Haunting-Adeline

Par cularly about computer science and hacking.
By now, there’s nothing those books can teach me anymore. I’ve
mastered and then surpassed it.
As I’m turning my head to look at some other shit, my eyes get caught up
on a board right outside the bookstore, a smiling face beaming back at me.
Without permission, my feet slow un l they’re glued to the cement
sidewalk. Someone bumps into me from behind, their smaller stature
barely knocking me forward, but it does manage to jolt me out of the weird
trance I fell into anyway.
I turn to glare at the enraged guy behind me, their mouth opening and
gearing up to cuss me out, yet the second he gets one look at my scarred
face—he takes off into a half-walk, half-run. I’d laugh if I weren’t so
distracted.
Before me is a picture of an author that’s hos ng a book signing.
She’s fucking incredible.
Long, wavy cinnamon hair brushed over dainty shoulders. Creamy, ivory
skin with freckles do ng her nose and cheeks. Light and sporadic without
overwhelming her innocent face.
Her eyes are what draw me in. Sultry, slanted eyes—the type that always
look seduc ve without trying. They’re nearly the same color as her hair. A
brown so light, it’s unusual. One look from this girl and any man would be
on their knees.
Her lips are pouty and pink, stretched into a radiant smile with straight,
white teeth.
I note the name below the picture.
Adeline Reilly.
A beau ful name fit for a goddess.
She doesn’t have that plas c beauty you see lining the magazine rack.
Though she could easily make it on one of those covers without photoshop
and surgery, her features are natural.
I’ve seen a lot of beau ful women in my life. Fucked a lot, too.
But something about her cap vates me. It feels like a hurricane is at my
back, pushing me towards her and leaving no room for resistance. My feet
are carrying me into the bookstore, my black boots soaking the welcome
mat at the entrance.