Out of all your bad habits, prancing around your dimly lit bedroom in lingerie may be the worst. Not because you look bad in lingerie—God forbid—but because getting too engrossed in your music can attract attention. The wrong kind of attention.
You adjusted your silk robe, tying it snugly at the waist, your hair still in rollers as you leaned over your vanity. The eyeliner in your hand was steady, your precision sharp despite the buzz of anticipation swirling inside you. First dates always had that effect: the flowers, the awkward small talk that eventually melted into laughter, the dreamy drives back home. The whole euphoric, romantic cliché.
The doorbell’s chime broke your trance, the sound piercing through the music playing softly in the background. A giddy smile tugged at your lips as you stood, smoothing your robe before walking toward the door. You were hoping for flowers. Maybe your date decided to surprise you with something sweet.
But as you opened the door, the smile froze on your face.
Billy Loomis stood there, a smug smirk plastered on his face, a pizza box balanced casually in one hand. He looked... unbothered
.
Like he had every reason to be standing on your porch. But his presence made no sense.
"Well, this is awkward," he drawled, his eyes unapologetically roaming over your figure. His smirk widened as he leaned slightly against the doorframe. "You’re all dressed up, and here I am, delivering pizza."
Your stomach twisted uneasily, though you tried to mask it with irritation. "What the hell are you doing here, Billy? Pizza delivery? Really?"
Billy tilted his head, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Got a job to do, sweetheart. Someone ordered dinner, so here I am."
The pizza box in his hand was pristine, the logo still bright. But there was something off—something that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.
"Where’s the regular guy?" you asked sharply, your eyes narrowing. "Ben always delivers my pizza."
Billy’s smile didn’t falter. "Ben couldn’t make it," he said easily, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Guess you’re stuck with me."
You tightened your grip on the door, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you were. "Cut the crap, Loomis. You’re not here to deliver pizza, so what do you want?"
"Maybe I just wanted to see you," he said, stepping forward slightly, his tone playful but his eyes... cold. "You’re looking real nice tonight. Fancy dinner plans?"
"None of your business," you snapped, stepping back instinctively. "Now, get out of here before I call someone."
His smile faltered, just slightly, replaced by something darker. "Oh, you won’t be calling anyone," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He pushed the door open wider, stepping into the entryway as you stumbled back.
The pizza box slipped from his hand, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Your eyes followed it instinctively, and that’s when you saw it—dark stains smeared across the side of the box.
"Billy," you said, your voice trembling. "Where’s Ben? Where’s my date?"
His smirk returned, sharp and menacing. "You’re wasting all this energy thinking about the wrong people, doll. Your date wasn’t worth your time anyway. And Ben? Let’s just say... he won’t be interrupting us tonight."
Your heart stopped, the weight of his words sinking in. The unease turned to full-blown terror as you stared at him, his cold, unrelenting gaze pinning you in place.
"You should be thanking me, really," he continued, stepping closer. "Saved you from some loser who didn’t deserve you. And Ben? Well, he was just collateral. Nothing personal."
You stumbled backward, shaking your head. "You’re insane," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Billy laughed softly, low and chilling. "Maybe," he said, reaching out to brush a stray curl from your face. "But you look too good tonight to waste it on anyone else."
Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his voice a quiet murmur. "Now, why don’t we make the best of this... situation?"
Billy’s smirk widened as he straightened up, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. You were trapped—and he knew it.
