10. Emily
“ W hoa, you’re here early! Thought I was gonna be the only one here.”
I looked up from the note I was staring at, my fingers resting just below the numbers written shakily in dark ink, to see one of my classmates from my organic chemistry and one of my elective classes. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what their name was. Something earthy? Moss? Rock? Lichen? No, none of that was right, but my brain was so fried from everything that I just couldn’t access that information.
“Just wanted to get ahead on starting my week,” I said. “You know how it is. Things are only going to get more competitive from here.”
“Ain’t that the truth. But still, I admire the work ethic. Rock on. I’ve got a bunch of lab write-ups to do myself. Here’s to productivity.”
“Here, here,” I agreed, though my heart wasn’t in it. Thankfully, my classmate didn't seem to notice the fakeness of my smile or the strain in my words.
Because, wow, I’d had a hell of a weekend.
Thinking back on it, it all seemed so impossible. A lot of things were still jumbled in my mind. I shouldn’t have even been in school, but the ER gave me a clean bill of health the night before, and I figured it was better than rotting in bed at my parents’ house, especially considering the flustered flurry of thoughts racing through my head.
I remembered coming to inside the ambulance, confused and very sore, but all the pain was gone. That certainly was a shock to me, as the last thing I coherently remembered was the pure and utter agony coursing through every cell of my body. My parents weren’t there with me, but one of the paramedics told me they were already on their way to the hospital—and that I was lucky to be alive.
Once I was at the ER, it was hard not to feel like a lab rat between the IV in me, other monitors, and then all the tests: ECG, CAT scan, pregnancy test, blood test, ultrasound. As the hours ticked by, I was more than grateful for my father’s insurance.
What a shit way to spend my birthday. Who spontaneously develops a lethal silver allergy in their twenties?
But in a way, I was lucky. I’d assumed that I would’ve been kept overnight, and one of the doctors told me that was likely. But after everything was said and done, I had such a clean bill of health that they released me to my parents around 8 PM with nothing except a sleep aid. The adrenaline from EpiPens could cause some issues with sleep for a little while, apparently. Nothing too serious, but enough that giving me a little help was a blessing.
I closed my eyes and ran through the impossibility of it all, recalling every single moment. I remembered getting my presents. I remembered being overwhelmed by the affection I had for my family, and suffocated by the attention of my boyfriend. Then I remembered the worst pain I’d ever experienced in my life radiating through every part of me with a vengeance, like it personally wanted to ruin my day.
I winced, retreating from the memories on instinct, but then there was a flash of an image. No, a face. The guy who’d been following me for several days.
Oh, right, he’d been there, hadn’t he? I saw him right before I collapsed, intent on charging towards him. Was he the mystery doctor my parents mentioned in passing? The one who told them I was having an allergic reaction and possibly saved my life by urging them to get that EpiPen?
No, that was just too far-fetched. But if it wasn’t him….
“What the hell was he doing there?” I blurted out loud.
“Huh?” Moss, or Rock, or whatever their name was asked. “Sorry, I was concentrating.”
“Nothing,” I said quickly as I felt my cheeks color. “Just talking to myself.”
“Ha, I feel that. Sometimes it’s the best conversation I have all day. I’m gonna turn my music on, though, and my headphones block almost all sound, so just tap me on the shoulder if you need anything.”
“Roger!”
With that, my privacy returned, and I looked back at the note I was still fiddling with. In reality, I had far too much work to be sitting there, just staring at a tiny scrap of paper. I had samples that needed to go into the synthesizer. Lab write-ups that needed to be done. Reading. Homework. Yet, I wasn’t doing any of that. I was staring at the ten mysterious digits on my sticky note and the three words that came along with them.
I hadn’t noticed them until I was home and about to get into bed. I changed into my pajamas, and a quick glance in the mirror revealed Sharpie written on my arm and shoulder, too high for anyone to have seen without taking my shirt off. Although the letters had faded to gray with my morning shower, they were burned into my mind just as clearly as the sticky note I’d jotted them down on.
I can help.
“Help me with what?” I snapped, irritation bubbling over inside.
The note had to be from the man who was following me—it had to. There was no other explanation. But that in and of itself opened up so many other horrifying questions.
How did he know where I lived? How did he even know I would be there? How long had he been following me? I had no doubt in my mind that he was a stalker. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Perhaps even more perturbing than anything else: how did he know about my fever? All the other information was scary, but it was easy to find it out. But the only people who knew that I’d been under the weather were my friends and teachers. Plus, most of them thought I was over it. I hadn’t told a single soul how my fever kept flaring, and how my body was acting in strange ways I didn’t understand.
