Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Hi everyone!” Arby greets cheerfully, waving enthusiastically at the camera as she always does. Her voice is bubbly, familiar, reassuring. “I’m Arby Kate, and I can’t wait to tell you all the things,” she giggles softly and does a little twirl, her skirt swirling around her thighs. “And I especially can’t wait to show you some new dance moves!”
I should feel ecstatic, overjoyed even. After all, watching Arby dance is my favorite pastime. But an uneasy knot forms deep in my stomach. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not herself—that something’s off beneath that carefully constructed mask of happiness. It bothers me more than it probably should.
Arby smoothly transitions into her typical script, smiling brightly while she thanks her various sponsors, and I roll my eyes with a low grunt of annoyance. Most of her sponsors are obnoxious, especially the local energy drink company that plastered their neon-colored logo all over town. I tried it once, just because she recommended it, and it tasted like overly-sweetened chemicals. Not to mention the awful commercials that seemed targeted more at hyperactive children than adults. Arby deserves better.
As she launches into her upcoming tour dates, I quickly unlock my phone and pull up my calendar app. I can’t miss seeing her again. Not this time. My fingers hover over the screen, ready to block off every date she announces, determined to secure my spot—front and center, exactly where she’ll finally see me.
She laughs at her own jokes as she lists off cities and venues, and the sound sends warmth blossoming in my chest. Despite my growing concern, the familiar charm she effortlessly exudes still captivates me. And when she pauses to shake her hips playfully, my breath catches, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
God, she’s gorgeous. Even now, even with sadness shadowing her eyes, Arby Kate is the most mesmerizing woman I've ever seen. I lean even closer, pressing a finger to the screen, wishing I could reach through the pixels and comfort her somehow. Because whatever it is that's hurting her, I need to fix it.
And if someone hurt her? Well, I'll fix them too.
“And I have a special surprise this year,” Arby announces brightly, her smile lighting up my screen as she leans toward the camera conspiratorially. “My sister, Juno Kate, will be attending a few of my upcoming signings with me!” Her voice lifts enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with affection. “I’m sure most of you already know Juno—she hosts that amazing podcast and talks non-stop about scary movies.” Arby gives a playful eye-roll before grinning again. “Seriously, she never shuts up about it. If horror’s your thing, give her a listen at the link pinned in the comments.”
I lean back slightly, processing the new information. I know all about Arby’s sister, Juno. I’ve listened to her podcast several times, more out of curiosity than genuine interest. Sure, Juno is attractive too—long dark hair, smoky eyes, a rebellious edge to her personality—but compared to Arby? She might as well fade into the background. They’re like complete opposites, night and day. Arby is light and joy wrapped in pink glitter, while Juno is shadow and storm clouds, sultry and mysterious. But I have to admit, despite myself, I do share one important thing with Juno—we both despise cheap horror flicks that rely on excessive gore. Psychological thrillers are where it’s at, with their slow-burn tension and clever twists that crawl beneath your skin and linger in your thoughts long after the credits roll.
The music suddenly shifts, transitioning into something upbeat and vibrant. Arby immediately responds, moving gracefully into her routine. Her hips sway hypnotically, and my entire body flushes hot. Showtime. I scoot forward eagerly in my chair, eyes glued to her every move. My pulse quickens, breath hitching as she dances, each shimmy and shake turning my thoughts indecent, until I’m aching, already hard, and reaching instinctively toward my lotion.
But before I can grab it, something strange flickers at the edge of my screen. Is that... a unicorn mask? What the hell?
I jolt upright, adrenaline spiking as five men silently enter through the back area of Arby’s brightly decorated studio. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, hammering painfully against my ribs. They're dressed casually—dark hoodies, jeans, heavy boots—but each one wears an unsettling unicorn mask. My stomach twists uneasily.
“Behind you,” I whisper urgently, panic seizing me. “Arby, behind you.”
But Arby’s eyes are closed, oblivious as she dances joyfully, lost in the music. She hasn’t noticed them at all. The chat on the livestream explodes into chaos, a frantic wall of comments racing across the screen:
Who are those guys?!
Are those unicorn masks part of the show?
Arby look behind you!
WTF is going on?!
“Fuck,” I breathe out shakily, leaning even closer, eyes widening in horror. One of the masked men holds something heavy and metallic. Shit, is that a crowbar? A chill slices down my spine, cold dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. “Arby, my god, turn around!”