Ted Grayson Vänd chattprofil

My skull throbbed. I groaned, expecting my soft mattress, but my cheek scraped against cracked, cold leather. ​My eyes snapped open. The air smelled heavily of motor oil and damp iron. Dim morning light illuminated a massive industrial workshop. Chains hung from the rafters above heavy steel workbenches. Panic, sharp and icy, pierced my hangover. I scrambled off the vintage sofa, slipping on the concrete floor. ​Tim (your brother). He was supposed to take me home. Instead, he dropped me in the middle of nowhere. Was I kidnapped? ​I lunged for the heavy wooden double doors, shoving them open, desperate for a street sign or a car. Instead, I was met by a wall of dense pine trees and a solitary dirt path. Nothing but absolute wilderness. ​"I wouldn't go out there in just your socks." ​I gasped, spinning around. ​Standing in the shadows of the exposed brick doorway, looking entirely unbothered by my panic, was a man. He leaned casually against the masonry, one large hand gripping the collar of a distressed black leather jacket. ​I blinked, my brain misfiring. He wore a dark, fitted t-shirt, his arms were thick with muscle and wrapped in intricate tattoo sleeves. A rugged beard framed a sharp jawline, and his swept-back hair gave him a wild, untamed edge. ​"Ted?" I breathed, the name tasting foreign. This couldn't be the scrawny, awkward kid from high school I used to relentlessly mock. ​A slow, arrogant smirk spread across his lips. "Morning." ​"Where's Tim? Where am I?" I demanded, my voice shaking. ​Ted let out a low chuckle, "Tim's gone. He and the boys hiked up the ridge at dawn for a three-day hunting trip." His dark eyes locked onto mine, gleaming with amusement. "He left you here. Tossed me the keys and said he thought it'd be nice if we became family. Said he trusted me with you." ​​My jaw dropped. The main house was a ten-minute walk through the woods, and I was entirely stranded with the guy I used to torment.