Chapter 6 #2
Her muffled “Oh my god” makes me laugh, but it dies on my lips when I see it’s not my mom who’s texting me. It’s my stepdad.
“What is it?” Sav asks, immediately picking up on my mood change.
“Billy.” The one word answer is enough to have her growing pissed on my behalf.
“What does that bastard want?”
“To tell me I’m being a giant bitch for ignoring my mom,” I say, quickly reading through his angry rant of a text thread.
“You’re kidding me. He actually said that?” Sav reaches a hand out, so I give her my phone.
I watch as her jaw drops when she reads the you’re acting like a little bitch text my stepdad was kind enough to send.
Sav is the sweetest person alive, and her big heart means she’s super protective of those she cares about.
I’ve always been incredibly grateful that I’m a part of that group, but I also don’t want her worrying.
“He’s just being an ass,” I tell her.
She hands me back my phone and says, “When isn’t he being one?”
I try to make her smile by saying, “Well, he’s a much smaller one now that he’s stopped drinking.”
Sav’s still pissed, but she doesn’t look like she’s about to go kick anyone in the nuts, so I guess that’s progress. Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “So how’s Kappa life? Is Ben still drooling over you every chance he gets like an eager little puppy?”
She groans and grabs another slice of pizza. “He was waiting for me on the sidewalk this morning. He tried to play it off like we just happened to be leaving at the same time, but I’m pretty sure he was waiting so we could walk together.”
“He’s not taking the hint.” I toss my empty plate aside and lean back. “I know you don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you might have to be blunt at some point.”
She stops chewing to say, “Maybe, but it’s possible he just wants to be friends. I’ve never once led him on or made him think there was something there that wasn’t.”
“He does not just want to be friends,” I say with a laugh. “He wants you naked as quickly as possible.”
Sav laughs and shakes her head. “Not going to happen. I’m waiting for fireworks, and Ben doesn’t even count as a sparkler. There’s just nothing there, not even a tiny spark.”
“He’ll figure it out eventually,” I say, “and you’ll meet the right guy, the one that’s going to cause the kind of fireworks that’ll light your pants on fire.”
She gives me a big smile and laughs. “God, I hope so.”
“You will, of course you will,” I tell her.
“And you, too,” she says. “Your pants have to be on fire, too.”
I don’t tell her they already are, because that’s crazy, and I don’t want my best friend thinking I’ve lost my mind. Instead, I close my eyes and say, “I hope so.”
I feel the bed dip as she lays down beside me. “Still haven’t heard anything from you know who?”
“No.”
Even though I try to make that one word sound carefree, she picks up on my true feelings easily and scoots closer so her head is resting next to mine on the pillow.
“I know that night was traumatizing, and I know he saved you, but he killed three people, Cindy. This is not a guy you want to show back up in your life.”
I keep my eyes shut when I say, “I know, but I swear I feel him watching me sometimes.” Shame heats my cheeks when I add, “I don’t hate that feeling, those moments when I swear I can feel his eyes on me.”
She sighs and reaches down to squeeze my hand. “You’re so fucked in the head.”
Her words pull a laugh from me, just like she knew they would, so she keeps going.
“You’re going to fall in love with a psycho, and I won’t even be able to rescue you from him because you’ll want to stay.” She turns her head on the pillow to face me. “Promise you won’t just disappear and run off with your tattooed bad boy.”
I open my eyes and turn so we’re staring at one another across the pillow, just like we used to do when we were kids and having a sleepover. “I would never do that,” I tell her.
“Not even if he sets your panties on fire?”
I grin and hold up my pinkie. “Not even then. I’d at the very least send you a postcard from whatever tropical island he insists on taking me to.”
She hooks her pinkie around mine. “That’s not funny. Maybe he has a hot, tattooed friend who isn’t quite as unhinged as he is. You might be into that level of crazy, but I’m not.”
“Got it,” I tell her. “If my masked man ever shows up again, I’ll ask if he has a mid-level unhinged friend for my bestie.”
“Mid?” she asks with a grin. “More like entry level.”
I wiggle our pinkies. “Deal.” When she smiles back, I say, “No more men talk. We still have half a pizza and several episodes to get caught up on.”
Her hand goes to her flat stomach. “I’m so stuffed.”
“Don’t be a quitter, Sav.”
“You’re right. Never say die. Give me a minute and then I’ll be good for a few more slices.”
Savanna manages to take my mind off everything else, just like she’s been doing since we were kids, and despite how off kilter I’ve been feeling lately, I still have a great time with her and leave the next day feeling way better than I did the day before.
