Stalker Problems - Chapter 2 - Stranger Danger
Such a stalker.
I stared at the car disappearing into traffic as I took another sip of my smoothie.
I immediately gagged again, somehow forgetting the disgusting flavors from a few seconds ago.
Gross. Trying new things sucked. I threw the smoothie into the dumpster.
The sight of it made me shiver. Did I really almost jump in there?
That would have been crazy.
As soon as my stalker’s limo was out of sight, I emerged from my hiding spot.
That was a close call. Yes, he’d seen me spying on him.
But I’d seen him looking for me. I was already in a good mood.
But him missing me? That was the icing on the cake.
I smiled to myself. I wanted to dance and jump and sing in the middle of the sidewalk.
But if I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for my spin class.
My ex-husband had royally screwed me in the divorce.
The stupid cheating asshole had blackmailed me with a sex tape I’d made for him a few years ago.
He had only left me with two things in the divorce: enough money to pay three months’ rent in the dingy old apartment we’d gotten when we first moved to New York, and a membership to this stupid spin class right in the center of Manhattan.
He’d given it to me two years ago for Christmas.
I’d taken it as an insult and never gone.
So of course he left it to me as one final jab at my self-confidence.
The joke was on him, though, because I’d been coming here for months, focusing on getting the best damned revenge body in the history of revenge bodies.
And I was confident-AF. Most days. I also didn’t mind that coming here gave me an excuse to lurk outside One57 at 8 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that my stalker could get me out of his system.
Did I say lurk? I meant casually lounge on a bench.
Those biweekly encounters were probably the only thing keeping my stalker sane and preventing him from showing up at my house with a knife or something crazy. That was a scary thought.
Hopefully my stalker was of the sweet variety.
Although, I bet he was a beast in the bedroom.
He had that look about him. Rawr. I bet he rawred in the bedroom.
I pictured him stalking me like a lion on the prowl.
Pouncing on me and tangling us up in the sheets.
I couldn’t wait to run my fingers through his hair.
And feel the scruff on his jaw line. And ask him a million questions about his personal life.
I walked into the locker room. It always felt like I’d accidentally wandered backstage at an Odegaard fashion show. Seriously. Joe had definitely picked out this place specifically to torture me. But I wasn’t fazed. After all, none of these women had the most gorgeous stalker on earth. I did.
I opened my locker and started to change.
I ignored the way my jeans tried to rip off my underwear with them because they were so tight.
I pretended I didn’t have stretch marks on my ass that grew too fast in college because of the all-you-can-eat buffets.
Spoiler alert, I could eat a lot. Because food without hemp was delicious.
Luckily for me, a lot of the food went straight to my boobs too.
I snuck a sideways glance at the girl next to me.
She had stripped down to her $500 lingerie and was literally measuring her waist. She had a tape measure in one hand as she jotted down the measurements with her other.
I shouldn't have looked. But I couldn't help myself.
Twenty-two inches. Twenty-two! How was that even possible?
Fine, maybe it bothered me a little to be surrounded by all these supermodels.
I pulled my red hair into a messy bun. It wasn’t worth comparing myself to these women though.
They were stunning, yes. And me? I just had a smattering of freckles across my nose and a face that made me look like I was forever in high school.
But my stalker stared at me like I was sexy.
Not cute. Hopefully he’d never accidentally stroll into this room.
Because I couldn’t deal with my stalker stalking anyone else.
Maybe he preferred cute little redheads to wine, dine, and cut up into little pieces.
God, why am I suddenly picturing my stalker as a serial killer?
I needed to stop with my overactive imagination.
He just likes to wine and dine and have magnificent sex with redheads.
No murder necessary. But what man really preferred redheads?
I was pretty sure the answer was none. Because gingers are weird and people think we don’t have souls.
For the record, we do. But I did understand why guys preferred blondes with tanned skin.
All the ones I knew were always smiling.
It truly seemed like they did have more fun.
And there was no doubt about the existence of their souls.
"Hey girl," said someone behind me. A normal person would have turned around and said hi.
But I wasn't normal. The thought of a stranger talking to me made my heart rate double.
