CHAPTER 35 #2
“They acted like they liked me, but it wasn’t real, it wasn’t authentic. Not like us.”
Oh my god.
“So this time I made a promise to myself.” He’s not speaking to me anymore.
He’s speaking at me, captivated by his own delusion, and I use the moment to flick my gaze around the space to see if there’s anything that will bring a Final Girl scene to mind.
Something that will help me get the fuck away from him.
“I wouldn’t just fall for a pretty smile and some common interests.”
He’s blocking the stairs so that’s a no-go.
“I’d make sure that she was good enough for me.”
I could shove him down them, but it’s too risky. I know how strong he is. Not to mention, he could pull me down with him.
“I’d make sure she was serious about us going the distance.”
He steps back and I try not to cry with relief as he…
performs this rationalization in front of me.
He’s dropped the injured act. There’s no limping or favoring one shoulder or cradling his arm anymore.
He’s gotten through this whole night unscathed while the rest of us are in shambles.
If I had that stake I could shove it into his chest, go full Buffy on his stalking—
“And, Jamie…”
That draws my eyes to his and he’s captivated by me again, walking back into my space, leaning.
The same way he did earlier in the night, but there’s no flurry of excitement or giddy anticipation like before.
I know him now, and it doesn’t matter that I used to think he was cute.
Not when I know he’s a wolf in Bill Pullman clothing.
“You’re beyond what I expected.”
Funny, he’s beyond what I expected, too. So far beyond reason I know I can’t do anything to convince him I didn’t want anything he’s done tonight. I don’t appreciate any of his efforts.
“You did all of this to—”
“To make sure. I thought I could just go about meeting my soul mate by doing what everyone else does, but I’m not like everyone else.”
Well, that’s for damn sure.
“I know I’m the right man for you, but I had to make sure you were the right woman for me. I had to make sure you were—”
“The One,” I say, and he takes a deep, delighted breath.
He ducks his head in that self-effacing bow I thought was endearing.
He’s so proud of me for acing this messed-up test he’s put together, but I can’t feel too much satisfaction I was right.
Not with the sharp, cold, realization that the guy who asked me if I liked scary movies decided to put me right in the middle of one.
“I knew you’d get it.” The rueful shake of his head makes me want to throw up. “I knew you would understand.”
“I don’t.” I don’t understand at all. I don’t see how you go from seeing someone across the room and thinking they’re the One to murdering everyone else in it. “All those people—Curtis and—”
“He was a piece of work.” He clicks his tongue.
“Remember how I told you I plan things out? I always do, Jamie, but as soon as I saw you, I knew you were worth changing the plan for. Curtis was—men like that don’t know how to treat women.
I know you can hold your own, but when I saw you arguing I saw red.
I had to put him in his place. Billie was pissed when I told her I didn’t want to wait until the last date.
” He chuckles like the chain of events that followed are not going to haunt me for the rest of my life, like his whole justification for what he’s done isn’t completely batshit insane.
“Once she made sure the host wouldn’t get in the way, she had to sprint to lock the front door and hide the phones and make sure that girl in the coat check wouldn’t stop what was meant to happen. You can’t fight fate.”
But according to him you can manufacture it, because everything that has happened has been by his design. There is nothing predestined about this.
“I knew if we just had this time together, if I showed you who I am and showed you what I would do for you, that you’d see I’m the man for you.
You deserve to be pursued, you know? You deserve to be shown that you are wanted, that someone—that I—will do whatever it takes so you know nothing can come between us.
And I deserve someone who will fight to the end, someone who will fight to be with me. ”
When I don’t say anything, when I can’t, he says, “Look, I know it’s been a long night, but we can get that drink now, okay? We can—”
I’m shaking my head before I can catch myself.
It’s a pure, primal reaction to the disgust that flows through me when he suggests we can just go clink glasses after this.
He thinks people will ask us how we got together and we’ll say, “Well, it’s a funny story…
” But my body’s decided it’s reached its limit of being in the presence of a delusional, bloodthirsty murderer.
I press my back into the wall, ignore how the movement causes the cuts and bruises on my arms to throb, and cast a quick glance to the only exit option I have.
The one that rarely leads to anything good. Back the way I came.
“Jamie?”
He sounds worried. Which is ironic, considering he’s the biggest threat I’ve ever faced and he has me cornered.
But I don’t think he sees it that way. He thinks this is intimate.
It has all the markers of a clandestine meeting between two lovers rather than what it actually is: he’s a predator, and I’m his prey.
So I use that to my advantage, swallow the fear, look up at him with wide eyes, and go into Leading Lady mode.
“This is a lot to process. No one’s ever—” I cut myself off, letting out a shaky breath that sounds like I’m overwhelmed by emotion. Really, I just want to even out my breathing before I try to make a run for it. “I think I just need a little space.”
He steps back immediately—he is a gentleman after all—and directs an indulgent smile at me when I straighten off the wall and brace my feet in the plush carpet.
It’s like he was prepared for a rebuttal.
He knows during the first big speech the girl will always try to argue that we’re too different or our families won’t approve or society won’t allow it, and that’s why he starts his second appeal.
“Jamie, I can tell you’ve been hurt before, and you feel like you have to hold back, but I’m not like those other guys.”
Oh my god, this is why you need more than a ten-minute date with someone to know they aren’t absolutely insane.
“I’m all in for this. For us. You belong to me.”
That captures my attention.
“You—you wrote that in the card. You left it in the room after you…” Gutted another human.
The memory makes him smile, like I’m recalling a quirk from a first date that’s going to star in our “how we met” anecdote. “The Police. ‘Every Breath You Take.’ ”
Oh. Of course. It’s a certified stalker anthem.
“We thought it was Taylor Swift.”
It’s not a very pertinent comment, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it, and it just makes his smile turn placating as he moves closer to kiss me again.
“I admit, I don’t listen to too much of her music, but I will for you. There’s no limit to what I’ll do for you, Jamie. You’re my dream come true.”
He wants to end his romantic musings on just the right note before the film fades to black.
I’ve been in this kind of situation before.
In this very club, in fact. Backed up against a wall by a guy who thinks persistence makes the heart grow fonder, and if it were as simple as that, I’d do exactly what I would’ve done back then and shove him out of my face.
Choose violence. But I have no weapon to be violent with.
Even if John didn’t have the advantage of being, you know, a murderer, he is physically larger and stronger that I am.
He could go mano a mano with any of the Big Bads, and even if I try to push him away, I don’t think he’d budge.
I can’t go on the attack yet, not when the only reason I’m standing here now is because he thinks I’m going to stop playing hard to get and give into my feelings.
So I wait until his eyes are fully closed, his eyelashes splayed against his skin, his defenses are down, and then, for what might be the thousandth time tonight, I run.