Yet, somehow a total stranger knew?
Impossible. Preposterous. Yet... I had no other logical explanation, and when logic failed, fringe theories and the impossible were all that was left.
As terrified as I was of the questions racing through my head, there was something else going on within. Little flashes of the man kneeling beside me, saying calming words and soothing me, the fact that he’d felt truly present, and his scent was so comforting. Hell, he had saved my life.
What the fuck was up with that?
I felt like I’d been plunged into a complicated, nonsensical situation through no fault of my own. Nothing was adding up, and my usual ways of problem-solving weren’t working.
That was why I went to the lab as soon as I’d woken up and realized that sleep was no longer a possibility. The lab was always a safe place. There was a method and a logic to everything. One went in with a hypothesis and used the scientific method to either prove or disprove that theory. Results were clear and concise, or else the whole experiment was done again until they were. And most importantly, the results had to be replicable. There was nothing methodical about the strange draw I felt to a mysterious man who’d only acted unhinged around me.
“Come on, Emily, get your shit together!” I hissed at myself before furtively shooting a glance at my fellow student. But just like they’d said, they were listening to music and didn’t seem to hear me. That was a relief. I didn’t need everyone around me to know what a mess I was.
Because even though I was terrified of the man, even though my rational side said this was not something to take lightly and I needed to be incredibly proactive, there was another part of me that told me such an incredibly good-looking guy couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like me. That somehow, this was all a huge misunderstanding. He wanted to get with one of my friends and just saw me as an easy entry point into the group. I was lucky enough to get Gavin remotely interested in me, and lightning didn’t strike the same way twice.
What bullshit. It was mean, and I knew it wasn’t true. Whether fat, mid-sized, or slender, I deserved love. I was an interesting, intelligent young woman who had a lot to offer. But that mean, intense voice didn’t care. It wanted to hurt me, and it was incredibly good at doing so.
I hated that I could feel myself slipping into the same insecurities I’d struggled so much with when I was younger. I’d worked so hard to pull myself out of the awful place I had spiraled into, and I didn’t want to backslide.
“Progress isn’t linear,” I chanted to myself, repeating the mantra my therapist told me many times. “Progress isn’t linear.”
At first, the phrase had confused me. Hadn’t I been taught since I was a child that it was always one step in front of the other as far as being better today than I was yesterday? The way she explained it was that everyone in recovery, physical or emotional, had days that were better and days that were worse. Those worst days could take one back several steps, but they didn’t actually erase anything; they were just part of the journey. I just needed to calm my breathing down and use my coping mechanisms to get my head right.
Because why in the hell was I considering calling the number?!
I would have to be an utter moron to call the man who’d been stalking me, terrorizing me, and have him “help” me. Clearly, my thoughts were still muddled. After all, it wasn’t every day that a girl fainted from total anaphylactic shock in the middle of her birthday.
I finally crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash can. “That’s enough of that,” I said to myself, willing my body and mind to get to work.
I wish I could say that worked and I became the pinnacle of productivity. But as soon as I had the thought, my phone began to buzz, and buzz, and buzz.
I checked the time and realized it was one of my friends. The guests from the party were likely waking up. I supposed I should’ve been grateful that they waited overnight before texting me, allowing me to get the sleep I desperately needed, and I also had so many people concerned about my well-being. But mostly, I just felt overwhelmed, and very confused.
That feeling lasted all the way into my next class, causing me to drift in and out of the lecture. By the end of the session, I knew my notes were jumbled and borderline incomprehensible. I was gonna need to borrow notes from one of my friends to see if I could copy something a little bit more legible. Possibly Gavin?
Oooh, Gavin. Why did I feel particularly guilty and ambivalent when I thought of him?
He’d arrived at the hospital with my parents, held my hand, and was relieved when the doctors let me go home. He’d even kissed me goodnight. While I’d appreciated him being there and not saying anything about my ruining the party, I’d also wanted him to go away.
I was the world’s worst girlfriend.
I knew he had a later start than me on Monday. Once it got around the time he usually woke up, I’d send him a loving text thanking him for being such a good boyfriend, for being there for me, for feeding me orange juice when I’d been near delirious and just waking up from my fugue state.
“Remember to get your packets from the TA before you leave. These exercises will help you on our quiz next week.”
