like friends. Rhea handed me another drink, and the warmth buzzed through my limbs. I actually let myself laugh when someone pulled me into a group selfie I hadn’t agreed to.
For once, I didn’t feel like a prisoner in my own life. I felt free and independent
Maybe Dad really was just being paranoid.
I turned to grab more drinks from the table, a little dizzy and bumped straight into someone.
The liquid sloshed out of my cup and onto the front of his black shirt.
“Oh my God—I’m so sorry—” I blurted out.
Then I looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
Everything in me short circuited, my brain stuttered and I might have forgotten how to speak for a short while.
The person I bumped into was ethereal. He look too good to be described as handsome.
He was… he was beautiful.
He stood tall, easily over six feet looking at me with those. God.. his eyes were so pretty. They were light blue, almost gray.
His eyes flicked over me once slow and captivating and I could swear my knees buckled. His hair was jet black shiny, flowing past his jaw line framing his face
I finally managed to tear my eyes off his face, noticing his clothes. He looked like he stepped straight out of a Victorian painting. Very formal and tailored
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at me with a strange kind of focus
“Uhhh I—I didn’t mean to spill it,” I stammered, finally finding my voice
He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
“It’s quite alright,” he said finally, and his voice—God—was soft, rich, and clipped with the kind of polish you’d only hear in old movies or poetry readings.
He sounded like he’d grown up with poets and philosophers
His eyes wandered through the party like he was looking for something. I didn’t want him to leave so I pushed the conversation
“I like your costume,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Did someone prank you or tell you this was supposed to be a costume party?” I laughed
He turned his gaze back to me, and something about the way he looked at me made my skin prickle. Not like he was annoyed. Not amused either. Just… curious. Like he was trying to figure me out, piece by piece.
“This is… no costume,” he said, his tone smooth, effortless.
I laughed, a little tipsy now. “You’re either really committed to the aesthetic or you wandered in from a time machine” I said before my brain could stop me.
That made something flicker in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. “Do I?” he asked. “Perhaps I’ve simply not kept up with the way time flows.I’ve been… away for a long time.”
His voice was hypnotic. Slow and melodic. It wasn’t what he said—it was how he said it. The way it slid under your skin and settled there.
Chills broke across my skin.
And yet—I didn’t want to leave.
“I don’t usually come to places like this,” he said.
“Me either,” I admitted. “But it’s my birthday. I figured—why not?”
He stared at me for a second too long. “Happy birthday, then.”
“Thanks…” I trailed off, hoping he’d offer a name.
He didn’t.
“Should I get you a drink?” I asked, feeling bolder than I’ve ever been
He tilted his head slightly and shook it. “I’m thirsty for something else”
“Wanna… get some air?” I asked. The words felt bold, reckless. But he made me feel brave in the weirdest way.
He held out his hand instead.
I stared at it for a moment.
Then I gave him mine.
His fingers were cold, colder than they should’ve been in a house full of sweaty teenagers—but I didn’t let go. I let him lead me, silently, through the crowd.
I felt a slight humming at the back of my pocket, but I ignored it. I was too mesmerized by his presence.
We ended up outside, getting some fresh air. Rays of light from the streetlights shone on us, and he was even more ethereal than I could see in the dark room.
I could see a trail of something red at the side of his lip. I squinted to get a closer look at it, but it was gone as soon as I looked again. I must be really tipsy.
I couldn’t stop staring. I didn’t want to.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was need.
My body hummed like I was standing too close to a speaker. I wanted to touch him. Trace the line of his jaw, feel his face.
I was nineteen. I had never had a real boyfriend. I wasn’t even allowed to text guys.
And now?
Now I wanted this one to kiss me like I belonged to him
I moved closer, enough to touch him if I wanted. I don’t know who leaned in first.
All I knew was I wanted him to kiss me. Right here. Right now.
His hands reached up to my face and I shivered from how cold and smooth they were. His fingers brushed my jaw… and then slid to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, grabbing me from behind my neck
My breath caught and I parted my lips. His face hovered an inch from mine.
But instead of my lips
His eyes dropped.
To my throat.
His gaze sharpened. His pupils dilated slightly. His breathing stilled, like he was listening to something only he could hear.
We were just an inch apart from each other. His thumb grazed the side of my neck slowly and then he sniffed, closing his eyes like I smelled heavenly
He should’ve scared me.
But all I could feel was heat and longing and the humming in my pocket which I had been ignoring
Was he into neck kisses? I didn’t care. I just wanted him to kiss me anywhere. He lifted his face and now he was staring at my lips but then—
“Sky!” I heard Rhea’s voice and I turned to the direction
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you” she called out, walking over to me. Did she have to look for me now?
When I looked back, he was gone.
No footsteps. No sound. No warning.
Just… gone.
The humming in my pocket escalated, becoming impossible to ignore
I reached in and pulled out what was causing the commotion. It was the compass my dad had given me earlier today.
Why was it suddenly working? Its needle was twitching wildly, spinning erratically for a moment before settling.
It was pointing directly, unmistakably, south. Right where he had stood. Right where he had vanished.
Rhea finally walked up to me. “There’s this old guy inside, causing a ruckus and looking for you. He’s claiming to be your father”
What?!
Fuckkkk!!
My life is over. How did he find me here? And what the hell was wrong with my compass?
- Writer
