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Out on the road, I head for the bus stop. It’s icy out today. There are already people rushing to work, to the gym, or making their way home from a late night out. I settle on the bench, waiting for the bus, when I can’t stop a shiver racing through me.
Someone is watching me. I’m almost certain. Flicking my gaze around, it’s difficult to tell with so many people around, but I get a distinct feeling I’m not alone. It sounds strange when I think about it, but it’s there—I’m being watched.
I glimpse a dark figure across the road, down a small pathway which leads between two high rise buildings, but the moment I blink and open my eyes again, it’s gone. Perhaps I’m losing my mind. Maybe I’m imagining people who aren’t there.
The bus arrives, and I get on, but I’m still trying to spy if someone was standing there. As we pull out into the traffic, I look down the narrow road, and see it’s empty. I really am going crazy.
Shaking my head, I pop my earbuds in and flick on a playlist, hoping it will distract me. The haunting voice of Echos sings through the small speakers. The familiar song, “Saints” plays as I make my way to work. But even music doesn’t distract me and there’s still a cold gripping me, holding me hostage.
By the time I walk into the coffee shop to start my shift, I’m only a few minutes late. Rushing behind the counter, I fall into the routine of taking orders, making the drinks, and serving the customers already standing in line.
“Hey girl,” my colleague, Sarah, greets when we have a quiet moment. “You look tired,” she tells me something I know.
Shrugging, I sip my own coffee, enjoying the heat of the java. “It’s been a long morning already,” I tell her, causing her to laugh out loud. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Maybe you should ask Darryl for a few days off,” she suggests, and for a moment, I ponder it. I can’t really afford to take too much time off, but perhaps a few days might do me some good.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “Maybe you’re right.” We get busy soon after, and we’re not able to talk again as rush hour starts and we’re lost to the number of orders coming through. I’m handing over a large latte when a deep, gruff voice skitters down my spine.
“Americano, no sugar,” he says, and I glance up to find familiar blue eyes reminding me of an ocean. It’s the stranger from the other day. I’m almost sure it’s him. It was dark when I slammed into him, however those eyes are unmistakable.
“I know you,” I whisper, shock so clear in my voice.
The corner of his mouth quirks infinitesimally, but I see it. The glower he pins me with after though has me practically shrinking away. “I doubt it.” It’s three more words which only confirms the husky gravel in his tone which has the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Luce,” Sarah calls to me, distracting me from the handsome, dangerous looking man before me. “Orders up,” she tells me and slides the large takeaway cup over to the man in question. He turns without another word and leaves the shop, and I’m still staring at the door, looking for him long after he’s gone.
What are the odds of me bumping into the same person twice within days of each other? The city is big, it’s busy, and I hardly ever see the same people I’ve crossed paths with which is exactly why I chose it. Making connections can be dangerous, and I can’t put anyone else in danger.
The dark hoodie he wore reminded me of the figure I saw in the narrow road across the street from the bus stop. But it wouldn’t make sense. Why would he be watching me, or following me?
Unless…
“Are you okay today?” Sarah asks when we settle into a quiet stint before lunch time. Her gaze is filled with worry, and I know I’ve not been myself.
“I have this feeling something bad is about to happen,” I tell her, before looking at the door again. There are no customers lined up, nobody waiting to get into the store, but deep down, I wonder if he is out there watching from afar.
“Aw no, love,” Sarah says as she grips my arm in an affectionate hold. “You need to take some time off. Maybe you need a spa weekend somewhere quiet. The city is clearly getting to you.” I know she’s trying to be nice, but frustration blooms in my gut. I don’t want to be this person, living in fear. It’s the reason I left the States. Knowing my father was so close by and he could find me at the drop of a hat caused me to constantly be on edge.