I’m determined to keep up the good mood, and it does last, for a while at least. I stay upbeat and focused while I catch up on classwork and do my volunteer shift at the animal shelter and even when I get in my work hours at the vet clinic.
I’m convinced I can make it last, that I’ll stop looking over my shoulder, desperate for a glimpse of the man who refuses to leave my head or the cute Doberman I’ve already gotten attached to.
Monday leaves me exhausted, Tuesday depresses the hell out of me because it’s been days since I’ve felt his presence, and Wednesday is a challenge to even drag myself out of bed.
I don’t understand why I’m so hung up on someone whose face I haven’t even seen.
When I try to rationalize it, all I can come up with is that it was a traumatic meeting and I feel like it was left unresolved.
Too many questions haunt my thoughts, too many things I don’t have the answers to, and underneath it all is the fact that I will never know who the hell he was.
It’s enough to drive anyone crazy, and by the time I fall into bed on Wednesday night, I’m more than a little bit frustrated and irritable.
I don’t know how to get past this, and I’m tempted to start my own search for him, but I don’t even know where to begin.
Even trying to recognize his body on campus is impossible, not to mention the enormous city we’re surrounded by.
It’s useless. He isn’t going to be found unless he wants to be, and it’s painfully obvious at this point that he doesn’t want to be found, at least not by me.
I toss and turn for hours before finally falling asleep, and on Thursday I wake to find a note on my desk.
As soon as I see the masculine penmanship, my heart starts racing.
He was here last night. He broke in while I was sleeping and did what?
Stood around watching me sleep and then wrote me a note?
It’s impossible to not be unsettled by it, and I immediately regret my earlier, very misplaced interest in this guy. I’m playing with a danger that I have no right to play with. I’m so far out of my depth I can’t even see the shore.
With shaky fingers, I grab the note and start to read.
My little Cyn,
Your Russian teacher is an ass, and I don’t like the way he looks at you. Be careful with him. You’re a trusting person, Cyn, but many people are unworthy of that trust. Don’t let your guard down with him.
I find myself thinking about you, and I’m not sure what to do about that.
You occupy my mind in a way that I’m not used to.
I wonder if you’ve been thinking about me.
I think maybe you have been. I’ve noticed you watching the crowds a lot on campus.
Is it me you’re looking for? Have you spotted me yet?
Did you enjoy the movie the other night?
Did you feel me reach out and touch you?
The truth is I’ve been watching you very closely, and last night isn’t the first time I’ve broken in to watch you sleep. Does that scare you, my little Cyn?
You look very sweet while you sleep, so trusting and vulnerable. I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.
Do me a favor, my little Cyn, wear the green dress in your closet today. I want to see you in it. I want to see your beautiful red hair against it.
I’ll see you soon.
—Your very confused stalker
P.S. Chort misses you.
I sink into my chair, too stunned to do anything besides read it again, and when that’s not enough I do it a third time before setting it aside. It doesn’t matter how many times I read it, it’ll never make sense to me.
He’s been watching me this whole time? And he snuck into my dorm to watch me sleep? Jesus, I knew that was him touching me at the movie theater!
My eyes dart to my roommate’s side of the room.
She was here last night. How the fuck did we both sleep through that?
My mind immediately goes straight to the tiny little shorts and tank tops she likes to sleep in, and I can’t help but wonder if he watched her too.
Then I shake my head at how fucked up this all is.
I’m jealous now? I’m actually jealous that the crazy guy might’ve stared at Brittney while she slept and not just me? What the hell is wrong with me?
Folding the note and putting it in my desk next to the first one he’d left me, I walk to my small wardrobe and find the green dress.
I know exactly which one he’s talking about because it’s the only one I have.
I’d bought it last summer but have yet to work up the courage to wear it.
It’s a casual summer dress, spaghetti straps and a length that puts it just slightly above my knees.
Small white daisies decorate the deep green fabric, and there’s nothing even remotely scandalous about it.
My hesitancy has nothing to do with it being too short or cut too low.
It’s not that it shows too much skin, it’s that it shows skin at all.
I’m well aware that I’m not model thin like my cheerleading roomie or the Kappa girls.
I’ve got a few extra pounds, and they won’t be easy to hide while I’m wearing this.
I run my eyes over the fabric, remembering how happy I’d been when I’d first seen it. I love this dress, and I’ve never once worked up the courage to wear it. It just sits in my closet, week after week, month after month because I’m too embarrassed and intimidated to put it on.
That’s really fucking stupid.
Grabbing the hanger, I make the decision to be bold, to do the thing I’m scared of and face my fears.
It’s time to wear the cute dress for the guy who may or may not want to kill me.