The chat bubbles pop up and disappear.
Once, twice… six different times.
Then the screen fades to black in my hand, showing me only my reflection.
No reply.
Pennies…
And the silence that follows in their wake doesn’t leave me feeling fear or anxiety.
It’s anger with a sharp, clean edge to it.
Because if they want me dangerous?
Fine.
I can do dangerous.
The crazed knock comes just as I’m pretending there isn’t a shadow lurking over my shoulder in the apartment that should be empty.
Not the woman in the coffee shop and her vague warnings and-or threats.
Not the silence from the app that feels like someone holding their breath on the other end.
No… I’m pretending that I don’t notice the eyes on my back.
I can’t tell if I feel them watching me through the cameras or if I should search the cabinets and closets for Daniel.
I open the door to Roo’s wild hair and blazing hazel eyes. Her sweatshirt is on backward, expression feral with concern. And I cringe as she pushes me into my apartment and slams the door behind her.
She holds up her phone as if she’s about to beat someone to death with it.
Me.
She wants to beat me with it…
“You weren’t answering my texts.”
“I wasn’t answering anyone’s messages,” I say, stepping aside so she can stomp into the kitchen.
Roo kicks her shoes behind her and tosses her sweatshirt in the general direction of the couch like this is her second home. All the while, her eyes don’t stop scanning me for damage.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyes narrowed when she finds no outward signs of harm.
“No.”
She nods like that’s exactly the answer she expected now that she knows I’m not bleeding or wounded. There is no inquisition into what happened today… There is only Roo ducking into my kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor and two shot glasses.
“Wanna talk about it?” she inquires as she pours me a shot.
“No.”
“You want a distraction?”
“Yes.”
She drinks her hot vodka as she observes me. “Bar or chaos?”
