11. Addison

11

Addison

I barely slept a wink last night. My mind kept drifting back to that unsettling phone call, the latest in a string of them that had been coming more frequently lately. It was starting to get under my skin more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. I knew I should tell Eren, but every time I tried, the words stuck in my throat. After all, it was not like anything had actually happened... yet.

My phone buzzed, jolting me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Eren, asking to meet at River Styx before my Calculus class.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the screen, before typing out a quick

Sure, see you there

and hitting send.

With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and started getting ready for class. As I brushed my teeth, my reflection in the mirror seemed to mock me — the dark circles under my eyes a testament to my restless night. I splashed some cold water on my face, hoping it would help me feel more awake.

As I pulled on my tights and my plaid skirt, my mind kept circling back to the phone calls. Who could be calling me? And why?

A shiver ran down my spine as I considered the possibilities. I shook my head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. I couldn't let this get to me. I had to stay focused on my classes, on Eren, on anything but the nagging fear that something wasn't right.

I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.

I decided to bake some muffins to help take my mind off the unsettling phone calls before I had to leave. Baking always seemed to calm my nerves, and I had some time before I needed to meet Eren at River Styx.

I pulled out my favorite recipe, a simple blueberry muffin that my grandmother had taught me years ago. As I gathered the ingredients — flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and a pint of fresh blueberries — I could almost hear her voice guiding me through the steps.

I mixed the dry ingredients first, the flour and sugar blending together in a soft cloud. Then, in a separate bowl, I whisked the eggs and milk until they were frothy and light. I poured the wet ingredients into the dry, stirring gently until just combined. The batter was thick and lumpy, just as it should be.

Finally, I folded in the blueberries, watching as they disappeared into the pale batter, leaving streaks of deep purple in their wake. The smell of the fresh berries filled my kitchen, sweet and tangy.

I spooned the batter into a muffin tin, each cup filled to the brim. As I slid the tin into the preheated oven, I felt a sense of accomplishment wash over me. No matter what else was going on in my life, I could always count on baking to ground me, to give me a sense of control.

As the muffins baked, I tidied up the kitchen, washing the bowls and wiping down the counters. The repetitive motions were soothing, and I found my mind wandering to more pleasant things — the upcoming dance, my classes, anything but the phone calls.

The timer on the oven beeped, signaling that the muffins were done. As I reached for the oven mitts, my phone vibrated on the counter. I glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Eren, but instead, it was a text from an unknown number.

My brow furrowed as I opened the message. The words that greeted me sent a chill down my spine:

I wonder if those muffins will taste as sweet as you do.

I nearly dropped my phone, my hands trembling. My heart pounded against my chest, the thudding so loud I could hear it in my ears. It couldn't possibly be the same person who had been calling me, could it?

I stared at the message, my mind racing. How did they know I was baking muffins? Were they watching me right now?

I glanced around my kitchen, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. The once comforting space now felt threatening, as if the very walls were hiding secrets.

Actually, I doubt it. You taste decadent.

I furrowed my brows. With shaking fingers, I typed out a response:

Who are you?

I hit send, my breath caught in my throat as I waited for a reply. Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

My phone vibrated again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked down at the screen, my heart in my throat.

You'll find out soon enough, sweet Addison.

I felt sick. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

I set my phone down, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

I needed to tell someone. I couldn't keep this to myself anymore. But who could I trust? Eren? My friends? The police?

I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I couldn't ignore this anymore. I had to face it head-on, no matter how scared I was.

I slid down until I was on the floor of the kitchen, trying to control my breathing. This had to be a prank, a cruel prank. I couldn't overreact. I had to keep my senses.

On shaky legs, I forced myself to stand. I slipped on my oven mitts and pulled out the muffins. The aroma of freshly baked blueberries filled the kitchen, but it did little to calm my nerves. I set the muffin tin on the counter; the heat radiating through the mitts.

I stared at the muffins, their golden tops glistening in the light. They looked perfect, just like they always did. But somehow, they felt tainted now, as if the unknown texter had reached through the screen and poisoned them with their words.

I pulled off the mitts and tossed them aside, my hands still trembling. I leaned against the counter, trying to steady myself. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

Was it someone I knew? Someone from school, or from the dance studio? Or was it a complete stranger, someone who had somehow gotten hold of my number and decided to torment me for their own twisted amusement?

I didn't know. And that was the worst part. The uncertainty, the not knowing who was behind this or what they wanted from me.

I glanced at my phone, still lying on the counter where I had left it. Part of me wanted to pick it up, to demand answers from whoever was on the other end. But another part of me, the part that was still shaking with fear, wanted to throw it across the room and never look at it again.

I set the muffins on a cooling rack, the heat from the muffins warming my face as I leaned over to inhale their sweet scent.

For a moment, everything else faded away — the worry, the fear, the uncertainty. There was only the smell of freshly baked muffins and the satisfaction of a job well done.

I double-checked that the oven was turned off and washed all the dishes before I left. I made sure my door was locked.

As I stepped outside, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It was an eerie sensation, like cold fingers trailing down my spine. I clenched my teeth together as I walked up to my car and got in, trying to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of my neck.

