“Hey,” she said quietly. They had not talked about how she had kissed him.It had just been a friendly peck. Nothing to get worked up about.Her runner’s high dissipated like mist on a hot summer day.
“Hey.” He was definitely not himself. He danced on the tips of his toes like he was being chased by a horde of angry crows.He treated his phone, which previously had seemed surgically attached to his hand, as if it was going to give him herpes.
She leaned against the check-in desk across from him. “What’s going on?”
Patrick hesitated, then ran his hands through his hair. He tousled it adorably, though she had a feeling that wasn’t his intention. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you with this. I know you’re dealing with a lot. I’m sorry.”
As if she could not feel more selfish. “Patrick.” Anita moved toward him and placed a friendly hand on his arm. He felt so good, so like home. “I want to hear everything going on with you. You’re always there for me. We’re friends, right?”
Patrick looked at her, a curious expression on his face. She brushed her cheeks with one finger to remove whatever was offending him.Friendwasn’t a four-letter word.
A long moment passed. Anita’s stomach churned. This was her fault somehow. The kiss had been a mistake, the whole partnership had been a mistake.
At length, Patrick broke the standstill.
“Okay. This is going to sound crazy. Someone is trolling me on social media. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but it’s just getting weirder and creepier, and I’m not sure if I should tell the police.” He deflated and sank into a chair, his hands in his hair.
Her breath hitched, but she couldn’t show her relief. He wasn’t mad at her. Not what she had anticipated, to say the least. She sat beside him, trying not to lean into the comfort of his aroma. “Would you show me?”
Patrick looked over at her, his blue eyes dark, cautious. Without a word, he retrieved his phone and then sat beside her. He held the screen of his phone toward her and scrolled through apps with his phone. He finally stopped over a photo.
“Ugh.” She recoiled, then drew closer. It looked like late-night drunk sexting. Not that she had a ton of experience with that. “What even is that?”
“I think it’s a torso with a tattoo of a heart by the belly button,” he responded. “I had the same reaction at first.” He glanced at her face and snickered.
“What?”
“Your reaction to the wordtorso.” He giggled. Giggled. Of course the man giggled at her. “Isn’t your dad a doctor?”
If her dad had his way, she would have been a doctor, too. It wasn’t her fault the sight of blood made her want to vomit. “So what? They just randomly sent you a picture of their creepy tat?” It was a lopsided heart, too. That was rough. Someone had pissed off the artist.
That stopped the giggling at least. The phone engrossed his attention again. “It started with weird messages full of suggestive emojis from burner accounts. I thought it was some internet troll playing a prank. But now there are these photos, and the messages have gotten darker and creepier.” He showed her the words preceding the heart tattoo picture.
You’re Mine, Now and Always.
Oh, for Heaven’s sake. A lopsided tattoo and an uninspired creepazoid greeting card.
“Classy,” Anita said, her voice dry. “What other sorts of things have they been saying? Are they going to send you a pony for Christmas?”
Patrick grimaced, and a flush swept up his neck. “It’s not funny. I’ve seen “Play Misty for Me” three times, and it just does not end well.”
He had a point. She was more familiar with “Swimfan,” but still. She knew well the mind-fuck of unwanted attention.
“Patrick—” Even after seeing his evidence, she could not shake a nagging tension in her shoulders. The words crowdedthemselves inside her, begging for release. She just had to open the floodgate. “It’s not just you.”
His gaze found hers. It was hot and so intense she simultaneously wanted to lean into it and run as far as she could. She could roast a marshmallow in that heat.
“What are you talking about?” His voice was low, dark. She shivered.
“You remember the mirror with the lipstick? Well, that wasn’t the first thing that happened.” She told him about the letter, the car that had followed her home from her parents’ house the week prior. His face grew darker, more pensive. She withdrew farther into herself. She should have dealt with it on her own.
He tapped his phone against his leg. “You don’t think these incidents could all be related, do you? What are the odds there is more than one stalker in Lewis, Pennsylvania?”
Anita shrugged. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She missed his dimple, the little trio of fine lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled.
Now he just had a look of determination, a soldier about to head into battle. “We should call the police.”
“Can they do anything?”
