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‘That’s asking you out.’

I breathe a small laugh. ‘I don’t know. I’m not really looking right now.’

The truth is, there’s only ever been one boy who’s held my attention.

Tess shrugs. ‘He always liked you.’

Before I can respond, the barista calls our names. We take the drinks back to the table, and as Elodie launches into a dramatic retelling of a terrible date she once went on, I pull my phone from my bag to check the time.

AshOfNight has posted a story.

Without hesitation, I click on the notification. The story loads, the unmistakable backdrop of the amusement park appearing on my screen. The camera pans to reveal a masked figure leaning casually against a railing. He is looking away from the camera. I scan over the text written over the video.

You know that’s my favourite colour on you …

For a moment, I can’t breathe. The cafe noise fades into the background. My fingers tighten around the phone as the blood drains from my face. That wasn’t my imagination. He was there, between the curtains, watching me in the fitting room, his possessive gaze gripping me like something he owns.

‘Bryn?’ Tess’s voice pulls me back. I look up slowly. ‘You okay?’

My heart is beating fast, and I force myself to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat.

‘Yeah,’ I force out, still processing the video, and the fact that he was there.

He followed me?

Glancing down at my phone one more time, I read his words once more. A shiver runs through me, part adrenaline, part fear. I take a deep breath and shove my phone into my bag, trying to act normal as Tess says something about her drink not tasting right. They never give her the right milk, apparently. My hands are still shaking slightly as I take a sip of my own.

I know, with a sinking certainty, that I’ll have to go back. I need to see him again.

I tug at the zipper of my leather jacket one last time and step back, studying myself in the mirror. Fright Night is on again tonight, and I’ve made the decision to go back. Excitement zings through me, but jittery nerves bubble under the surface too.

I run my hands down the front of my outfit, something fun and a little daring, perfect for blending into the chaos of the night without looking like I’m trying too hard. It should capture his attention though, since it’s tight-fitting and shows a generous amount of cleavage. I spin, checking the fit, imagining the scares and surprises waiting for me. Part of me is giddy at the thought of the haunted mazes and actors leaping out from the shadows, but there is only one actor in particular who I want to come find me. I sling my bag over my shoulder and give myself one last look in the mirror, happy with my appearance.

I can hear the theme park sounds well before I’m at the entry gate. Screams, laughter, the thump of music from the haunted mazes, they all wrap around me, causing an excited tingling sensation to shoot through me. I probably shouldn’t have come here alone, but I was too embarrassed to admit that I wanted another encounter with the masked man. There’s something about him that is getting under my skin.

Clutching my bag tighter, I step through the gate into the Haunted Midway. The lights are flickering, and shadows twist along the walls and scary props. Actors leap from corners, growling and snarling, their faces painted in grotesque masks. I recoil more than once, letting out little squeals that make me laugh at myself. I feel more on edge than the first time I was here.

I subconsciously begin scanning the crowd, wondering if I’ll see anyone I know, but it’s a sea of strangers, all lost in the chaos. Then I see him. A prickle of awareness ripples through me as his eyes bore into mine. He’s behind the mask, of course, but there’s something in the way he moves – calculated, confident, and dangerous in the most magnetic way – that suggests he recognises me and has been waiting for my return.

Or this is nothing but a figment of my imagination and I’ve gone completely nuts.

I try to shake it off and tell myself it’s just part of the experience. It’s probably normal for them to remember people and latch onto them to scare them even more. Laughing nervously, I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s Fright Night, I tell myself. It’s supposed to be scary. And yet my pulse races in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

He slides on his knees toward me before he casually returns to his feet, unhurriedly strolling my way. My stomach does a little flip, and I try to laugh it off. It’s just part of the show, I tell myself. Though the mask hides most of his face, except his mouth and jaw, it’s his voice that stops me cold, because now that I’m convinced that he’s Ash, I realise he sounds just like him. Or I’m hearing things.

‘Back again?’ he murmurs, lips curving into a sexy smirk that makes a fluttering sensation appear in a place it most certainly shouldn’t.

I stumble back a little, caught off guard, my heart hammering. I search the mask, trying to place him, trying to find something familiar in the stranger behind it. It has to be Ash, if he’s singled me out like this. His username, AshOfNight, can’t be a coincidence.

He steps closer, and I have to fight the urge to step back.

‘You always come running into the chaos,’ he says, and there’s a teasing edge to his words. ‘Or maybe you’re just drawn to me.’

I blink, unsure how to respond. My pulse is racing, and I can’t tell if it’s from the thrill of being caught staring at him, or if it’s something deeper – something that stirs memories I didn’t know were there.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I whisper.

‘Oh, come on,’ he murmurs, voice deep and sultry. ‘You came back to see me.’