“Good,” the man says. “I told you I’d be here, and I don’t plan on leaving without you.”
“Security,” Melanie says into her headset, too quietly for the mic to catch.
But the man doesn’t flinch, instead he adds, “You write about heartbreak and healing, but healing only happens when the wound is exposed. You exposed something in me, and now it’s your turn. Don’t you want to be seen instead of being the one that sees others?”
I can’t move. Can’t breathe.
“I think we’re done here,” Evan says firmly. His voice has dropped an octave. It’s not performative anymore.
And that’s when the man smiles.
Not wide. Just enough.
“Good luck, because I’m not done,” he whispers before he steps away from the microphone.
There’s a line behind him, and I watch as his bright-blue shirt weaves through the other people, but my vision seems blurry, and I feel woozy. Like I’m going to…Oh no.
Suddenly, I feel strong arms catch me as I slump out of my chair. It seems that some kinds of confidence can only keep you conscious for so long until doubts and nerves catch up with you.
As my eyes flutter shut, all I see is Evan, and he’s looking at me with something that I can only describe as concern before I hear him say, “I won’t let him hurt you.”
And I have to admit, I’m a little confused, because I thought Evan would be the one who hurt me, not the one who wouldprotect me. But since I’m not exactly able to function at the moment…he’ll have to do.
I also have to admit that this stage experience is much more terrifying than passing out and revealingSassy Pantswritten across my rear end.
I kind of miss my old underwear.
Chapter 16
Evan
Whatjusthappenedisnot okay, and I’m not referring to the bantering on stage with Rachel. When that creep walked up to the mic, the hair on my neck had instantly stood rigid, adrenaline beginning to pump through my veins before my mind caught up to what was happening.
The words he spoke felt like a threat.
“I don’t plan on leaving without you.”
And…
“I’m not done.”
It’s the first time I realized the potential for disaster with Rachel revealing her identity. I’ve been so caught up in her taking the spotlight on my book tour that I forgot what the spotlight could mean. It’s a darkness that slips in with the fluorescent glow. The realization that people try to define you in their own little boxes and write their own fantasies with you as the main character in it.
And the spotlight not only brings all your own insecurities to the surface, but it shines a light on the insecurities of the ones you love the most. Sometimes it’s too much for them. Sometimes they leave you, and then there’s Lily.
The first time I had a stalker, Lily freaked out more than me. She took nine self-defense classes and signed up for not only karate, butCrossFit. She said,“Those skinny little gold diggers will meet their worst nightmare if they dare to mess with you.”
Lily wasn’t lying. She’s handcuffed six women, punched three, and now has a black belt.
I don’t worry about Lily. I worry about the people that meet Lily. I’m positive she would have jumped off that stage today and had that man in a headlock in less than two seconds.
But Rachel…
She doesn’t seem like the kind that keeps ninja skills and handcuffs in her back pocket. She seems like the kind that carries a compliment and a tissue in case you need a good cry or a hug from her words. Except she won’t give those to me. She hates me.
But whether she hates me or not, I can’t allow something terrible to happen to her.
I’ve read her fanfiction. I know how it can make you feel things you’ve forgotten to feel, or maybe don’t want to. That man, he’d read too much into her words. Maybe he felt that she saw him, but he didn’t see her at all.
