Chapter 25
People doing it in public are exhibitionists
Donovan and I sat at a table at the far back of Hot Shot with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, before us—his treat—and brownie pieces—my treat. The smell of warm baked croissants and freshly brewed coffee filled the air and tickled my nostrils.
“Now, you will tell me what’s going on with Football Hottie Number One. Start from the beginning. Earlier, I sensed some unfinished business between you two. Go on, I’m all ears.” He waved a hand, waiting for me to say something.
“Gosh.” I dipped a finger into the fluffy white delicacy in front of me and sucked my digit clean.
Back in high school, I would have been caught dead before indulging in the sugary cream.
Now, it felt like comfort food instead of empty calories.
Not that I wasn’t tempted to order water at first when we got here, but then I had psyched myself up and reminded myself that version of me lived in the past. I was allowed to enjoy the moment without obsessing over the details.
“It all began when I moved from New Jersey to Michigan, days before starting seventh grade…”
I told him about that day when Mason and I became instant friends, the friendly date we had at his house that night, the humiliation that followed when he claimed me in front of all the kids at school two days later, and the way I had pushed him away so people wouldn’t point fingers at me.
I told him about Paige dating his brother and Mason and I not acknowledging each other for the longest time, his extra-curricular activities, Nathan Bellevue’s assault, our renewed friendship the day I got sick and how he watched over me that night before saving my life.
Donovan stared at me with big eyes, running a hand through his short blond hair. “Okay. Stop right there. You’re telling me he missed practice, drove you home, made you soup from scratch, and you didn’t pick up on the hints?”
I shrugged. “In my defense, I was really sick. Sure, it was confusing, but Mason had always been confusing to me. It wasn’t unusual for him to act out of character.”
“Girl, it’s not just a crush. He really fancies you. He’s head over heels gone for you. If you didn’t know, now you do.”
“Wait. You haven’t heard the entire story yet.”
“There’s more? Please continue.”
I rubbed my hand over my dress. “Where was I? Oh yes. The surgery. It is what brought us closer but also fucked up everything.”
“How so?”
“Remember when I told you I relapsed last year?”
He nodded.
“Well, it was—” My phone rang, and for a second, I thought about ignoring it, until I saw it was Cassidy. I lifted a finger. “Gimme a sec, I need to take this.” I pressed the green button to answer. “Cassie?”
“Oh, Mel. Thank God you answered. I know you have class right now, but I really need you. Like, right now.” She sounded out of breath.
I scanned the space around me. “Where are you? I thought you had a shift starting soon.”
Her voice cracked. “I-I’m in our room.”
I sat up straight at the urgency in her voice. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you sick?”
“No. I’m all right. I just… Mel, someone was following me earlier, and I just received a package. I’m scared.”
“What the hell? Someone is stalking you?”
“I’m not sure. Please come here, and I’ll explain everything.”
I stood. “On my way.”
She hung up before I could add anything.
Donovan studied me with a frown. “What was that?”
“No idea. Some lunatic could be stalking Cassie. I gotta go.”
He stood. “Need me to tag along?”
“Nah. Thanks, though. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Jesus, Mel, your life is never boring. We’ll reschedule this little meeting another day. We’re not finished. Now go.”
Only one name flashed in my mind as I rushed to the dorms. Was Evan Nichols responsible for stalking my roommate?
After all, he’d mentioned hurting Cassidy the other night if he believed I'd ratted him out.
Should I tell the cops? If I went to them, would he follow through on his threat to hurt my friends and Mason?
I used my key card to let myself in and realized my hands were shaking. I inhaled and exhaled, trying to keep my composure and avoid panicking as I sprinted up the staircase.
Nah, it had to be Carl. That would explain everything.
He had been following her for a while and had displayed a rather stalkerish attitude toward her.
There were the phone calls. They had started weeks before I caught Nichols in the library, so it couldn’t be him.
Nothing pointed toward the football player.
I relaxed a bit at the thought we were dealing with someone else.
Cassidy ran into my arms the moment I set foot in our room.
I leaned back to study her. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Did you go to campus security?”
“Not yet. I doubt I’ll be at the top of their priority list. Some girl got drugged and raped last night in the woods by the path on the west side of campus.
I didn’t spot the guy who followed me. I’m sure he was a he, though.
