Chapter One #2
First of all, I’d made the pie. My mother barely had enough energy left to shower after working two jobs. Second, I wasn’t offering Miguel anything except maybe directions to the nearest cliff.
Heat clung to the kitchen, causing sweat to slide down my temple. I just wanted to grab some food and go to my room before I had a heat stroke in front of Miguel. He looked like the type to grope an unconscious guy.
After setting my phone face down on the counter, I swung the fridge door open, then groaned as the cold air hit my face.
“There’s water in there too,” Miguel said behind me.
“I can see that.” Like I needed him explaining the contents of my own refrigerator.
I reached for the deli meat, mostly to give myself something to do besides acknowledge how close he was standing. If I stepped backward, I’d hit him.
A beer bottle appeared at the edge of my vision. Miguel reached past me into the fridge, his arm brushing mine on the way back.
My shoulders tightened immediately.
The worst part was he knew exactly what he was doing.
I froze for half a second before setting the package of meat on the counter like that had been the plan all along. To make a sandwich, not devour the lasagna I’d spent hours making two nights ago.
Miguel twisted the beer cap off and took a drink. His eyes stayed on me over the bottle.
Apparently, he planned on lingering back here forever.
I shut the fridge harder than necessary and went to the cabinet for bread.
“Still jumpy,” he said, leaning a hip against the counter.
“I’m not jumpy.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You almost launched your phone across the kitchen.”
Because you keep sneaking up on people like a serial killer.
I grabbed the loaf of bread and stepped sideways. Miguel shifted just enough to let me pass. Just enough to make sure I noticed he was allowing it.
My skin tried to crawl off my body. An urge to shove him away overwhelmed me, but that calculated look in his eyes flatlined the thought instantly.
“You still living here full-time?” he asked.
“Obviously.” I kept my attention on the counter while I opened the bread bag. Eye contact might trigger his crazy button.
“Must get lonely with your mom working so much.”
The way he said it made my shoulders tense again. Like he wasn’t talking about the house. Like he was trying to figure out how alone I was here.
Not a chance in hell I was inviting him to hang out, if that’s what he was hinting at. I would rather hang out with a pack of rabid dogs.
I shrugged, hoping he’d finally get bored and leave me alone.
Unlikely.
Since discovering Ramos was out of prison and planned to live at home, my day had steadily gone downhill.
Half the dryers at work stopped heating around noon.
A pack of unattended kids spent an hour sprinting through the laundromat screaming like tiny, caffeinated demons.
Then one of them jammed the change machine with what looked suspiciously like gum, and somehow that became my fault according to every angry customer within a three-foot radius.
My head still throbbed and Mr. Creep wasn’t making it any better.
Miguel took another drink before stepping closer. “You always did keep to yourself.”
Which I was trying to do now.
I’d made the mistake of glancing at him once already and caught the smirk pulling at his mouth. He was enjoying this. Pushing buttons just to see me squirm.
I opened the cabinet and grabbed a plate. “Hmm.”
“Still shy?”
Oh my god. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to shout, throw something at him. Instead, I looked at the bread box. Then at the sink. Then at the half loaf of wheat bread. Anywhere but his face. “Just tired.”
“Tired, huh?”
Every instinct I had screamed at me to get out of the kitchen. Instead, I kept making my sandwich like everything was normal. Like there wasn’t a creep standing too close behind me getting entertainment out of making me uncomfortable in my own house.
Keep quiet. Act like he’s invisible.
The last thing I needed was to give Miguel a reason to focus on me more than he already was.
Because he’s doing such a fantastic job respecting your boundaries already.
Great. Now my brain was arguing with itself.
This night needed to end. Fast.
Miguel’s stare stayed fixed on me while I pulled cheese and mayo from the fridge. The longer he stood there watching me, the tighter my shoulders got.
It felt weirdly like being observed instead of talked to, almost like I was performing for someone who might abduct me later.
That might’ve sounded dramatic, but Miguel had always given off a quiet serial-killer vibe. The kind of psycho who looked at flies and wondered what would happen if he pulled the wings off one at a time.
I focused on making my sandwich, my movements quicker now. Bread. Mayo. Turkey. Cheese. If I acted busy enough, maybe he’d finally lose interest and go bother someone else.
“Used to be all elbows,” Miguel murmured.
I kept my attention locked on the sandwich.
“Grew into your body nicely.” He took another sip of beer. “Slim looks good on you.”