I was aware of what the professor was saying, but I could barely hear the words, and honestly, I didn’t care. This was pretty alarming because I always cared about my scholastic career. What was wrong with me?
Maybe some food would help. I hadn’t eaten a ton at the party, and certainly nothing since, so maybe low blood sugar combined with my anxiety was making me extra cranky.
With a solution in mind, I skipped getting the packet, figuring I could get a digital version of it later and print it out, and headed for the food court. I typically wouldn’t go there, as everything was overpriced and mostly junk, but I was feeling a nice Reuben sandwich, perhaps with extra meat.
My hunger was the first positive reaction I’d had all day, so I hurried there, ordered the food, and went back to the lab. Normally, food wasn’t allowed in the lab as it could contaminate different experiments, but my favorite desk was in the back half, which was largely used for writing things up away from the equipment. I’d be fine as long as there weren’t a lot of people there.
It was nice to step back into the lab, and I wasn’t surprised to see Moss or whatever their name was just leaving. We gave each other a nod, then I beelined my way towards the back. But as I pulled out my textbook to do the required reading, settling in to finally eat my sandwich, the janitor came in, whistling as he pushed his cart.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said, grinning. While I didn’t know all the janitorial staff at the college, I was familiar with the three who cleaned the labs in the mornings and evenings on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. “Just gonna grab that trash can from right next to you.”
My... my trash can?
All the resolve I’d had about not needing the guy who’d been stalking me vanished.
“Oh! I dropped something in there!” I yelped, practically diving into the small trash can beside my desk and grabbing the little yellow square of worn paper.
“It’s a good thing you caught me, then,” the janitor said. “Right after this, I go to the big dumpster.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured, now completely uninterested in my sandwich, which sucked because it smelled really good.
“I’ll be out of your hair in just a minute.”
“No worries. I’m gonna wash my hands, anyway.”
“Ah, good idea after digging around in the trash. I got hand sanitizer if you need it.”
“Nah, there’s always a giant one by our sink and wash station.”
The older man nodded. “Right on, right on. Makes sense. You know, this is one of my favorite rooms to clean. Sometimes the hazard bins can be a trip, but other than that, y’all keep it pretty clean. And if one of you does manage to make a mess, there’s always a good story around it.”
That got a laugh out of me, and he was absolutely right. The lab had only been completely closed off to us students twice so far in my scholastic career, and the reasons for both times were wild tales that’d even made the college paper.
“I hope to continue my streak of being an utterly boring story for you,” I said.
“Oh, I know. I can tell you’re one of the good ones. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
I smiled at that, feeling cheered up even though the formerly trashed note in my hands proved I didn’t have a good head on my shoulders at all. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“No problem. Now you finish up your food. It’s good to see y’all eating real meals instead of the caffeine and depression I see most young folks living on.”
How could I say no to that? Though my appetite was utterly gone, I went about washing my hands, then sat back down to the sandwich I’d been so excited for. To my great surprise, the moment I took a bite, my hunger slammed into me once more with full force, and I horked it down in an entirely unladylike manner.
I felt better once I was done, and I packed up as if I were getting ready to go, even if my afternoon class was still ahead. I supposed I just needed something to do, and sitting idle was giving my thoughts too much time to wander.
But once I was all gathered up, my eyes landed right back on the crumpled note. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my phone in one hand while the other smoothed out the tiny piece of paper.
Thankfully, the sensible side of my brain pointed out that if I called this mysterious stalker from my personal phone, he’d have my number, and judging from the fact that I hadn’t gotten any creepy texts or random calls in the middle of the night, he likely didn’t have it still.
Not my own phone, then. Now what? It wasn’t like payphones were common anymore.
I grabbed my things and headed into the hall, then wandered off, my mind spinning. Part of me was still backing out of calling at all, but there was some irresistible compulsion inside me that needed to talk to him. To ask him why he was following me, and why he’d saved my life.
If it hadn’t been confirmed by multiple doctors that it was indeed anaphylactic shock that’d beset me, I’d have thought he’d somehow poisoned me. However, since he couldn’t cause spontaneous development of a silver allergy, that was out the window.
While I was ruminating, my feet took me to one of the guidance offices dotting the campus. There, just in front of me, was a receptionist happily typing away on her computer.
Where there was a will, there was a way.
“Excuse me,” I said, entering the small but tidy place. “Could I use your phone? Mine needs to charge?”
“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Here you go.”
