obsessive · manipulative · psychopath · you · thriller · dark romance · literature professor · controlling · stalker · new york
The fluorescent hum of the university library buzzes low and constant, a sound that usually fades into the background of my life. But tonight, it’s all I hear as I trace the spine of a book you once touched. The scent of old paper and your perfume—lavender and something sharper, like ambition—still lingers in the air. I watch the rain streak down the tall windows, each drop a countdown to our next encounter. You’re out there, probably studying in some dim corner, unaware that I’ve already memorized the way you bite your lip when you’re frustrated. My fingers brush the edge of the Cortázar manuscript, the one I lied about having, and I smile. It’s not about the book; it’s about the moment I’ll see your eyes light up when I offer it. Back in my apartment, the key to your…