The Stalker: No message.
Followed by the devil horned emoji.
The Stalker: Although, I like the song… it is not my favorite.
I may have learned the hard way thatThe Stalkerwon't text back if I ask two or more repetitive questions. For two days I missed opportunities to get answers, by asking the same repetitive question.
Cindel: Did you kill my manager, Craig?
After numerous “no responses,” I figured out how he works and moved on from the nagging question.
Although my musical stalker didn’t always make sense, I want to know what makes him tick. Why he felt so compelled tonot only follow me all over the city, but hours away as well. Why me? When I think of the masked stranger, my body instinctively reacts. My stomach does somersaults and my panties become wet, just by simply thinking back to how he made my body bend for him in that cramped office. I’ve all but killed the batteries in my vibrator with how often I’ve been using it lately. I know it sounds insane, but I’m drawn to him. Maybe it’s the mystery of the unknown, but I want him. I need to see him. I just hope that once I learn his true identity, these feelings won't change. This morning, I wanted to know one thing. As soon as I woke up, I sentThe Stalkera text.
Cindel: Can I see you today?
It tookhim longer than usual to reply.
The Stalker: Not if I see you first.
Leaning over the bathroom sink, I ready myself for my date with Eamon. I applied a bold burgundy lip and a messyslept-in-lookfor my eyes. With a generous amount of mascara and a velvet ribbon fitted snuggly around my neck, I achieved the 90’s grunge look I was going for. Once I am presentable, I tiptoe out of the bathroom, hoping that Andrea was still MIA…
“You look cute,” my roommate blurts.
As if glued to the spot, I gradually spun in place to face her. “Thanks! Just gonna go to a movie.”
Willing my feet to press forward, I make my way to the door. The room remains quiet as I bend over, pulling on one red converse at a time, before reaching for my messenger bag on the entryway table.
“By yourself?” She watches me from the kitchen, slurping up leftover lo mein noodles, while flipping through one of her magazines about women’s health.
“Mm-hmm.”
She abandons her food and starts to get up. “Lemme grab a coat, I’ll come with!”
I put up my hands, taking a step forward. “No! I want to… I just need some time to myself.” Fuck, now I was lying. I wonder if my fib sounds justified as I finish tying the laces. She’s the one who threatened to involve my parents, all because she’s not happy with my choice in men. Andrea has pushed me to this point.
“Oh... okay.” She sits back down at the table and proceeds to continue flipping one page at a time.
She is my best friend. What is happening to us?
Not looking up from her magazine, she calls out, “YOU have fun, now.” Drawing out the ‘YOU,’ it’s clear she doesn’t believe that I’m going by myself.
No matter. I close and lock the door from the hallway, expelling all the air in my lungs at once. Fuck, did I misinterpret her? Is she actually hurt that I didn’t want her to tag along? I am the world’s worst friend!
Approaching the local cinema, I’m instantly brought back to the days my brother and I would buy a ticket to a “PG” movie, with the intention of hopping from screen to screen, sampling all the vulgarity, violence, and sexual content that “R” ratings had to offer. The best part of this theater was if you simply stated you wanted subtitles for your showing, they obliged. Standingin front of the little run-down theater, with a classic marquee and at least three bulbs burnt out, is Eamon. He wears a long gray, tweed coat with quintessential suede, elbow patches. That is the thing about him… he wears the clothes; they don’t wear him. Everything he dresses his body in is like a second skin. It only makes him look that much more…. MORE! I'd ask if it was vintage, but I had a feeling that it was new and probably cost more than my entire month’s rent.
When he sees me approaching, he throws down his smoke and stamps it out with his shiny shoe.
Brodi had a similar habit and wouldn't quit, no matter how often I pressed the issue. I didn’t mind the smell at the time, I work in a bar after all, but it was the taste of it that bothers me.
Eamon immediately throws an arm around me. “You look like you’re ready to help refuel at the next Formula One race.”
My hand goes to my chest, mouth agape; I back out of his embrace. “I’ll have you know that this is a jumpsuit and it's the epitome of fall fashion!” I can be a bit overzealous at times.
His amused look causes the green of his eyes to sparkle with mischief. Somehow, the sight of him fills in the tiny cracks of my heart, originating from my dishonesty with Andrea.
“Is that so? Well, I hope to see them next season on the runway, during fashion week. Now my interest has piqued! “Have you been?!”
He casually nodded, pushing his fists into his coat pockets. “I’m invited regularly; however, I rarely show.”
