Chapter 4 Eris
“Ithink I pulled a muscle,” I mutter into my mimosa.
Roo doesn’t look up to acknowledge me. She’s too busy trying to get a selfie where her citrus wedge and cleavage coexist peacefully in the same frame.
“You think?” she asks with a snort. “I know you did. You limped into the cafe like a hungover doe freshly wrecked by a truck named Regret.”
I attempt a glare. A very weak one. It’s hard to fully commit when my thighs are still sort of shaking from last night. Call it overexertion or dehydration… But—
“It wasn’t regret,” I say, slouching deeper into the iron chair on the quaint patio.
Roo finally looks up, sunglasses sliding down her nose so I can see the golden hue of her hazel eyes. Her expression softens just a little, enough for me to grow suspicious.
“You okay?” she inquires, grimacing. “Emotionally, I mean.”
I nod. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“You don’t look emotionally okay,” she tells me tenderly, but the glint in her eyes gives her away before she stirs up her bullshit. “You look like you’ve been gently destroyed in a way that might change your taste in music.”
I choke on my drink. “Jesus, Roo.”
She sips her mimosa like she’s innocent. “What? I’m happy for you. I’m just saying—”
“Stop telling me how I look. I get it.”
Roo ignores my interruption. “You’ve got that post-death, pre-resurrection glow. Like you saw God last night, and he bought you breakfast.”
“It wasn’t God,” I mumble, tugging my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands.
My best friend raises an eyebrow, too observant in the nuances of Eris Caldwell.
I don’t elaborate.
Because the truth is worse.
It wasn’t God.
It was Kieran… whoever he is.
With the deep green eyes that keep popping into my mind, the large hands that will haunt my dreams, and a gravitational pull I can’t rationalize.
I’ve only seen him twice, but I already need to see him again.
I reach for my phone without thinking. And like it knows, like it’s been waiting for my attention, the app is already open.
Locke:
You’re glowing this morning.
I smirk, propping my hand under my chin like I’m showing off.
To Roo, it will look like I’m taking a selfie…
I’m not, though. I’ve made it my personal mission to see how far I can push the men behind the app.
I want them to break and show themselves to me.
Also, I want to know how much access they have to me on a daily basis.
Eris:
Do you use the camera that much?
Locke:
Only when I’m starved.
My fingers pause as I note the change in tone. This one is different again. Smooth, calculated, his answer a little too controlled.
Not Whisper.
Not the watcher in my bedroom
Someone else. The third one in their triad.
I haven’t quite sorted the difference between Hollow and Cipher because sometimes they blend. One of them is the dirty poet, and the other is the man who always sounds like he wants to lock me in a room to keep me safe from the world.
Whisper flirts as much as my peeping poet does, but he sounds more like a jealous boyfriend.
At least, this is my new running guess today.
Eris:
I’m going to call you the locksmith until you tell me which one you are.
I know you’re not Whisper, and you’re not the one who watched me in my apartment yesterday.
So… who are you? What do I call you?
There’s a long pause this time, like he can’t decide how to respond. Maybe he’ll give me his real name instead of a username? I’m on the fence about asking Roo to look into them, but honestly… I’m enjoying this risk far more than I should.
Am I really ready for this secrecy to end?
Locke:
Does it matter?
Eris:
It does when I’m telling you things I shouldn’t.
It matters because I want to know who to call when I want to talk to you.
The pauses between his responses stretch beyond my patience, but I think it’s the calculating behavior that makes him think through every word he types to me. He never gives me much to work with, not like the other two.
The fact that he watches me when he’s starving, though? Yeah, I bet he’s a good girl kind of guy, and while I won’t call him daddy, I do love to be praised for being so sweet.
Locke:
You’ve met me.
My stomach flips, pulling me from the beginning of my dirty thoughts.
Eris:
Last night?
Locke:
Maybe.
Maybe not…
That’s not a yes, but it’s not a no. It’s literally the only two options there are, except he’s also typed them in a way that allows me to feel him shrug as he answers noncommittally.
And it’s an obvious deflection that makes my heart rate kick up a notch.
Roo is still texting someone—probably her brother or last night’s victim—so I get a quiet second to breathe as I decide if I want an answer.
