Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Well, color me surprised, Fefe.” She nibbles the tip of my index finger before burrowing back under my duvet.
Me: A heads up would’ve been nice, but I get there were extenuating circumstances.
Officer Jackass: So… you forgive me?
Me: I guess so.
Officer Jackass: Great. Now, let’s talk about why you lied.
Me: WTF?! I didn’t lie.
Officer Jackass: You sure did. You promised to tell me about any and all developments with your stalker, and your reaction when Nora asked made it obvious you haven’t been.
My shoulders slump under the weight of his accusation. He’s right. I have gotten a few more notes, but they’ve all been relatively benign. I also found flowers on my windshield again and had my lunch paid for. Nothing worth bothering him over.
Me: It wasn’t anything serious. Promise.
Officer Jackass: I swear to god, Scarlet.
Me: Gotta go. Byeeee.
I close out of our text thread and set my phone on the bed screen down. It buzzes a few more times, but I ignore it. After what feels like an eternity, I settle on my comfiest distressed jean shorts paired with a black bra and a black mesh long-sleeved top. It’s the perfect blend of comfy and cool. Exactly what I need tonight.
“Boots or sandals?” I ask Fefe, holding up each option. Boots are my go to, but sometimes a girl needs to change things up.
She peeks up at me from beneath the covers and wiggles her little pink nose.
“You’re right. Boots.” I tug them on and then scoop Fefe into my arms. “Your palace awaits you, cutie pie.”
I place her inside of her enclosure, and she hightails it up the ramp to her hammock. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, ’kay?”
I fluff my hair, swipe some gloss over my lips, before grabbing my crossbody and heading for the door. Only when I open it, there’s… a bag of takeout containers sitting on my stoop.
Did they get the wrong unit? I wonder, as I bend to inspect the package.
My stomach rumbles with the logo of my favorite Mexican restaurant, Fortuna, comes into view. “Oh, how I wish you were mine.”
It’s then I notice the note taped to the top with my name on it.
“What the fuck?” I scan the parking lot, but it’s business as usual. I freeze—but only for a moment—before grabbing the bag and hustling back inside.
“Maybe it’s for another Scarlet?” The excuse is flimsier than my mesh top.
Like a Band-Aid, I think as I tear open the envelope.
You’ve been so busy this week, I think a night in will do you good, Petal.
Why don’t you trade your boots for slippers and cozy up on the couch with these tacos? I made sure they made them just the way you like—grilled chicken with extra chicken, no lettuce, and a double order of guac.
I’m sure it’s delicious, but I bet it’d taste even better off your lips. I look forward to the day I find out, to when nights in are spent cuddled up, just the two of us.
Mark my words, Petal, you may not know who I am just yet, but I know who you are, because you were meant for me.
-Your Sweetheart
“What the fuck?” I whisper into the suddenly too-quiet space. Sweat gathers along my hairline, and tears bead along my lashes.
The room spins, and I dry heave, my heart thundering in my chest like a whole herd of spooked horses.
I stumble to the front door to lock it before forcing my trembling hands to pull the curtains shut.
“What the fuck?” My entire vocabulary’s been reduced to those three words, because, honestly what the fuck?
Who is sending these notes? How do they know what I eat? How do they know where I live? What I’m wearing? Why is this happening to me?
Question after questions races through my mind, as I read the note over and over again.
Without thinking, I grab my phone and dial the first person I can think of. Thankfully, he answers on the first ring. “Decided to call and make me apologize out loud?”
“Ellis,” I whimper his name, too terrified to worry about how weak I sound.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, his voice harder than I’ve ever heard it.
“I…” My voice cracks as I try to force the words out.
“You what? You’re freaking me out.”
“I got another note.” I swallow roughly and swipe at the stupid tears ruining my makeup.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Tell me more.”
I fold the paper into fours and shove it into my back pocket. “I was heading out to The Creek but there was a bag from Fortuna’s on my porch with a note taped to it.”
A broken sob slips out, and I try to cover it with a cough. “He… he knows my order. He knows my week has been crazy busy. He knows what I’m wearing. He knows where I live. Ellis, how does he know all this? It’s... it’s like he’s watching me twenty-four-seven.”