Page 26

(Going forward its called the carnival hook up since its all season around)

February is a month charged with simmering emotions, a transient mix of love and longing, lust and heartache. I can't help but think about those dualities as I stare into the mirror, adjusting the straps of my red dress. Tight, alluring, and empowered, I feel like a femme fatale seeping into the night. At least, that's the illusion I'm hoping for.

It's been a grueling couple of weeks at the Carnival Hook-Up, my new gig as an actor The atmosphere is electric, a whirlwind of costumes, laughter, and flirtations. Tonight, Valentine's Day, promises to be especially wild—aphrodisiac candies and fruits have everyone riled up, their inhibitions tossed to the wind.

After finishing my shifts, I slip into the nearby club, navigating through the thrumming bass and colorful lights. A few vodka shots numb the remnants of exhaustion; they burn down my throat but morph into a reassuring warmth. I sway to the music, feeling the rhythm pulse through my veins.

As I lean against the bar, I catch the gaze of a charming stranger. His smile seems to pierce through the haze of haze, and before I think twice, I stroll over, drawn by a magnetic pull.

We exchange laughter and flirtatious banter, the buzzing atmosphere wrapping around us like a cocoon. My heart races as his hand brushes my thigh, and I pull his tie playfully. The moment hangs thick with unspoken possibilities, ripe for a kiss... until chaos crumbles the fantasy.

Before I can react to the guy inching closer, a figure draped in black bursts between us. My pulse quickens, shock coursing through my system as the figure grips my waist.

"Hey! Let me go, you dumb fuck!" I holler, struggling against the steel grasp, but it's futile.

"Come near her again, and I'll kill you." The stranger growls, a deep, threatening melody that sends a shiver up my spine.

Through the commotion, the earlier excitement dissipates, replaced by rising fear. I'm yanked away from the bar, shadows swallowing my protests as I'm pulled outside. The world blurs, the drunk haze merging with panic, and I succumb to the abyss of unconsciousness before I can comprehend what's happening.

Hours later, I awaken to find the world spinning with my consciousness. My head splits open like a fragile egg as I take in my surroundings—sumptuous, opulent, and entirely foreign.

"What… where am I?" I mutter, heart racing, an eerie silence swallowing my voice. The dimly lit room holds no signs of familiarity. I stumble through it, searching for a clue, an explanation for my altered reality. The gym room catches my eye, drawing me closer.

And then I see him.

A guy, shirtless, muscles rippling with each lift, and my breath hitches. This could be the guy who dragged me out of the bar, but… a primal part of me cannot deny how attractive he is. His curly hair clings to his brow in sweat, glistening under the soft light. It's impossible to ignore how my body reacts.

"Hey, uh, who are you?" I shout, swallowing hard, fighting the embarrassment flushing my cheeks.

He drops the weights, turning towards me slowly, a sly smile dancing on his lips. "I could ask you the same thing, Scarlett."

My breath catches—how does he know my name? "Who the hell are you?"

"Grayson," he replies smoothly, his voice tantalizing and enigmatic. "I'm the one who brought you here."

A jolt of recognition strikes me. Grayson. The name sits strangely in my memory, like a puzzle piece I can't quite fit. He's not just some random stranger; he's the CEO of Carnival Hook-Up, the tech guy who orchestrates everything from behind the curtain.

"Why did you—" I stammer, my words slipping as that earlier excitement bubbles around my fears, casting doubts into the shadows. "Why did you bring me here?"

He takes a step closer, his gaze piercing yet electric. "I couldn't stand to see you with that man. You deserve better, Scarlett."

The tension thickens like a sensual fog enveloping us, and I'm torn between fear and an inexplicable attraction. "You were stalking me?" I challenge, my bravado faltering.

"Not stalking," he corrects, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Watching. Waiting for the right moment to intervene. You make it hard to stay away, especially when I leave blue roses for you."

"Blue roses?" The realization hits me. Those strange gifts adorned everywhere; their essence lingered like a haunting perfume. "You?"

"There's something about you," he muses, his tone softening. "Something that pulls me in."

Now the world blurs together—the frantic heartbeat of the club, the grasping hands at the bar, the intoxicating loneliness—and I can't tell if I'm such a victim or if I find some twisted thrill in his gaze. Each word he speaks is like a thread entangling me further, binding us in a web woven with risks and desires.

Gradually, the fear subsides, replaced by an intoxicating mix of curiosity and temptation.

"Now, you're here," Grayson says, closing the distance between us. "What do you want to do?"

And suddenly, the night stretches before us, a canvas blank and brimming, echoing promises of danger, desire, and undeniable chemistry.

"I want to know what this all means..." I breathe, my heart thrumming as I challenge the chaotic sparks in the air between us.

As a faint smirk betrays his composure, I realize I might be standing at the precipice of something both terrifying and exhilarating. Secrets and shadows entwine, and with each moment, I unlock a world veiled in question marks and twisted passions, waiting to explode.