With that, she lifted the gray, squarish office phone on her desk and put it on the higher surface I assumed was mostly used for people to sign things. I sent her a grateful smile and dialed up the number.
I can help.
Help what?
The question echoed in my head, and I couldn’t even say what I was expecting. What was I hoping for? Was it just the mystery that’d pulled me in?
At least if it came to that, I could just hang up. He’d never know it was me, and he still wouldn’t have access to my cell phone.
“Hello?”
Oh, shit. I’d recognize that voice anywhere—which was a crazy thing to think, considering I’d only interacted with the guy a handful of times. Yet, as soon as I heard him, I felt my body respond. My pulse quickened, and my chest filled with a strange longing for which I was completely unprepared.
“Hello?” he said again. “Who is this? I don’t recognize this number.”
Just more confirmation that he was a lot older than me. I didn’t know anyone my age who’d answer the phone for an unknown number unless they were looking for a job.
“Who the hell are you?” I’d apparently decided to go on the offensive, which was a pretty ballsy thing to do given that, as far as he knew, I was a random caller.
But of course, he recognized my voice, because I somehow managed to literally hear his tone change.
“My name is Caleb, and I’m someone that can help.”
I realized the receptionist was staring at me, so I furtively turned my back to her like that would stop her from hearing everything. Hopefully, she wasn’t too much of a gossip. Yikes. “Help me with what?”
“With what’s happening to you. I know it can be overwhelming, but you don’t have to go through this all alone—and you can get through it.”
There it went, my heart pounding again. It was two parts fear as well as pure relief. He was a total stranger, and he’d acted supremely weird ever since I’d first run into him, but he knew about my sickness and seemed to actually get it.
What were the chances that he sincerely wanted to help?
“How do you know any of this?” I asked.
“Because I’ve been through it myself. So has everyone in my p… family.”
His family? Wait a minute…
“Have the fevers started yet?” he asked.
I swallowed hard. Even though he’d mentioned that symptom once before, it seemed so much more heady now. “Yeah.”
“What about strange feelings and interactions around men? Even ones to whom you’ve always been close?”
“You mean besides you?”
To my surprise, he chuckled, and it was such a rich, welcoming sound that my walls came down a little. “Yeah, besides me.”
I thought back to my birthday and how I’d felt about my father, the complete rush of awareness of him and familiar love that’d been borderline overwhelming. And the wary irritation I’d felt towards Gavin.
“I... you need to tell me everything,” I said.
“All right, but some of this might be difficult over the phone, and it can get… personal. I can tell that you’re in public.”
He could hear that?
“Why don’t we meet?” he suggested. “Where are you? On campus, I assume?”
The growing warmth in my stomach curdled at that. He was right, but that didn’t mean I wanted to admit it.
“Maybe.”
Another chuckle, and surprisingly, I didn’t feel patronized, just that I amused him. “Fair enough. How about we meet at the Pennington?”
“Pennington?”
“It’s a bar. A touch off-campus, but I can walk with you if you like. It’s perfectly natural to want an escort in your... condition.”
“In my condition?” I retorted sharply.
“I do believe I just mentioned the strange interactions with men, yes?”
Oh, so he was going to be cheeky with me? That shouldn’t have put me at ease, either, but it did. He was acting almost as normal as he was creepy, which was an interesting mix. “I’ll be fine. I can meet you there after my afternoon classes. Around six?”
“Sounds like a deal,” he said. “I’ll see you then, and I promise to answer any questions you have.”
“You better!”
I hung up, then stared at the phone until the receptionist cleared her throat.
Had... had I really done that? I was insane—there was no other explanation. But as ludicrous as the situation was, I was soothed by the idea that I had time to change my mind and forget all about the mystery stalker who’d supposedly “help” me.
I didn’t change my mind.
Oh, I tried to. Tried to tell myself it was the wise thing to do, and if I didn’t turn around, I’d end up on an episode of a true crime podcast by young women and housewives who were too enthusiastic about serial killers. I even cursed myself out a little, muttering furiously to myself as I stormed through the directions my phone gave me to this Pennington.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
But despite knowing exactly the risks, I was so full of determination that I also knew there was no chance I’d turn around. My mysterious fever, and all the other odd stuff happening to me, had thrown me so far off my groove. As a young med student, I couldn’t afford that. I needed everything to go back to normal as soon as possible.
Once I arrived in front of the bar, I was surprised by what I saw. I’d expected some gross, rundown dive bar. Somewhere I’d never go.
