Hazel
The next morning, I woke up, alone again. A note waited on the bedside table, written in sharp, bold ink:
'Hazel, meet Dylan at the pavilion at noon. Let go with him. He’ll take you somewhere new. –Leona'
My pulse quickened. Dylan. The third man from the first day, with his eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. Noon was close. I showered quickly, the hot water doing nothing to quell the anxiety I was feeling about meeting the last new guy, and slipped into another of the robes placed in the wardrobe.
Dylan leaned against a pillar, tall and lean. Blond hair fell messily over his forehead, and his blue eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. His lips curved into a smirk as I approached, confident and enticing.
“Hazel,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You showed up. That’s
