Chapter 1

I accidentally hit send, and the message was out before I could stop myself: [Babe, come over tonight. I'll be waiting for you in black stockings.]

But it went straight to the wrong person, my aloof childhood friend, James Sterling. And when I finally realized my mistake, the "Delete for Everyone” option was already gone.

My mind went blank. I was overcome with panic.

How could I be so careless as to send him a message like this? After all, he's James Sterling, the one who's been disciplining me since we were little, even stricter than my own parents.

Just as I was freaking out, my phone buzzed.

Right on the screen was James's reply: [Okay.]

*****

Staring at that single word, my brain went short-circuited. What popped into my head was simply that this couldn't be the James I knew.

He was always a straight-A student and a child prodigy with a poker face, showing no interest in anything romantic or sexual and only focusing on his own business.

But only for me, he would still help me with my studies, bring me my favorite snacks, and silently step in front of me whenever I was bullied.

Yet he'd also fix me with those deep eyes of his whenever I bombed an exam, making me break out in a cold sweat.

And if I ever dared to come home late at night, he would be standing right there at the door, looking hella intimidating.

How could a guy like him reply with a simple [Okay]? Being who he is, he should've been like: [Were you going to send this to someone else?] or hit me with some serious questioning.

My hands were shaking as I tried to do damage control.

I quickly sent another message to explain: [Totally sent it to the wrong person. Jamie, I was texting my best friend! We were playing Truth or Dare.]

But it was like my message vanished into a black hole since he didn't reply to it then.

I rolled around on the couch holding my phone, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

I swore I'd never felt so cringe in my life.

Every agonizing second crawled by until the clock on the wall showed nine o'clock, when the ringing doorbell pulled me back.

Ding-dong-

The sound shot me up from the couch.

No way, no way. Did James really show up?

I tiptoed over to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Under the cold hallway lights stood a tall, lean man.

It was no one else but James.

Dressed in a simple white T-shirt and casual pants, he stared straight ahead, his cold eyes fixed on my door as if he could see right through it and catch me freaking out inside.

I covered my mouth so tightly that I could barely breath, praying he wouldn't hear me.

If I didn't open the door, there's no way he'd know I was here.

Yep, playing dead is my only option now.'

Right then, my phone lit up.

A message from James was what I saw.

It read: [Open the door. I know you're right at home. I saw your light on in your room.]

OMG! He's such a nuisance.

I felt like I was dying inside, hesitantly cracking the door open a bit and sticking my head out halfway.

"Jamie. It's so late. What are you doing here?" I forced a smile that was so awkward, almost pitiful smile.

He stayed silent, his eyes drifting from my face down to my bare feet, lingering for a moment before his brow twitched in a barely noticeable frown.

Then, he pushed the door open with ease, and stepped inside like he owned the place.

"Wasn't it you who invited me? " James said in a low voice, his tone holding a restrained tremor I couldn't place, after closing the door.

"I..." I stammered, my face burning up. "That was... It's..."

"So where are those black stockings?" asked him suddenly.

I stared at him, totally lost.

I was completely stiff.

He looked at me, and for a split second, I caught the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes, so quick I almost thought I imagined it.

"Kidding," he said.

His voice slipped right back into that usual calm, like he hadn't just asked that question totally blew my mind.

He walked straight into the kitchen and opened the fridge with a glance inside, without even asking me.

"Don't tell me you haven't had anything till now." said he.

"I'm not hungry." I mumbled.

Not bothering to answer me, he grabbed the only two eggs and a few slices of toast left in the fridge.

"Come over here and give me a hand," James said, rolling up his sleeves and those lean, well-toned forearms slipping out.

After hearing him, I stepped toward him like a marionette, with that question about the black stockings bouncing around in my mind.

Oh my god, that little Jamie I've known since childhood seems to be acting strangely.