I laugh so hard I snort. “Summer, you literally made my day. I’m so excited for you to see my apartment and the town. It’s perfect out here, I really love it and I hope you do too. We can do all the bestie things and—“
“And track down a mystery superhero that will fuck your brains out.”
“Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”
“But I’m right! This is going to be awesome, Theo, and you will thank me in the end. Preferably by hooking me up with anyone you’ve met that might be a carpet muncher, but I’m not opposed to a one-time-only big dick either. Been a long time since I’ve ridden one that isn’t made of silicone, so I’m open to anything to get my kitty stroked.”
“You’re so gross.”
Summer cackles into the phone. “I know, but you love me anyway.”
“I do and I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. Talk soon, babe, gotta hit the sack or else I’ll be worthless at work tomorrow.”
“Ok. Love...” A glint of something shiny catches my eye as I turn the block toward my apartment followed by the deep rumble of what I know for sure is a motorcycle.
Oh my god.
Was that him?
Was my mystery man at my apartment waiting for me but I missed him?
“Love what? Theo?”
I shake my head as I walk up to my door, then smile so damn big at what I see.
There’s another worry stone sitting on my front step, an amber colored one that’s a little bigger than the onyx one that’s now on my keys.
It was him and he left me another gift.
“Love you, Summer. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“What’s going on? Is everything ok? Theo?”
I hang up and then bend over to grab the smooth stone, rub my thumb in the indentation with a most likely idiotic grin.
Maybe, just maybe, stuff like this does actually happen to me.
CHAPTERFOUR
ZAK
What isthe definition of a stalker?
Is it driving past an apartment in a nice part of town late at night because I can’t sleep if I don’t know Blondie is home and safe?
Maybe it’s driving by early in the morning and following her to the coffee shop a couple blocks from her place where she gets her morning caffeine, then goes next door to the vegan bakery and walks out with a big ass pastry box.
Or is it when I tail her on the days she doesn’t go home right away, but instead hits the organic grocery store and high-end pet supply store, then ducks into the antique shop or florist where she usually comes out with another potted plant?
It could possibly be the way I’ve learned her routine by default through an overwhelming need to check on her, the urge to make sure she’s safe and not doing anything reckless like hanging out at biker bars and kissing the pants off felons.
I bet stalkers do all of that and justify it with excuses of safety and protection. They probably even leave little gifts too, like the three worry stones and two dream catchers I’ve left on her doorstep for her to find in the morning.
Yeah, I’m a goddamn stalker now, but I can’t fucking help myself.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Blondie since I left her apartment, and while most of that is because she is hands down the prettiest, most gorgeous, unknowingly sexy woman I have ever met, the rest is because she is a grade A klutz.
