Truth is, she’s been through enough messes with possessive guys that paranoia comes easily. And maybe she’s jumping shadows. But maybe she’s not.
She exhales, shoulders softening now that she’s offloaded the fear. “Okay, I’ll leave it in your obsessively loyal hands,” shelaughs. “And while you’re on justice duty—can you tell Adam to go fuck himself? He left you. So why he feels the need to keep blowing up your phone like some sad little emo ex is beyond me.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, if I could text ‘fuck off’ with a brick, I would.”
He didn’t just leave me though. He cheated. He slept with his cousin’s wife at their fuckingwedding. Thankfully I wasn’t there to witness it, but his cousin was. Hence how I found out. Turns out he has a thing for keeping it in the family.
Dick.
“Yeah, I think he’s just bitter that I kicked him out. I think he thought I’d accept his apology. Anyway, I’m not handing Boomerang over to him, so he’s going to fight me for that either way.”
“Dickhead,” we both say in unison.
Darcy and I are in sync. We finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s thoughts, and can spot a bad vibe across the bar with one look.
She’s magnetic tonight, catching the eye of more than a few men. One lingers longer than the rest, and before I can blink, she’s invited him to join us.
And then she wonders why she ends up with stalkers.
Still, I can’t blame her. If I had half her confidence, I’d be doing the same—bold, effortless, reckless flirting like it’s second nature.
Me? I haven’t touched anyone since Adam. And if we’re being honest, I’m starting to believe I never will.
He didn’t just hurt me. He scraped out every ounce of self-worth I had and left me hollow. I’m not saying that to collect pity points—I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I’m just a little cracked. A little off. Still trying to find my footing.
I’m also well-practiced in the art of third-wheeling now. So while Darcy and her new admirer laugh into their drinks, I nurse my bottle like it’s a lifeline, mentally sketching out ways to catch her alleged stalker.
Because if I don’t give myself something to fixate on, something to chase… I’ll spiral.
It’s good to have a hobby, right?
“We’re heading to mine, babe. You want us to walk you?”
Darcy’s voice is warm, but there’s something expectant in her eyes—a soft concern swimming beneath those deep brown irises.
I wave it off. I only live around the corner.
No need for a chaperone.
“No, you two go ahead. I’m just gonna finish this and head home.”
She flashes me a grateful smile and links fingers with tonight’s choice—a painfully average man who’ll probably forget her name by sunrise.
I know it’s catty, but I’ve met enough of her temporary obsessions to start mentally scoring them now. And this one? Flat six, at best.
I give them some space, then follow a few paces behind, blending into the city noise.
Not stalking, exactly—just… tailing.
I tell myself it’s about Darcy’s safety.
A little extra insurance.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll spot her mystery follower. The one she’s convinced is trailing her.
Boomerang won’t starve if I take a few extra minutes. And I could use the distraction.
The streets are loud—clusters of work friends huddled around bar entrances, cigarette smoke curling into the night air. Laughter, shouting, glass clinking. A Friday soundtrack.