He was wearing a dark hoodie with the hood on over a baseball cap, sunglasses, and dark pants. ”
“Not sketchy at all.”
She shrugged. “At first, I thought we were just going the same way, but then I turned left, and he followed suit. Just to make sure I was not being paranoid, I entered the bookstore. He was right behind me, pretending to shop.”
“So, you saw him?”
“No. He was close, but not that close. Just enough that I knew he was there, without being close enough that I could notice anything about his features.”
“Do you think it could be Carl?” I asked.
She shrugged. “No idea. The guy was tall and had broad shoulders like him, but I don’t think it was him. Call it a hunch.” She huffed a breath. “I guess there’s just one way to find out.”
“You’ll ask him? Are you sure it’s smart?”
“I don’t think he has what it takes to be a mastermind criminal, but I’ll try to get him to confess if that’s the case.
From what I know, Carl doesn’t fit the profile of someone who would go to such lengths as to wear a disguise just to scare me.
I’ve never seen him wearing anything else other than Corduroy and old men’s cardigans and shirts.
Also, he can barely say a word to me when he comes to Hot Shot. It doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” From what I’d witnessed, I wasn’t certain Nichols fit the profile either. He’d been straightforward when he had threatened me. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Sure. But there’s something else. Seconds after I got back here, someone delivered this.” She pointed behind her.
I spotted the bouquet wrapped in kraft paper. “Someone gifted you flowers? I don’t understand.” I went to pick it up.
“Check the note.”
I read the short message on a piece of white cardstock lying on the desk.
Your lips are red
But you don’t deserve red roses
Only the black dying ones
Which are the same color as your heart
These flowers remind me of you
Because you should be rotting in hell
Where you belong
You fucking cunt
“Cassie, do you think it’s serious? Do stalkers write poems? Not that this is a poem, but it sounds a bit like it. You’re the criminology and psychology expert here.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. It feels more like a bad joke. Or some sort of prank.”
“Do you know someone who’s like obsessed with you, other than Carl? Or could it be someone in one of your classes trying to do some psychological experiment on you? But again, why would someone call you a cunt. It doesn’t add up.”
“I can’t think of anyone. Just make sure you lock the door when you’re here alone. And be careful. We never know.” She stood and turned to face me. “Were you in class when I called?”
“I was at Hot Shot, actually. With Don.”
“Why?”
“Long story. Mason-related. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Fine. Wanna walk me to work? The first latte is on me.”
“You sure you’re okay to go to work now?”
“Yes. The sooner I go back to my normal life, the less I’ll worry about psychos on the loose. And maybe Carl will show up, and I’ll be able to have that chat with him.”
Cassidy and I sat on our beds, facing each other, later that evening. “Okay, I gotta be honest with you about something,” I said as I set my half-eaten plate beside me on the bed. “You know the day we studied at the library and you left early?”
“What about it?” she asked, bringing a forkful of food to her mouth.
“After you were gone, I witnessed two people having sex on the third floor. It turned out one of them was Mase’s teammate, and he recognized me.
Evan Nichols. The same guy I’ve been having face-offs with a couple of times at work.
He cornered me at Lola’s that night and threatened to hurt me or you or Don or even Mase if I told anyone about his sexual encounter against the bookstacks. ”
“Why would he do that? People doing it in public are exhibitionists. They love the risk that comes with getting caught. It’s a dopamine thing in their brain.
Some chemical reward for getting to completion without someone barging in on them.
Like skydiving or swimming with sharks. I get the appeal, but I’d never risk getting arrested for some super kinky sex.
Anyway, sorry for dumping on you info you didn’t ask for.
I just find humans’ unexpected behaviors super fascinating.
Back to business. Why would this guy even care you saw him?
Unless he was with a professor or someone else’s girlfriend.
He asked for attention when he dropped his pants in the library, no? ”
I fidgeted with Mason the elephant. “He’s…he was getting a blow job.”
“So? I kinda figured out that part.”
“From an-another guy.”
Cassidy’s fork fell from her grip. “Oh. And he’s like hiding his sexual preferences and doesn’t want anyone to find out?”
“Kinda.”
“The library is a weird place to bump uglies with another guy if you wanna hide you’re gay. Have you told Mason?”