Until my phone buzzes again.
But it’s not HimLock. It’s a new message from another unknown number that my phone now recognizes as the jackass that won’t leave me alone.
Probably Daniel:
You looked pretty walking home this morning.
My jaw tightens as a picture appears in the chat.
It’s me. From behind. Crossing the street in last night’s dress, hair pulled in a sloppy bun atop my head as I press my phone to my ear.
The picture isn’t grainy, as if he had to zoom in. It’s angled in such a way that it looks like he was walking only feet away from me.
“Roo,” I call quietly.
My tone catches her attention immediately, and she glances around us, instantly on guard. “What? What’s wrong?”
I turn my phone so she can see what has my skin crawling.
Her worried expression drops like a stone, morphing into something bloodthirsty and livid. “Is that—?”
“Daniel,” I confirm, nodding as I study the crowded sidewalk at her back.
“We’re leaving,” she tells me, snatching her purse over her head so it sits across her body. “Now.”
Back at Roo’s townhouse, I drop onto the couch like my bones are full of bees. I’m buzzing so much I feel as if I’ll vibrate right into the floor. All this adrenaline needs an outlet.
But murder isn’t an option at this moment.
“I didn’t even go home until this morning,” I say as I watch Roo pace like a feral animal. “So, he followed me from the bar last night, and then he waited for me to leave. How else would he know when I left if he wasn’t waiting?”
“He’s pushing it again,” she all but growls. “Do you want to call the cops?”
“And tell them what?” I ask with too much calm. “My unblocked ex sent a creepy text and a photo of me on a public street? If I bring him under that much attention, then I’ll have to ask Gem to clear it from the records, and I don’t really want to owe a favor.”
“Block him.”
“I have. Three times in the first week. He keeps changing numbers.”
She curses under her breath as she paces laps through her townhouse. There is no talking to her when she’s thinking like a wild animal. But I suspect before the day is over, she’ll have worked out how we’ll dismember his body and where we’ll leave the pieces.
I open the app… because I’m a sucker with nothing better to do.
Eris:
He texted me again. And he sent a picture.
How is he always one step ahead? I can’t figure it out. He’s not good with tech, so I’m assuming it’s just regular stalking…
Whatever that looks like.
The reply comes instantly.
Locke:
Because he’s obsessed. And he has no rules.
But I do.
My brows lift, a surprised smile crawling across my lips.
Eris:
Ahhh, still here, huh?
Are you pretending you’re not as obsessed as he is? Or is that where your rules come in?
Like… You’ll watch me through the cameras you installed in my apartment, but you won’t take still images of me because that crosses your boundary?
Locke:
You’re getting good at this.
Where are you? We can’t see you…
Eris:
Don’t praise me for catching you lying.
Who are you? I think you should tell me your name before I voluntarily disclose my every step to you.
A beat passes, and I wonder if I pushed him too much. This one is so quiet sometimes, I almost feel like I’m taking advantage of him every time he says more than a few words. Then I roll my eyes at myself. He’s literally stalking me, not that I’m complaining. Yet.
Locke:
Cipher.
The name seems like something he hides behind. I hardly believe he has no personality or importance. He’s too precise and sharp with his words, making me think he’s one of those guys you don’t realize is smart until they talk about a topic that feels like listening to an alien language.
If he’s a hot, nerdy guy confident enough to stalk me and lie to me while not sensing the darkness that surrounds me, I’ll expire on the spot. That combo is fucking dangerous for my health.
Eris:
Cipher… tell me something.
Are you real?
Or is this all app logic and testing?
A manipulation?
What should I believe?
The typing dots appear and disappear and reappear. My impatience grows into something I can hardly contain. Now that I’ve asked, I need an answer. I don’t want to play this game if it’s just a test of their system.
Locke:
Everything I say to you is real. Even if it started as something else…
We’re past testing now. And you feel it. I know you do.
My throat tightens, certainty and reality choking me with just how right his words feel. I’m not quite ready to tell him he’s figuring me out, though. I need to meet them first, find out if I can have no secrets or if I’ll need to kill them before they expose me.
And that hits harder than anything Daniel could do to me. I don’t mind the prospect of killing him, but the thought of killing my HimLock guys turns my stomach sour.