“Oooh la la.” She tucks her knees to her chest with a wide grin.
Her glowing happiness reminds me that I never told Liza this whole thing is a sham. Guilt pinches the edges of my stomach like a humble pie in the making. I usually tell Liza everything. She must see the worry on my face, because hers soon mirrors mine.
“What’s going on?” Her sigh of disappointment is palpable. “I thought you were finally going to be happy.”
For some reason, her choice of words rubs me like sandpaper. Perhaps they sound too much like Mom, or maybe my feelings are too tied up in knots. Either way, I can’t quite bring myself to fess up.
“I am happy,” I insist. “It’s just that Brandon only gave me forty-five minutes before I’m supposed to meet him, and I don’t know what to wear.”
Liza brightens instantly. “Come on. I’ve got just the thing.”
In no time, I’m standing in front of the entryway mirror wearing Liza’s latest purchase—a high-waisted pleated miniskirt. Paired with my thigh high black boots, bodysuit, and a loose black cardigan, I lookcasual enough for a day date, but fancy enough to make knots twist in my stomach.
Do I want Brandon to see that I put in extra effort for him?Nothingabout the way I look says platonic friend.
“Don’t get weird, Kate. You look fantastic. Plus, he’s yourboyfriend. He’s gonna think you’re sexy no matter what.”
I paste on a smile, threading my arms through my cream overcoat. “Thanks.”
She squeezes me before shoving me toward the door. “Have fun!”
I stumble out the door with a laugh. The door clicks behind me, and I almost crush a cardboard box beneath my boot. All amusement vanishes as I pick up the box.
It’s another nondescript delivery, but the unease twisting in my gut already knows who it’s from. I whip my head to survey the area. The community gates are closed, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have glitched earlier. My skin crawls with the thought that Liza and I have both been home all night and all morning. H.Y. stoodhere, in this very spot.
I breathe through my nose for a moment before opening the box.
Piled in the bottom of the box are loose leaf papers of various sizes. I flip the top one over before realizing they aren’t papers at all.
They’re photos.
Of me.
My stomach convulses so hard, I have to breathe through my nose.
A photo of me in my pink sports bra at the gym. The back of my head as I ascend the museum steps. A twilight soaked photo of me at the Lunar New Year Parade a few nights ago.
A note is scrawled on a jagged piece of paper.
So you never forget how beautiful you are each and every day. - Hopefully Yours
Clutching my pepper spray, I fling myself into my cab and order the driver to “go.”
The cardboard box that will haunt my nightmares watches meleave from where I ditched it behind our front shrubbery. Terror doesn’t begin to describe the vise around my lungs. It’s one thing to suspect you’re being followed but another entirely to see proof.
Proof.
Is it enough to take to the police? I bite my lip, sinking against the backrest. Involving authorities makes it seem like this whole thing is very, terrifyingly real. Doesn’t a perpetrator have to have motive before the police will offer protection? H.Y. is creepy as all hell, but they’ve never threatened to hurt me. If anything, their method of communication seems like a boundary-ignorant crush on steroids.
I relax my grip on my pepper spray. All of this will blow over once H.Y. sees me with Brandon. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
The cab rolls to a stop, and my poor heart skips again as my eyes catch on a leaning figure against the building.
Brandon is sporting a thick hunter green fisherman’s sweater beneath a leather jacket. He smirks at me, glancing up at the cafe awning.
My eyes follow his, and I read the large, emboldened text across the cafe.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words hang under my breath as I step out of the cab. “Roasted?” I shoot Brandon a look, and he laughs. “You wanted to meet atRoasted?”