The sky was overcast, a dull grey that seemed to leach the color from everything around me. The weather report had said it was supposed to snow pretty badly this weekend, and I could feel the chill in the air even through my coat.

I turned the key in the ignition, and my old car sputtered to life. I cranked up the heat, rubbing my hands together as I waited for the windshield to defrost. The cold seemed to seep into my bones, and I couldn't stop shivering.

As I sat there, the feeling of being watched intensified. It was like a physical presence, a weight pressing down on me from all sides. I glanced around, trying to spot anyone who might be lurking nearby, but the street was empty.

My eyes began to water, and I blinked rapidly to clear them. I didn't know if it was from the cold or from the fear that was slowly creeping through my veins, but I couldn't seem to make it stop.

I urged my car to hurry up, to go faster, but it was an old car and it seemed to take an eternity for the windshield to clear. Every second felt like an hour, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Finally, the windshield was clear enough to see through. I put the car in gear and pulled out of my parking spot, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

As I drove, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following me. I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, expecting to see a dark figure looming behind me, but the road was empty.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, on getting to campus to meet Eren, but my mind kept wandering back to the text messages and the phone calls. Who was doing this to me, and why? What did they want from me?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I had to stay calm, had to keep my wits about me. I couldn't let whoever was behind this get the best of me.

But as I drove through the grey, lifeless streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. And I didn't know if I was ready to face it.

I made my way to the River Styx. The exterior was unassuming, with large windows that allowed a glimpse into the warm, inviting space within. I pushed open the heavy wooden door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping me, providing a momentary respite from the chill outside.

Inside, the cafe was a bustle of activity. Students huddled around small, round tables, their laptops open and textbooks scattered before them. Others lounged on the plush, worn couches, chatting animatedly with friends or lost in their own thoughts. The walls were adorned with an eclectic mix of local artwork and vintage posters, adding to the bohemian vibe of the space.

Despite the welcoming atmosphere, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. As I joined the line to order a hot chocolate, I scanned the cafe, my eyes darting from one face to another, searching for any sign of recognition or malice. But everyone seemed engrossed in their own conversations and work, oblivious to my presence.

I reached the counter, and the barista greeted me with a friendly smile. "What can I get for you today?" she asked, her voice bright and cheerful.

"A large hot chocolate, please," I replied, trying to match her upbeat tone despite the unease that still lingered in the pit of my stomach. "Extra whip cream."

While she rang up my order, I glanced around once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eren. But he was nowhere to be seen. I stepped aside to wait for my drink, my fingers tapping nervously against my thigh.

"Excuse me?" a voice called out, cutting through the chatter of the cafe.

I blinked, startled out of my thoughts. The barista waved me over, my hot chocolate in hand. I thanked her and took the warm cup, wrapping my hands around it like a lifeline.

I turned to find a seat; I catching my reflection in the window. My face was pale, my eyes wide and anxious. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

You've got to keep it together, Riley , I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible over the hum of conversation around me.

I stood in the middle of the cafe, my mind still reeling from the unsettling messages I had received. The hot chocolate in my hand provided a small comfort, the warmth seeping through the cup and into my fingers. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

Without warning, a hand touched my shoulder. I jumped, a yelp escaping my lips as the hot chocolate slipped from my grasp. It fell to the floor with a splash, the dark liquid spreading across the tiles in a steaming puddle.

I spun around, my heart in my throat, only to find Michael standing there. His blue eyes were filled with concern as he looked at me, his brow furrowed.

"Addison, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I glanced around, suddenly aware of the eyes of the other students on me. A couple of them had turned in their chairs to stare at me and the mess I had made.

"Shit," I murmured, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I started to move towards the counter, intent on grabbing some napkins to clean up the spill.

But before I could take a step, Michael's hand closed around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I looked up at him, surprised by the contact.

"I got it," he said, his voice firm but reassuring. "You stay here."

I watched as he strode over to the counter, grabbing a handful of napkins from the dispenser. He returned to the puddle of hot chocolate and knelt down, mopping up the liquid with quick, efficient movements.

I watched as Michael finished cleaning up the spilled hot chocolate, gathering the soaked napkins and tossing them in the nearby trash can. He returned to where I stood, his eyes searching my face.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, just..." I let my voice trail off, shaking my head slightly. "It's been a weird morning."

"Hmm," he hummed, his gaze never leaving mine. "Maybe a muffin will make you feel better."

I jerked back, my eyes narrowing as a chill ran down my spine. "What did you say?"

The words echoed in my mind, too similar to the unsettling message I had received earlier. How could he have known I made muffins this morning? Could it be Michael who was watching me, texting me? I knew he had a reputation for being a nice guy, but I also sensed there was more to him than he let on.

Michael's brow furrowed, and he gestured towards the pastry display at the counter. "I just meant buying you a muffin with another hot chocolate," he explained slowly, his tone cautious.

"Oh," I breathed, feeling a flush of embarrassment warm my cheeks. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he assured me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Extra whip cream, right?"

I started to protest. "You don't have to?—"

"I want to," he interrupted gently, his eyes warm and sincere.

"Thanks," I murmured, a small smile of gratitude forming on my face.

We stepped into line together, and for the first time that morning, I didn't feel the unsettling sensation of being watched. I released a slow breath, hoping the respite would last, at least for a little while.