Page 31 of XO Karma

He’s not allowed to smell good.

He should smell like sardines, mothballs, and stinky socks. Then, at least if he were near, I could sniff the air and know the psycho was coming.

I try not to breathe through my nose to avoid thinking about him. Hard to do when you’re nearly in his fucking skin suit.

Where is he?

Is he following me?

Should I risk following him now that he knows?

Shaking my head, I force the negative thoughts out, exiting the bathroom before my bubbly brunch besties think I’ve been swallowed by the toilet. The rest of the day will remain purely Aster-free, and I’ll celebrate with a bonfire the moment I’m home. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll toss in those newspapers and be done with this whole thing before I become the next headline.

“I’m worried about you,” Amara says, eating a bite from her ice cream as we stroll along the sidewalk by the bay. My hair is braided down my back, and the wind wisps the strays around, tickling my face.

I throw a hand over my chest. “I’m honored.”

“I’m serious!” She nudges me, and we both can’t help but laugh. “You’ve been extra distant lately. Even when you come to Mocha Muse, you seem less… peppy than usual.”

“I didn’t realize I was the definition of pep.”

“What I mean is, you usually come in looking all determined, and lately you’ve just seemed… distracted.”

This is the hard part about your friends not knowing what you do. You constantly feel like you’re lying or hiding things. But it’s for the best. Deniability in a court room and all that. “Just stuff for work.”

“Well, maybe you should consider doing less of it.”

“I’m here today, aren’t I?” I force a teasing smile.

“Only because I told you if you didn’t, we’d show up at your place with champagne, Sprite, and pancake mix.”

“Not true. I was almost ready when you called.” She cocks a brow. “Okay, fine. I was face down on my bed, imagining what my funeral will look like.”

“Lily…” Her eyes turn sympathetic. “Do you think you should call your therapist?”

“Oh my god, no!” I wave her off, realizing her assumption. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean…” There’s a big bad serial killer on the loose who’s obsessed with me.

“It’s fine.” She takes the last bite of her ice cream. “I know you like your dark humor.”

“That’s true. I⁠—”

“Lily?” a familiar voice says that forces a chill along my spine.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not here.

Not now.

Not with Amara.

He can’t know about my connection with Amara.

I frantically search for an escape route, but given he’s walking directly toward us, our only choice would be jumping into the harbor, and I’m not sure I could explain that one to my unaware friend here.

I force the panic down, secure it in a box, then lock eyes with Aster. He stands before me clad in slacks, a white button-up, and slutty little glasses, looking irritatingly gorgeous.