Leo DuvalisBlake.
Blake is Leo Duval.
And he’s playing his part so beautifully.
It guts me that it’s the borderline suggestive photos on my Leo-specific profile that caught his attention. Not the real me.
I’ve spenthoursupon hours posing in front of my camera for the two Duvals—and to pay rent. The only thing that’s eased the burn is knowing that he doesn’t follow many—if any—women. But Leo followedme.Leo likedmyphotos. Not theirs.Mine.
We’ve been messaging nonstop, and he hasn’t once made a comment about my body or sexualized me like his friends did. Each text is making it harder to imagine that this might be the same person who dragged my name through the dirt for his buddies’ entertainment.
Pain shoots through my stomach, and I just about fold in half, whimpering. Of all the days for Aunt Flo to visit, she decided today was it.
I force myself to ignore the hurt and focus on moving my trembling fingers over the screen. Leo is and always will be the perfect distraction.
Mina: I’d happily die trying to pet a bear. It will sense my immaculate vibes and won’t try to harm me. Death would be worth it either way.
Leo: I’m going to pretend you didn’t just confess to being a risk to yourself. My concern for your general ability to keep yourself safe on a day to day basis already keeps me up at night.
My cheeks heat. Leo thinks about me before he goes to sleep.
Mina: The only thing I’m currently at risk of is being down for first degree murder. This one asshole has been getting on my last nerve lately.
Jack.
Jack has been testing my patience. I’m seriously considering beating him to death with a hockey stick. I thought Brad, who bullied me back in high school, was the most annoying piece of shit I’ve ever met. It turns out Jack wins that position by a mile.
I’ve deep dived into his life almost as thoroughly as I did Leo’s, and they’re shockingly... similar. Not that they’re the same person, but their lives are a copy and paste of each other; from living in the same cities, to posting pictures at the same place—but at a different point in time.
It’s weird. He might be bugging me a lot less frequently, but he’s theonlyone of Leo’s friends who hasn’t moved on with his life.
Besides me, of course.
Leo: I’m an exceptional gravedigger. I don’t slack off when it comes to upper body.
Just as I receive the message, movement outside snatches my attention. It’s hard to see clearly through the downpour, but there’s no mistaking the outline of Leo’s body in the gloomy afternoon light.
For the past month and a half, it’s been on my to-do list to buy a pair of binoculars. They are necessary for any stalker’s starter kit. I’ve either been camped out in front of his house or the ice rink almost every day in the hopes of getting just a glimpse of him—to put a real face behind the man on the other side of the screen.
I wish I could get close enough to study every pore and every angle of Leo’s face, the way the colors swirl in his irises, the shadows along his cheek that a lens doesn’t capture. Except every time I watch him from afar, all I can think about is what might happen if he recognizes me as Mina, and not Jas. He could run, or I could be reliving that night all over again.
Neither scenario is an option.
I need more time to wipe the slate clean before I approach him. For now, all I can do is keep pretending to be the girl who lives in a different state and will never cross paths with him.
Slowly, I let out a terse breath through gritted teeth as the pain in my stomach multiplies. My uterus has tried to kill me at least once a month, every year since I was fourteen, and painkillers barely do anything—I’ve tried them all. But no way in Hell will I let it stop me from carrying on with my life.
I had surgery years ago to remove the endometriosis, but the fucker has grown back, and I don’t have the budget to get an “elective surgery.” I’d go back under the knife if I could afford it.
Leo locks the door behind him before jogging down the stairs, duffle bag in hand. In recent weeks, he’s started parking his car in the driveway instead of in the garage, which doesn’t make sense since the weather has been utter dog shit lately.
But I’m not complaining; it means I get to see him for a couple seconds a day.
And leave a tracker on his car.
Mina: From where I’m sitting, I’d say it wouldn’t hurt if you worked on your upper body a little more. For grave digging purposes, of course.
And send proof of the workout afterward,I think.
