Details come trickling back in then, things from earlier in the car and at the restaurant.
“How did you know Mr. Jones and Ms. Whittle never go to each other’s apartments?”
Puzzle pieces drop into place like I’m playing mental Tetris.
“When I was having my allergic reaction, I could still hear you,” I say slowly.
Damian gulps and takes a step back.
“You knew the names of my parents. How I call them on Sundays.” I drop Mr. Wiggles to the floor, where he slinks a few feet away and starts licking his paws, looking disinterested.
I’m pacing now. “You knew I talk to my friends on the phone for hours.” I gasp, whirl around, and point at him. Damian shrinks back like I just pulled a gun.
My voice rises. “Wait! How did you know about the peanuts? My allergy? Where I keep my EpiPen?”
Everything clicks into place as reality comes crashing down.
“Oh my god,” I cry out. “Are you stalking me? Are you a stalker? Like a genius-level hackeranda cat nabberandmy landlordanda stalker? Is that who you are?”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Damian and I stand frozen. Just staring at each other.
He moves. “Look, Hannah. I can explain.” Hands up, he approaches me, but I shrink back, suddenly terrified. Of him. Of what this all means.
“Stop!” I tell him, and he does.
“I don’t want to hear it.” I’m pacing again, muttering to myself. “I’m going to have to move. Which really sucks because I love this place.” I wave my hand around, randomly pointing. “Do you know how hard it is in this city to get an east-facing one bedroom with good morning light? Huh? Do you?” My voice rises to a near shriek, but I don’t care. I’m too busy feeling betrayed.
“You don’t have to go anywhere.” His hands are still up, placating.
“Yes,” I insist. “Yes, I do. I have to go somewhere safe.” I glare at him. “Where my cat is safe.”
“You’re safe with me,” he argues. “Mr. Wiggles is safe with me. I’ve taken good care of him for two solid years now.” In a voice so soft I almost miss it, he adds, “I could take good care of you too, Hannah.”
“What?” I stop pacing and stand there with my heart in my throat. My mouth dry. “What did you just say?”
Surer now, Damian pulls himself to his full height, which is quite frankly impressive. My eyes dip to his muscles, his chest, his legs, like they just can’t help themselves.
“I said,” he enunciates slowly, “I can take care of you too.”
He advances a step, and I move back.
“You’re right.” He sets his jaw. “I have been stalking you. Watching you.”
Another step closer, which I match with a backward movement. My heart is hammering now, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear…or something else.
“There’s a camera up there.” He points to the heating vent high on the wall. “And a microphone too.”
I gasp, my hand coming to my chest.
“I watch you every day. Just in here, your living room. Not your bedroom or your bathroom.” Another step. I move back but bump into the wall. There’s nowhere left to run.
Damian keeps coming, his voice low but steady. Strong. “For two years now, I’ve been studying you.” He’s on me now. Close enough to feel the heat of him, the restraint. He picks up a single lock of my hair and winds it through his fingers, his eyes, those intense crystalline blue eyes, never leaving mine. “I’ve learned what you like. What you don’t like.” He brings his lips to my ear, his breath hot, and yet a shiver goes through me. “What you want. What you need.”
My breath hitches at that word. Warmth pools in my core.Need. He says it like he’s completely sure. Totally confident that he can give me what I want.