Yikes, was all that based on my stereotyping Caleb by what he wore?
As it was, I was already more comfortable than I’d been at BLX, and that feeling only continued as I stepped inside. The bar had a way nicer vibe than the club: sophisticated, but not stuffy. I’d been to some hoity-toity places with Gavin and hated every one of them.
The place was dim, but not so dark that I worried about colliding with someone. I looked around as I took a few steps in, logging as many details as I could. The bar looked like a mix of comforting and down-to-earth, all polished wood and shining chrome with clean lines. Masculine, but not exclusionary. Nice.
I didn’t see Caleb anywhere. Neither did I get his scent, which was one hell of a thought. Since when did I smell people?
I didn’t really want to deal with that, so I busied myself with finding a place where I could sit, far from the few patrons already in the establishment but still in sight of the front door so I could keep an eye on when Caleb showed up.
Caleb.
I kept turning his name this way and that in my head, like I was going to find some secret hidden within the two syllables. In some ways, it felt like it didn’t fit him at all. Between his rugged appearance and what I assumed was a biker outfit, I’d half- expected him to have a moniker like Buck, or some other salt-of-the-earth nickname.
But no. It was just... Caleb. Simple. No connotations. Perhaps white-bread, but only if I squinted.
As if I’d summoned him with my mind, the door to the Pennington opened, and in walked the man in question, still wearing his worn-out leather jacket. The rest of his outfit, though, was different from the other times I’d seen him. Black jeans had replaced his normally blue ones, and his shirt was crisp and white, as if he’d put it on straight out of the dryer.
Had... had he gotten dressed up for me?
What a ludicrous idea. Still, it flattered me, and ever more complicated feelings rose in my chest. Had I really turned into one of those girls who forgave a guy for all sorts of shitty behavior just because he was hot? Gag me.
“Hey there,” he said, spotting me immediately and quickly closing the distance between us. He didn’t exactly fit in with the men in ties and few ladies in business suits, yet he seemed entirely comfortable here. My anxiety could never achieve that.
“Hey,” I said politely before I had to catch myself. I was on a mission, not meeting up with a friend to chat. “So, you know what’s happening with me?”
He sat and nodded, getting straight down to business, which was a relief. “I do.”
He said it so flatly, not like he was holding secrets to what’d been bothering me for nearly a month. Actually, now that I was looking back on it, even longer. I’d chalked up the body aches, strange mood swings, on-and-off-again fever, and shifting appetite to school stress. Had I been comfortable at all in the past three months?
“Am I sick?” I blurted out, fearing the worst. Some strange plague or slow-rolling illness that’d eventually end up killing me, or trapping me within my own body like some living corpse?
“No,” he said with another one of those little chuckles. “Just different.”
What the fuck did that mean? “Different how?”
“Different like me, and a lot of my... family.”
Why did he always pause before that word? “Different from my family?”
“Different from your adoptive parents, yes.”
I paused. I should be concerned that he knew I was adopted, but I was too much like a bloodhound on a trail. I wasn’t about to be shaken off.
“But not different from your family,” I said pointedly. The wheels in my head turned faster and faster. “So, is this, uh, a genetic thing?” My eyes went wide as an impossible idea sprouted in my head. “You’re not my brother, are you?”
Never in my adopted life did I have the urge to find my bio-family, but the idea that I’d thought my blood brother hot made me nauseous.
Fortunately, Caleb snorted and laughed. Whew. That was a relief. “God, no.” But there was a pause. A critical pause. “But we are kin. In a way.”
Oh no, gross, gross, gross! Abandon ship! Not that Caleb and I were an item at all, of course. I was with Gavin. I was happy with him!
Wasn’t I?
“In what way?” I asked sharply.
Caleb didn’t answer for several seconds, and the wait was just too much for me.
“In what way?! ”
“Look, this is never an easy conversation to have,” he said, his smirk fading. “Why don’t I get us a couple of drinks, and we can talk?”
“How often do you have this conversation?”
“More than you would expect.”
Now I was really confused, and I felt my irritation rising. “Look, if you’re gonna beat around the bush, I’m just gonna leave. I came here to be helped, not dicked around.”
Another pause, but this time, I felt like his dark eyes were staring into the deepest parts of me, evaluating something I couldn’t see or wasn’t aware of.
“Would it freak you out if I told you that you weren’t entirely human?”
Then my mood crashed. I was a fool. Why had I expected him to be serious? He was some next-level stalker who’d somehow noticed the symptoms all my friends missed, then made up some cockamamie story about what... aliens? Bigfoot? Ugh. What a waste of my time.
