“Goodbye, Jess,” I murmur, and disconnect.
Hurrying inside Caroline’s, I am shocked to find a line ten deep just to claim my pickup order. Good Lord, I cannot escape the campus that has taken over our little library and surrounding neighborhood. Ridiculously, I’m forced to take a number, as if I haven’t already ordered. With the place bustling, and number three in hand, I claim one of the only open seats and shoot Jack a text:I literally had to take a number to even get our order. The kids are down here, too.
Snickers, here I come, he replies.
I thought you were cutting back on sugar?I ask, reminding him of the theme that was all last month.
His reply:I have no idea what you’re talking about.
My lips curve at the familiar banter of the exchange. Could I be imagining our divide? My phone buzzes with another text, this one from Adam:Headed into a meeting but wanted to tell you that despite a day imagining grand highways and concrete, which, by the way, is the love of my life, you are still on my mind.
I laugh at the cute text and reply back with:It’s nice to know I wiggled my way in between the highways and concrete bridges.
“Three!”
I slide my phone back into my purse and hurry toward the counter. A tall, thin kid with glasses, who seems to be new, greets me, accepting my ticket. “Order for Mia,” I say, reaching in my purse and removing my wallet.
He punches it into the cash register, and I pay by credit card. Jack and I take turns paying for each other and have for years. Technicallyit’s his turn to grab the bill, but I plan to refuse his money. The truth is, there is guilt driving this purchase as well.
“Your order is ready at the end of the counter,” I’m told once my receipt is printed.
Hurrying to the counter, I offer the woman attending customers my order number. She, in turn, hands me my bag, and I’m out of here. Okay, not quite yet. I walk to the counter by the wall and grab forks, napkins, and salt. That’s when I open the bag and toss the items inside and frown at the red writing on the back of what appears to be an extra receipt. Nerves flutter in my belly as I reach for it, straighten it, and read:I like color on you, Mia. New challenge ... wear your hair down tomorrow.
My heart thunders in my chest. Whoever this is knows my name.
Chapter Forty-Two
Games.
It’s all I can do not to whirl around and search the dining room for whoever is leaving me notes, a mix of emotions punching at me—left, right, left, right. I can’t breathe with the impact. I can’t seem to flip through the pages of my mind and decide which emotion wins—the part where I’m flattered and intrigued or the part where I’m terrified of what is really going on here. Do I have a stalker?
Me?
The girl no one even notices?
Adrenaline surges through me. This isn’t funny anymore. This isn’t flattering, either. It’s creepy. I don’t turn around. I don’t scan the tables for familiar faces. I rush to the door, push it open, and all but run outside.What is this?Who would do this? I’m halfway back to the library when I stop dead in my tracks. “Kevin,” I whisper. He’s just trying to be mean. The message on the dating app. The notes. Contacting Jess. Something about me being on that dating app triggered him.
Anger is now the emotion that wins the war inside me—anger is what drives me to reach for my phone and punch in Kevin’s number. The call dives into the dark, dark abyss of the voicemail he never checks. Of course it does, but I’m not ready to just hang up without saying my piece. “Stop whatever game you’re playing,” I snap. “Stop now, or I swear to you, I will go to the police and tell them you are harassing me.”I disconnect, pleased with myself for taking enough control to confront him. That’s growth for me. For that I have to thank Kevin, no matter how much I wish I’d never met the asshole.
With no other option, I rush forward, aware I’ve been away from the library far too long. I’ve just stepped on the library escalator, leaving behind the lobby zoo, whichreally isa zoo of people today, when my phone rings. My heart thunders in my chest. Could Kevin be calling me back? No way. He won’t listen to that message for months, but I want him to listen to it. Don’t I?
The racing of my heart and trembling of my hands says otherwise. I shift my purse around and retrieve my phone. God, it is Kevin. I swallow hard and answer, but he doesn’t give me time to speak, launching into an attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Contacting Jess isnotstalking you. As for the message I sent you, I didn’t want to be rude and tell you this, but I had your profile up, shocked you were even on the app. I accidentally sent the message to you when it was for her. The end. Isn’t that what you like to say?” And that really is the end. He disconnects.
I rotate on the escalator, away from my floor, facing the zoo below, trying to catch my breath before I exit to my floor. Only now I really cannot breathe at all. The man from floor two is still here. He’s sitting at the same table, watching me watching him.
Chapter Forty-Three
It’s an hour later when our floor-three team finally finishes the bagel sandwiches I’d brought back for them. Then, and only then, do Jack and I dare to retreat into the back room to eat our lunch.
I sit across from him at the tiny break room table, eating my bagel sandwich and listening to him talk about a potential knee surgery. I’m present but somehow numb to the moment, in tune with all the chaos of my life right now. Despite this, I am not unengaged with Jack. I am genuinely worried about his health, but with every question I ask him, my mind is cluttered up, secretly racing, charging in one direction and then another.
Kevin showed his true colors, intentionally trying to hurt me.
Does that mean he cared about me more than I thought or less than I ever imagined?
If Kevin isn’t my note writer, who is?
Do I have a stalker?
