We’re three beers deep, and around me expressing my distaste for Adam and his schemes to make me miserable, Darcy has barely said a word.
Strange.
She’s usually the chatty one.
“What’s up with you?” I swig back the beer, eyeing her suspiciously. She chews her cheek for a moment before finding her words.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously? How long have I known you, Darcy? I know when you’re on edge. So, spill it.”
With her it could be anything. Accidental pregnancy. Maybe she caught an STD from the guy she met last week. The possibilities are endless.
“I think I have a stalker.”
Well,thatwasn’t on my bingo card for tonight.
I blink at her, words stalled on my tongue.
“What makes you think that?”
“I swear there’s this guy who’s been following me. I’ve seen him nearly every day for two weeks—same streets, same timing, always behind me.”
“What does he look like?”
“That’s the problem.” She leans in, voice dropping like we’re already being watched. “I don’t know. He always wears a hoodie. I can never see his face.”
“Then how do you know it’s the same guy?”
“He has hand tattoos. Big ones. Same height, same build… I promise, I’m not going crazy. Or maybe I am.” She tips her head back and drinks like the bottle’s her anchor.
“Just when you’re walking home?”
“Well… not exactly.” She winces. “You’re gonna laugh. But I was Googling ‘what to do if you have a stalker’ the other night, and I must’ve passed out—and when I woke up, my laptop history was wiped clean.”
Okay,that’seerie.
“Babe, that could’ve just been you mashing keys in your sleep.” I raise both hands and place one over my heart like I’m swearing an oath. “But as your most dramatic and devoted best friend, I hereby vow to solve your creepy mystery. No creep is going to make you feel unsafe. Period.”
She smirks, like I’m joking.
But I’m not.
My life is about as shit as it can get right now, I need something to channel my energy into. And a little light stalking might just scratch the itch.
Plus, it’s exciting. For me, not for her. I feel like a detective already.
“You’re hilarious,” she scoffs, focusing back into the neck of her beer.
“I’m not messing around,” I say, eyes locked on hers. “If there’s some creep following you, I swear I’ll find him and drag his sorry ass into the daylight.”
Okay… maybe the dramatic delivery and borderline sarcastic tone didn’t scream ‘credible investigator,’ but I’m deadly serious. No one messes with my best friend and walks away unscathed.
She shoots me a sceptical look. “I don’t know how you plan on doing that, but knock yourself out. If you can get a face, at least I can take it to the police.”
Challenge accepted.
“I’ll find him,” I say confidently, brushing off the doubt. “You forget I have excellent stalking instincts. Just ethically reversed.”
