While Louie finishes her food, I head to my bedroom and change into a pair of loose flannel pajama bottoms and my favorite sweatshirt. It belonged to my mother, who bought it during a trip to Las Vegas when I was in middle school.
I remember her huge, dark eyes catching the neon glow, soaking in everything the Strip had to offer. I’ve worn it so much since she passed that it’s practically threadbare.
Once I’m dressed and done smearing things on my face in the name of self-care, I lead Louie to the front door for her nightly romp.
Since I got home later than usual, I’m hoping she doesn’t stay out too long. Snuggling up with her would be nice after such a weird night. But when I open the door, Louie shies away, plopping herself down with a huff several feet away.
Seriously? Okay, this is even more strange than the food thing.
“What is going on tonight?” I groan, tilting my head back in frustration. “Do you need me to go out with you? Well, come on, ya big dummy.”
I step out onto the front porch, and Louie is immediately at my feet, nearly tripping me.
“Lou, at least go to the bathroom so I can sleep through the night. Please?”
I ruffle the space between her pointed ears again, forcing a smile. She glances up at me, then scans the shadows before vanishing into the woods.
Something about the way she left sits wrong.
I don’t move, watching the trees, half-expecting her to reappear.
But the night stays quiet.
I lean against the porch railing and stare at the stars through the trees. The crisp air is exactly what I need. It’s clearing the fog in my brain, pulling me back to reality.
Really, it all makes sense.
I was overstimulated.
The crowd, the alcohol, the smutty daydream, and my dumbass imagination? Yeah, I’m lucky I didn’t try to make out with the jukebox. Or Flannel and his boyfriend. Or, hell, maybe all three of them.
It’s not the first time. And let’s be real, it won’t be the last.
I sigh, letting the comforting logic settle over me. But just as I begin to relax—believe the lies I’m selling myself—icy fingers of fear dart up my spine, scaring the shit out of me.
I can’t blame a loud bar or my imagination this time.
There’s someone—or something—out there in the woods, using the shadows as cover.
I feel them watching with eyes I can’t see, their gaze dragging over me like teeth on skin.
A violent shiver rolls through me. Something sharp catches at my jaw and fear tightens my throat, locking me in place.
It’s too fucking heavy. Too aware. Too real.
And then—SNAP!My entire body pivots toward the sound before I can think.
It’s probably a deer or a fox or some other animal settling in for the night.
That’s all.
Shit, I’m really honing the art of self-deception.
The pressure of the unseen gaze doesn’t lift. If anything, it grows heavier.
If the perv in the woods wants to watch, fine.
As long as they don’t trespass, they can enjoy the show.
