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After I left that night, I did what I do best—watched. I sat outside, waiting patiently for her to leave. To my surprise, she was alone. In my short time with her, she never mentioned having a man, but from the way she tensed up when Kyla informed her the guys they were waiting on had arrived, I put two and two together. That and the wide grin the one guy gave her told me that he is her boyfriend. Whether it was Josh or Taj, that’s yet to be determined. I didn’t stick around long enough to figure out who either of them was. But I’d bet any amount the one I bumped on the way out was him if the look of disgust on his face was any indication.
It was probably for the best that she left the bar alone, because had he been with her, I would have killed him in front of her. Then my plan would have unraveled before it ever started. And there’s nothing I hate more than a ruined plan—that and knowing some other asshole is spending time with my woman. So, fate aligned, and I didn’t have to murder anyone.
I trailed her closely that night, staying far enough away that she never noticed me on the opposite side of the street. The walk to the small house she shares with Kyla is only a few blocks from campus and the bar. And I know this because I’ve watched her long enough to observe Kyla entering the home with a key of her own.
Along the way, I couldn’t help but notice how skittish Siân was, glancing over her shoulder every so often with her arms wrapped tightly around her frame.
She can thank me for that, too.
My poor topolina, so small and afraid in this big, bad world. The sadist in me loves it. The thought shouldn’t bring a grin to my lips, but it does. The meekness, the constant fear and desire to flee—it’s like music to my soul. If I didn’t have plans for the two of us, I would have chased her down and reminded her of the little games we used to play before I had to leave her.
Instead, I waited until she disappeared into her home and watched for the light to flicker on upstairs. And every day since, I continued to observe. Her bedroom window is within a perfect view from the lamppost across the street. Unfortunately, only her silhouette is visible because she keeps her blinds closed. I wondered just how many neighborhood boys have gotten off to her naked shadow.
She tries to go unnoticed, except when you try that it makes you the most visible. Those who live their lives openly aren’t who people want. It’s the shy type that intrigues people the most. Their reserved personalities speak the loudest. Even if they tiptoed through life, they’d never be able to hide.
Siân’s routine is the same: the coffee shop, school, home, and the occasional night out with Kyla. Rinse and repeat. Safe and boring.
I decided to give her more time and allow her to enjoy what’s left of this pathetic existence she’s chosen. Besides, it gave me the space I needed to figure out everything I could about this new version of her. That time is up now, and today, we start phase two of my plan.
Make her fall in love with me.
And that brings me here—the coffee shop. A place I’d never step foot in otherwise. The flood of voices, the loud buzzing of brewing equipment, people typing away on their computers, and the smells—bitter coffee grounds, spices, and steaming milk. I hate it all. But I’m here because of Siân. She’s the reason for everything.
“What can I get you?” the petite barista asks.
She smiles and runs her gaze along the length of my frame. There’s a gleam in her eyes, one I’m used to. The lust, the need—they’re all the same, blinded by their libido and a handsome face.
“What’s good here?” I question. Not that I care, but appearance is important if I want this to go off without a hitch.
“Well,” she sing-songs, and from my peripheral, I notice her shifting from one foot to the other. “I guess that depends on what you want.” She leans in and pokes her chest in my direction, drawing my attention to the extremely low neckline of her uniform shirt.
Here we are, another girl displaying all the signs that she’s looking to get laid. It would be a lie if I said she didn’t have a nice rack, but I remain unfazed by her blatant attempts. There’s only one woman for me, and she is far from being her.
To move things along, I pick the first thing I see on the menu. “I’ll take a cappuccino.”
She rings up my order, and I pay her in cash, then step out of the way for the person behind me. I nestle into a booth in the far corner. According to the clock on the wall behind the register, Siân will be here any minute now.