Small talk felt like being waterboarded, and it was only amplified by the fact that small talk at this spin class was mostly about how Yvonne had taken three whole weeks to get back into Instagram shape after having her baby. What a lazy slut, huh?
Please don't be talking to me. Please don't be talking to me, I thought as I buried my head in my locker. I tried to look busy by moving my bag around.
"Ash," said the person.
Not necessarily me. There could be plenty of Ashleys here.
And then they tapped on my shoulder.
Screw my life . I didn’t want to talk about Yvonne’s weight loss when technically I’d been gaining weight over the past few months instead of losing it.
I didn’t know how that was happening. I was pretty sure it was because I was gaining muscle.
And maybe a little because I refused to stop eating ice cream.
What kind of monster gives up ice cream?
Although, talking to one of the members of my spin class might be helpful.
Because I was really wondering if I should be eating protein before or after my workout.
I’d been getting these protein smoothies before coming here and now I was just worried that was exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. Hmm…
“Ash!”
Oh God, I can’t stall anymore. I slowly turned to see which of the supermodels deigned to speak to me. But it wasn't one of them. It was my best friend, Chastity.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. I didn’t wait for her to respond before I threw my arms around her. I was just so relieved I didn’t have to talk to a stranger today. My best-day-ever streak was continuing.
Chastity laughed. Then she pulled back and gave me a devious smile. "I wanted to come see what drags you all the way out here to midtown twice a week. I have to admit, I'm disappointed so far. I was expecting there to be a pizza and ice-cream buffet. Or at least some hot guys."
Oh God, does she somehow know about my stalker?
I kind of liked having this one thing all to myself.
Although if he were a serial killer, it would be good to give Chastity a heads up.
I bit the inside of my lip. Telling her could wait.
He hadn’t even done anything dangerous yet.
Just those sultry looks. Mmm. "Sorry to disappoint. "
"So what am I missing? Is it the instructor? Is he #gorg or..."
That was definitely not it. But if I admitted there were no hot guys here, she’d leave. And I was super happy she was here. I slammed my locker closed. "Come on, class is about to start." I grabbed her arm to pull her through the sea of models.
Chastity shook her head. “Spin classes are so 2010. If you really want a good workout, you should come to my nude yogalates class sometime.”
Never.
“But for now, we should go back to my place, get some takeout, and watch whatever show you want. Burgers on me.”
That was such a tempting offer. Especially because today had been amazing and I had so much to celebrate.
But I needed this. After my separation from Joe, I’d resolved to focus on finding myself.
And I wasn’t going to find myself at my favorite burger joint.
“But you haven’t even seen the hot instructor yet.
” I raised both my eyebrows. He wasn’t actually hot.
But Chastity didn’t need to know that yet.
Hopefully once she was in there, she’d just finish the class with me.
Although I never really knew what to expect with Chastity.
She’d probably flirt her way out of the class somehow.
“I knew it,” she hissed. “Look at you, you can’t stop smiling. I knew you came down here all the time to ogle some hottie. I’ll be your wing girl and try to get his number for you.”
I was smiling because I was finally divorced.
And I’d confirmed that my stalker was stalking me.
And I’d gotten my freaking dream job! Oh, I badly wanted to tell Chastity that I got the job.
After all…she’d hooked me up with the interview.
We’d been talking about getting to work together ever since graduating from college.
It was going to be so much fun. But if I told her right now, she’d definitely pull me out of here and say we needed drinks to celebrate.
And I wanted to get my spin on. I’d tell her right after we were done.
“This is perfect,” Chastity said. “I keep telling you, you’re going to feel so much better after you get laid.”
I laughed. She was going to be wildly unimpressed by my spin class instructor.
If only she could somehow get the number of the guy I was stalking.
I shook my head. He was stalking me . And I didn’t need a wing woman when it came to my stalker.
I needed a restraining order. The guy was clearly obsessed with me. In a really good way.
I knew what I needed to do. And it had nothing to do with getting a restraining order.
I needed to be my own wing woman. On Thursday at 8 o’clock I’d walk right up to my stalker and introduce myself.
I just needed to figure out the particulars.
And do some research to see if I could fit a fire extinguisher in my purse just in case I accidentally recreated the events of the incident .
And maybe do some light stalking of my own to make sure he’s not a serial killer.