“I’m not interested in fantasy or fiction, Caleb. If you’re gonna fuck around with me, I’d rather just leave.”
“It’s not fiction, love, although my life would be a lot easier if it were.”
I felt an uncharacteristic aggression rise within me. I didn’t know if I wanted to bare my teeth at him or mount hi?—
Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck was that? I mentally chided myself. Mount him? Where did that come from?
“I think I’m missing something,” I said.
“Look, I know this isn’t easy, but a change is coming.”
A change?
Before I could be the one to interrupt him, my phone did instead. I could practically feel Caleb bristle with frustration at being cut off, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he was quite the gentleman.
“Do you need to answer that?” he asked.
I looked at the screen and saw it was Gavin calling me. I hadn’t checked in with him since getting out of the hospital, so it would be prudent for me to tell him that I was alive and okay. It was the least I could do as his girlfriend.
“Yeah, I do.”
“No problem. Why don’t you handle that while I get us a drink? Any requests?”
“Just a glass of water.”
“Oh, come on. I’m buying.”
“A glass of water,” I repeated, leveling him with a gaze that told him I was being serious. Besides, considering I’d just gotten out of the hospital the night before, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to imbibe any alcoholic drink, let alone one from a stranger outside of my line of sight.
“Alright, then.”
He stepped away, and I hurriedly answered my phone. As I did, a wave of guilt came over me that I was out having drinks with another man when I was most decidedly taken. I certainly knew there was nothing romantic going on between me and my bizarre stalker, yet it still felt wrong somehow. I was attracted to Caleb just as much as I was suspicious of him.
Ugh, I didn’t like that possibility.
“Hey babe, how’s your day going?”
“Emily! It’s good to hear your voice. Your parents said you already went back to campus. Are you sure you’re ready for that? I don’t mind getting notes for you if you need to take a day or two out of class.”
“Oh no, I’m fine, I promise. Whatever was in that EpiPen did wonders because I feel right as rain.”
“Are you sure? You aren’t pushing yourself too hard, are you?”
“No, I’m trying to be mindful of things. I’ve even eaten twice today!”
Even over the phone, I could tell that Gavin was relieved, and that guilt doubled. I had no right to be as irritated with him as I was. He’d been nothing but a supportive boyfriend this entire time.
So why did being around him now grate on my nerves so much?
“That’s really good. But hey, I need to tell you something.”
All of a sudden, his voice had switched from worried but pleased to utterly serious, and my stomach dropped. What else happened? What else could go wrong in forty-eight hours?
“Look, I had a really bad feeling about that random doctor who just so happened to be at your party. So I may have gone back to your parents’ place and managed to lift a fingerprint while I was there.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry… you what now?”
“I know it sounds crazy, I do, but I just had this feeling. I took it to one of my uncle’s police friends and asked him to run it in the system. You won’t believe this, Emily, but that guy? He’s not a doctor at all. In fact, he’s a hardened criminal. Seriously, his rap sheet is like the length of my arm. He’s bad news. Have you ever seen him before?”
My skin went cold and clammy as I looked across the room at the back of the very man my boyfriend was warning about. Oh, God, I had really stepped in it, hadn’t I? I’d left the safety of my campus and gone to a new location with a man who was a career criminal.
It was like I didn’t want to survive.
Panic welled up, and I did my best to clamp down on it so it wouldn’t show all over my face. I didn’t know how successful I was, but I knew it was better to be safe than sorry.
“I don’t have the entire list memorized, but there was some freaky stuff on there. Possession and dealing, not to mention grand theft auto and assault. You know, I thought he looked familiar, and I finally remembered—I saw him back when we were at BLX. Do you remember? When you were sick?”
Holy shit. Had Caleb been following me all the way back then? The thought was horrifying, but it also confirmed he wasn’t some strange Good Samaritan here to help me out with a mysterious illness. He was a stalker through and through, and I needed to get away as fast as possible.
I chewed my lips, wondering how I was going to flee. There was no way to do it inconspicuously. I supposed I just needed to do it at the best moment, like when my would-be assailant was paying for our drinks.
As if he could sense my apprehension, Caleb looked over his shoulder right as I stood, and I didn’t waste a single second. I sprinted out the door and down the street, cursing myself as I went. I owed my boyfriend the biggest thank you and the biggest apology once I got home.
If I managed to get there in one piece.