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Her taller frame eats up the distance to the sofa faster than mine does. I’m shorter than her by close to four inches. We’re both lean, but I have a few more curves than her from my mom’s side of the family. Where her skin is light, mine is browner. Another hint of my mom’s heritage.
“What’s going on, Nora?” Her question seems simple, but it’s far from it.
Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on, and that’s exactly what I tell her. I want to forget about this crazy person. But mostly, I don’t want to burden the people I love the most with this bullshit.
“I don’t know.”
Her frown only deepens as she turns to face me. Her big brown doe eyes reflect apprehension. A few strands of her chestnut hair have escaped her tight bun. I reach up to smooth them back out of habit.
She stops my movements and takes my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine and pulling our hands into her lap. “Tell me what’s going on? This isn’t the first time, is it?”
The subtle shake of my head produces a look of devastation on her face. I’ve known her long enough to know what’s she’s thinking. She’s wondering why I didn’t tell her. She’s worried, but most of all, she’s scared for me. Over the years, we’ve heard of other dancers gaining stalkers.
Some can be pretty harmless, but the ones who aren’t… I shiver when I think about those stories. Those that end with blood spilled. Stories that can give a person nightmares.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The sadness in her voice forces me to look away from her. My eyes dart around the small room. The lights on the vanity seer my retinas from staring at them for too long. Em gently pulls on my arm, and my head turns toward her.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” I finally answer. There isn’t a good excuse. My answer is mostly the truth, but the other part of it is I’m embarrassed.
It isn’t rational. I’ve done nothing wrong, but I can’t help feeling that way. I’ve tried to shake it off, reason with myself. Every time I went to tell her, I froze. The words refused to leave my mouth. I don’t want anyone to know.
If no one knows, it makes it less real. Less real means less dangerous. It’s stupid, and I know it, but that’s where my head has been since this whole mess started.
The land of denial. Head in the clouds, turning a blind eye.
Whatever you want to call it, I’ve done it over the past few weeks. I’m not proud of it, either. Which makes this even worse when I face my best friend and own up to it all.
“I wanted to tell you.” Her expression suggests she doesn’t believe a word of that, and it triggers me to be defensive in response. “I did! I promise! I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. To say the words out loud.”
“Nora…”
I stand from the couch, dropping her hand from my grasp before pacing the small space in front of her. I inhale as I prepare to say the sentence that I should have said a long time ago. It isn’t fair of me to leave her in the dark. Guilt has already settled deep in my gut for not trusting the one person who has always had my back.
“Well, as I’m sure you might have put together, I have a stalker.”
The confession rushes out of me in a forced breath. The weight of my words crush my chest. This is the first time I’ve said the dirty “S” word to anyone. Speaking it aloud made it just as real as I feared it would, and I feel sick.
Reality just set in… hard.
Chapter 3
SJ
My watch buzzes as I make my way to the baggage claim. The airport is busy and loud, but when I look down to see who’s calling, I know I need to answer.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer after fishing my phone out of my pocket.
“SJ, my boy. Where are you?”
I maneuver around the crowd quickly and finally spot the right carousel. This airport is massive and a pain in the ass to get in and out of.
“I’m at the airport. I picked up a case last night.”
His sigh fills the line as I grab my medium-sized black checkered bag with a bright green ribbon tied around the handle. It made spotting it far easier and faster. With as frequently as I’m in airports, I need something to distinguish my plain black luggage case from all the rest.
Dad’s voice pulls me back to the call. “I was hoping you could come for a visit this weekend.”
