Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Acar horn startles me, and I realize my blinds are still open.
Hastily, I snatch the rod, twisting them closed.
I clutch my cami top to my chest and lift one of the wood slats to peer outside.
It’s dark. The corner light on the garage is out again.
It keeps blowing the bulb. Roxy and I keep trying different bulbs, but have yet to find the right one.
Despite the darkness, I gasp, because there, tumbling out of my bushes, is a tall, man-sized shadow. It scrambles away on foot as fast as it can. I take a step away from the window, blinking in disbelief. Was someone just in my bushes?
My hands are shaking as I try to decide whether or not to text Roxy.
She’s probably crashed for the night. We spent the day in the pool, relaxing before our big trip next week.
It’s always nice to mentally prepare for a tour appearance.
I take a deep breath. I’ll wait until morning, and if we get the police involved, then I’m sure someone’s cameras caught something.
No sense in worrying about it now. The car horn spooked them, and they probably won’t come back tonight.
Still, I should check all the ground-level windows and the doors, just to be cautious.
My phone chimes. It’s probably Roxy. The universe always does that when I need her, it seems like. I grab it from where I tossed it on the bed earlier. But the number is—the same one that said they were my stalker.
Suddenly, my mouth feels dry, and there’s a giant lump of sand that won’t go away no matter how hard I try to swallow.
The room spins as my heart rate spikes. I can hear it pounding in my ears, as my pulse races to the beat.
Who would be creeping around in the bushes?
Could it be Jackson—would he get that desperate?
What if it’s a creep stalking me? I’ve never had a stalker before.
People in the industry are usually respectful.
My mind is racing, but I know one thing for sure: I’m getting a security system ASAP.
I steady myself. The person is gone, and everything is going to be okay. There’s no reason to wake Roxy…not yet. Not unless things get exponentially worse than they are right now. Forcing myself to read the text I open it.
Stalker: Hello Vivienne. Do you know who this is?
Me: Leave me alone. You have the wrong number.
Stalker: I assure you, I do not have the wrong number.
I don’t text back. Instead, I walk briskly to the hallway and head downstairs. I’m definitely checking all the doors first, then the windows. When I finish I check my messages again.
Stalker: It was nice to see you today.
Me: I want you to leave me alone.
Stalker: No you don’t. Why don’t you try guessing who this is?
Me: No.
Stalker: Come on, Vivienne. Let’s play a guessing game. I’ll give you three tries.
Me: I’m not playing, just tell me who this is before I call the cops.
Stalker: Don’t do that. Here’s your first hint: I’ve been stalking you.
Me: That’s not fair. It doesn’t count, I already knew that.
Stalker: I never said I’d play fair.
Me: Give me another hint.
Stalker: I stopped by your house.
Me: So you were in my bushes?
Stalker: No
Me: Tell me why you were at my house.
Stalker: Checking on you.
Me: Tell me who this is!
Stalker: You haven’t even tried to guess.
Me: Give me my last hint.
My stalker sends a photo of himself. It’s dark, but it looks like he’s in a car.
His hand is blocking most of his face, and it almost looks like they’re wearing a mask.
My heart skips a beat. Could it actually be the rockstar?
It feels too good to be true. I thought that ship sailed a while ago, and I blew my chance with him.
But what if it’s Jackson, and I guess wrong? It’s not Jackson, I tell myself.
Me: Cas?
Stalker: Be ready tomorrow at five.
I shouldn’t be agreeing to this. It feels like I’m setting myself up to be let down.
Why am I even texting this number? I should be scared.
I should’ve blocked them the first time.
A quiet voice whispers, but what if it’s really just Cas and you’re totally just freaking yourself out?
It’s right—what if it is Cas? I can’t fuck this up twice.
Me: We’ll see.
Stalker: We sure will. Good night, Vivienne.
This time, I don’t text back. Part of me is still worried it could be Jackson.
He didn’t confirm or deny my guess. As much as I want it to be Cas, maybe I should still have Roxy come over to help me get ready…
just in case it’s not him. This should scare me far more than it does.
Or maybe it does, and I’m just not willing to admit it to myself.
I crawl into bed, mentally exhausted, ready for sleep—but it doesn’t come. Every noise jostles me awake, and it’s well after two in the morning before I finally fall into an exhausted, deep sleep.