“I’m good.Really.” I said the same thing to my mom when she told me she was dating again, and I meant it then too. Now she’s happier than ever with a pediatrician seven years younger than her. “Dr. Santiago is great for her. Seriously, you should see this guy. He looks like he walked off the set ofGrey’s Anatomyor something.”
“Dude. I don’t know how you’renotfreaked out by that.”
I laugh to myself picturing the full-body shiver he’s probably doing on the other end of the line.
“Is that why you’re dating again? Feeling a little left behind now that your mom is moving on with someone new?” he asks.
The comparison feels a bit too Freudian for my liking, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if Andrew has a point. I’m glad my mom is getting back out there and that she made it a point to only date men who are accepting of queer people. I don’t know how serious she is about Santiago, but asking my father for a divorce is a pretty clear sign that if they’re not fully committed to each other yet, they may certainly be heading in that direction.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I admit. “It’s strange to see mymombe better at online dating than me, for one. But mostly I guess seeing them together reminded me that I haven’t been putting myself out there as much as I should be.” It’s not just my mom who’s found love. It seems like everyone around me has found what I haven’t yet. I should be looking forward, not stuck on a girl I met four years ago and wondering if it’s a sign from the universe that we keep running into each other. “Listen, I’m almost home and I don’t want to hold you up any longer. Have fun with Kayla. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right, if you’re sure,” he says. “But I can blow her off if you ever need a guys’ night. It helps that you’re my only friend she likes.”
“Tell her hi for me,” I say. “See? Stuff like that’s the reason I’m her favorite. Your other friends could learn some valuable lessons from me.”
“I’ll be sure to tell them that,” he says dryly. “Bye.”
After we get off the phone, I feel better about the whole second first date fiasco. I make it back to my apartment thinking I’ll never see Leticia again, but I should’ve known better.
It seems the universe isn’t through with us yet, because she’shere, eyes burning with fury and hellfire as she races across the parking lot and makes her way straight toward me.
6
Leti
I wouldn’t normally call myself a paranoid person, but I’ve been staring at the car behind me through my rearview mirror for seven miles. The same Honda Civic that’s been following me back to my apartment building from the restaurant. The very make and model I saw Julian climb into after we parted ways on the sidewalk.
Holy shit. I’m being stalked.
I didn’t believe it at first, sure that I must be seeing things when I examined his face from behind the wheel at a stoplight. But it was definitely him. His mouth was moving, like maybe he was on the phone, and I tried to calm my breathing by telling myself he could live in the area.
Now I’m frozen with fear in front of my apartment gate, Julian’s vehicle idling right behind me. If I push the button on my keys to open the gate, I’ll be letting him in to my building. Never mind that this whole situation defeats the purpose of living in a gated apartment complex when their systems are this shoddy. All a potential intruder needs is for a resident to let them in. I could circle around and try to lose him on one of the neighborhood streets, but I’m not convinced that’ll be enough if he already came this far.
I’m snapped out of my spiraling thoughts by the sound of a horn blaring. Another car has pulled up behind Julian’s. I heave a sigh and press the clicker on my keychain. Maybe I’m panicking over nothing. Maybe I left my phone behind at the restaurant, and he decided to be a Good Samaritan and follow after me. But as I pass through the gate, I look down at the console where my phone lies and see that’s not the case. Could it have been my wallet that I left behind? Except when I think back, I never pulled it out of my purse. He beat me to the bill before I could.
I’m breathing hard by the time I pull into the first available parking space outside my building. Bella is right upstairs. If this turns ugly, I have her on speed dial. She can call the police if it comes down to it. I watch as the silver Honda pulls into a space directly in front of my building, about a foot from my car.
At this point, I have two options—I can sprint to my building and hope I’m fast enough to lose him, or wait around and see what he does first. The latter is hardly an attractive option, but I’m not exactly known for my speed either. Besides, he’s parked closer to my building than I am. He’ll have plenty of time to intercept me.
My god, it was one shitty date. Nothing that would warrant following me home—as ifanythingcould possibly warrant that. It doesn’t take long for the fear to dissipate and a simmering anger to take its place. I’m hardly thinking in the split second I decide what to do as rage washes over me, speeding my steps as I burst out of my car and rush toward him.
He stops short when he spots me, head swinging back and forth as if wondering where I came from. I halt in my tracks, but only for a second. I wasn’t expecting him to look surprised. More likely he wasn’t expecting a confrontation. This could be part of his act. With that thought, I charge forward before he can gaslight me by asking whatI’mdoing here.
“Are you following me?” There’s no tactful way to ask this question, but I’ve never been one for tact anyway. Why waste time beating around the bush when being direct gets you to the point much faster? It’s the reason I asked him out as soon as I knew I was interested in him. It’s the reason I called off our date the moment I realized we’d already been through this four years ago. One date saved me a talking phase that could’ve lasted for months.
His head whips back. “What?”
“Your car was right behind me the entire way here.” I point a finger at his chest. “It’s not exactly an illogical conclusion. Answer the question.”
“God,no.” He shakes his head hard, nothing short of horrified. “Of course not!”
“Really?” My tone is dripping with disbelief. “Then what thehellare you doing here?” I get in his face, nearly forgetting the danger I’m in. “I mean, what the fuck kind of creep are you? What was your plan, huh? Convince me I’m making a terrible mistake? Tell me I’m being a bitch until I agree to go out with you again?”
“Leticia, Ilivehere.”
He holds up his hands in surrender as I squint at him, not sure whether to believe him. Sensing my disbelief, he points at the parking sticker on the windshield of his car. Sure enough, I’m able to spot my—our—apartment’s familiar blue logo allowing him access to park.
Oh.Oh.
