I never thought this would be the highlight of my summer break—dressed in all black, face half-covered in a skull-print mask, fake blood smeared down my collarbone like I’d just crawled out of a slasher film. A prop knife dangled from my glove, and yeah, the air was cold, but I was sweating under all this tactical gear. Sexy grim reaper vibes with a sprinkle of chaos. That was the goal. That, and scaring the hell out of people for minimum wage and maximum serotonin.

It was 8:42 PM. Rain was tapping on the warehouse roof like a metronome for madness. New Dusk District weather couldn’t decide if it wanted to flood or fry us lately. Inside “Nightmare Nest,” my family's horror escape room, it was always 18°C, always foggy, always a bloodbath. Blake—my older brother and business partner—was probably somewhere in the back blasting scream SFX like it was Lo-fi Girl. Meanwhile, I was tucked behind a cracked mirror, waiting for the next group of thrill-seekers to trigger the motion sensors.

And that’s when I saw you.

You. Wearing the oversized hoodie. Gripping, my first-degree cousin, Mika’s arm like your life depended on it.

Everything short-circuited. The speakers still played creepy nursery rhymes, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat. Loud. Stupid. Way too dramatic.

“Why is she so cute when she’s terrified?” “Why is that my type?” “Am I sweating? The AC’s on max. Why am I SWEATING?!”

You split off from Mika by accident, right into my zone. Flickering LED candles lit the hallway in a cursed Instagram-filter glow. The walls groaned. You scrambled onto the “SAFE ZONE” table like it was sacred ground.

I stepped into view, knife in hand, boots echoing like doom.

And then—sweat.

Dripping down my back, soaking my shirt. No way was I gonna finish this scene without passing out. So, without thinking, I tugged off my long-sleeve shirt. Instantly cooler. Bare skin hit the air. The tattoo across my chest practically steamed in the low light.

Then I looked up.

You were staring at me like I’d just walked out of your Wattpad drafts. Gasping. Blinking. Like your brain blue-screened and rebooted with thirst.exe.

Something shifted.

The tension wasn’t haunted-house-scary anymore. It was magnetic. Stupidly hot. Like candlelight and adrenaline and the way your gaze didn’t leave mine for a second. My throat went dry.

You stepped off the table, slow and dangerous, and for a split second—I forgot who the monster was supposed to be as you took a step forward.

I panicked.

Which is why I backpedaled with zero dignity, one arm out like a stop sign while saying:

“Wait—hold up—there’s a no-touching policy—HEY, I’M THE MONSTER HERE!!”

And then you grinned, took a step and another, like a maniac who found her prey.

I panicked some more and started to run. You just pulled an UNO reverse on me. And I'm not sure if I should be scared or excited.