I adjusted my binoculars. This wasn’t all in my head. Sometimes I wondered if I just imagined us making eye contact every Tuesday and Thursday evening. But this proved that I wasn’t just daydreaming. My stalker really did stare intently into my eyes twice a week. The only explanation I could think of was that he was stalking me. I didn’t condone stalking. But I really liked the way he stared at me. He made me feel…beautiful.
And honestly, this was the only kind of relationship I trusted myself to be in these days. I got to ogle him from a safe distance so that I’d never repeatthe incident.And he…I don’t know what was in it for him. I was pretty sure he was just madly in love with me.Such a stalker.
I watched as his driver opened the door of his black Rolls Royce Phantom limousine. My stalker glanced once more toward the empty bench.
God, I could watch him like this all day. I took a sip of my smoothie, forgetting for a moment that I’d ordered one with hemp and buckwheat. I started gagging. Why did I keep trying superfoods? Superfoods were the freaking worst.
When I looked back at my stalker, he was staring at me. Holding my binoculars. With smoothie dribbling down my chin. I’d been caught looking every bit the stalker in this situation.
Kill me now.
Stalker Problems - Chapter 2 - Stranger Danger
Tuesday – April 4, 2023
I swore my stalker laughed at me. But it happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure. The next thing I knew he’d climbed into the back seat and his driver had sped off. The limousine drove past me, license plate number B783... Just kidding. I totally didn't have his license plate memorized or anything. Because that would be crazy. And I wasn’t crazy. He was. The guy was nuts.
Such a stalker.
I stared at the car disappearing into traffic as I took another sip of my smoothie. I immediately gagged again, somehow forgetting the disgusting flavors from a few seconds ago.Gross.Trying new things sucked. I threw the smoothie into the dumpster. The sight of it made me shiver.Did I really almost jump in there?
That would have been crazy.
As soon as my stalker’s limo was out of sight, I emerged from my hiding spot. That was a close call. Yes, he’d seen me spying on him. But I’d seen him looking for me. I was already in a good mood. But him missing me? That was the icing on the cake. I smiled to myself. I wanted to dance and jump and sing in the middle of the sidewalk. But if I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for my spin class.
My ex-husband had royally screwed me in the divorce. The stupid cheating asshole had blackmailed me with a sex tape I’d made for him a few years ago. He had only left me with two things in the divorce: enough money to pay three months’ rent in the dingy old apartment we’d gotten when we first moved to New York, and a membership to this stupid spin class right in the center of Manhattan. He’d given it to me two years ago for Christmas. I’d taken it as an insult and never gone. So of course he left it to me as one final jab at my self-confidence.
The joke was on him, though, because I’d been coming here for months, focusing on getting the best damned revenge body in the history of revenge bodies. And I was confident-AF. Most days. I also didn’t mind that coming here gave me an excuse to lurk outside One57 at 8 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that my stalker could get me out of his system. Did I say lurk? I meant casually lounge on a bench. Those biweekly encounters were probably the only thing keeping my stalker sane and preventing him from showing up at my house with a knife or something crazy. That was a scary thought.
Hopefully my stalker was of the sweet variety. Although, I bet he was a beast in the bedroom. He had that look about him.Rawr.I bet he rawred in the bedroom. I pictured him stalking me like a lion on the prowl. Pouncing on me and tangling us up in the sheets. I couldn’t wait to run my fingers through his hair. And feel the scruff on his jaw line. And ask him a million questions about his personal life.
I walked into the locker room. It always felt like I’d accidentally wandered backstage at an Odegaard fashion show. Seriously. Joe had definitely picked out this place specifically to torture me.But I wasn’t fazed. After all, none of these women had the most gorgeous stalker on earth. I did.
I opened my locker and started to change. I ignored the way my jeans tried to rip off my underwear with them because they were so tight. I pretended I didn’t have stretch marks on my ass that grew too fast in college because of the all-you-can-eat buffets. Spoiler alert, I could eat a lot. Because food without hemp was delicious. Luckily for me, a lot of the food went straight to my boobs too.
I snuck a sideways glance at the girl next to me. She had stripped down to her $500 lingerie and was literally measuring her waist. She had a tape measure in one hand as she jotted down the measurements with her other. I shouldn't have looked. But I couldn't help myself. Twenty-two inches. Twenty-two! How was that even possible?
Fine, maybe it bothered me a little to be surrounded by all these supermodels. I pulled my red hair into a messy bun. It wasn’t worth comparing myself to these women though. They were stunning, yes. And me? I just had a smattering of freckles across my nose and a face that made me look like I was forever in high school. But my stalker stared at me like I was sexy. Not cute. Hopefully he’d never accidentally stroll into this room. Because I couldn’t deal with my stalker stalking anyone else.
Maybe he preferred cute little redheads to wine, dine, and cut up into little pieces.God, why am I suddenly picturing my stalker as a serial killer?I needed to stop with my overactive imagination. He just likes to wine and dine and have magnificent sex with redheads. No murder necessary. But what man really preferred redheads?
I was pretty sure the answer was none. Because gingers are weird and people think we don’t have souls. For the record, we do. But I did understand why guys preferred blondes with tanned skin. All the ones I knew were always smiling. It truly seemed like they did have more fun. And there was no doubt about the existence of their souls.
"Hey girl," said someone behind me. A normal person would have turned around and said hi. But I wasn't normal. The thought of a stranger talking to me made my heart rate double. Small talk felt like being waterboarded, and it was only amplified by the fact that small talk at this spin class was mostly about how Yvonne had taken three whole weeks to get back into Instagram shape after having her baby. What a lazy slut, huh?
Please don't be talking to me. Please don't be talking to me,I thought as I buried my head in my locker. I tried to look busy by moving my bag around.
"Ash," said the person.
Not necessarily me. There could be plenty of Ashleys here.
And then they tapped on my shoulder.
Screw my life. I didn’t want to talk about Yvonne’s weight loss when technically I’d been gaining weight over the past few months instead of losing it. I didn’t know how that was happening. I was pretty sure it was because I was gaining muscle. And maybe a little because I refused to stop eating ice cream. What kind of monster gives up ice cream? Although, talking to one of the members of my spin class might be helpful. Because I was really wondering if I should be eating proteinbefore or after my workout. I’d been getting these protein smoothies before coming here and now I was just worried that was exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. Hmm…
“Ash!”
Oh God, I can’t stall anymore.I slowly turned to see which of the supermodels deigned to speak to me. But it wasn't one of them. It was my best friend, Chastity.
