That someone is targeting me on purpose.
That this isn’t just some random thing.
That I’m being watched.
Followed.
Hunted.
I keep telling myself I’m being dramatic.
I watch too much true crime, read too many dark romance novels where the heroine ends up with the obsessive stalker, and listen to way too many podcasts about women who disappear in broad daylight.
But this?This isn’t fiction.It’s not entertainment.
I can feel it.
Something dangerous is coming.
Still, you can’t live your life in a vacuum.
At least that’s what Ma used to say—usually right before pushing me out the door to socialize when all I wanted was to stay home in my pajamas with a book.
Which is probably why, in a moment of weakness, I said yes when Mary—the first-grade teacher whose classroom is next to mine—begged me to go with her to a Catholic singles speed dating thing.
Tonight.
Hosted right here in the parish basement.
She was so excited I couldn’t say no.
Plus, I figured maybe if I threw the universe a bone, it would ease up on the cosmic horror show.
Besides, supposedly all the guys attending are quality men.Church-attending.Clean-cut.God-fearing.The kind you could bring to a family barbecue.
I highly doubt it, but whatever.Maybe there’ll be free wine.
It’s not like I’m expecting some lightning bolt connection.I’m not even sure I want one.
Not like this.
Not with all of this fear living under my skin like a second pulse.
Not when I can’t shake the feeling that I’m already in someone’s crosshairs.
Not when falling in love feels like the most dangerous thing of all.
Still, I put on lipstick this morning.Just in case.
Because maybe the man I fall in love with won’t be Catholic.
Or clean-cut.
Or expected.
But maybe he’ll show up, anyway.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll be brave enough to let him in.
