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She frowns. “Who runs just to run? Psychopaths, that’s who.”
“You think he’s crazy?” I whisper as if worried he can hear me.
“Never know.” She yawns. We sit in silence for a while, her drifting in and out of sleep, me staring until I get a small headache.
I can’t pull my eyes away from him. He’s been running for over thirty minutes now. Not at some moderate pace either. He is full-out running like he is chasing after someone. I don’t know how he’s keeping up the pace but he does. He doesn't look winded in the least. His long, thick legs stride easily. The man is built like a brick house, which can’t make running any easier.
I can never get a read on him. His short dark hair and the way he carries himself make me think he’s in the military, but he often dresses in fancy (okay, yes,sexy) suits. Other times he’s in plain black slacks and a button-down shirt. His face is always cleanshaven and serious. Except that one time when Mrs. Winsten caught him at the mailbox--then he was all smiles and shared a few words with the mean old lady. Why does he talk to her?
“Still running?” Kimber opens one eye.
“Yeah. Crazy.”
“Yeah, he’s crazy. Crazy hot.”
I force a frown and throw my phone.
“I’m teasing!” she shouts with a laugh. She can’t even see me, but she knows I’m being pissy.
“I am a stalker,” I admit.Iam the crazy one. The crazy jealous stalker. Not my neighbor. I never should have sent Kimber those pictures I snuck of him when he was checking his mail. It took me forever to get them to begin with. I don’t get many opportunities, because the man doesn’t stand still. His erratic hours have me doing my best just to catch a glimpse of him. I only leave when necessary because I don’t want to miss something good. He makes stalking him really hard. I wish he would get on a regular schedule to make this easier for me. Is that too much to ask?
“You should bite the bullet and go introduce yourself already.” Now she’s the crazy one. I can’t do that. I know myself, I’d probably get nervous and say something stupid likeAre you a hitman or a spy for the CIA?
“You can talk to anyone. Believe in yourself.” She adds a note of worry that I don’t like.
“I talk to people, okay?”
“You talk to babies and toddlers for a few hours, then lock yourself away in that house.”
I sigh, well aware of my weird quirks. “Don’t scold me.”
“Not scolding.” She gentles her tone. “Just reminding you that you got this, all right?”
Chatting with Kimber is easy for me. I could even go places with her. Places where there are other people. One time, I even contemplated going to a movie with her! (No, I didn’t go. Too many people. Yick.) People are scary, especially if they’re in a group. Kimber is different for me somehow. She sets off a side of me that I’ve rarely shown to anyone else. Hell, I’d walked right up to her that first day of kindergarten and declared us best friends. That’s pretty much unheard of for someone like me. But I guess true friends don’t hold back. True friends help you overcome your fears.
So, yeah, I can talk to Kimber, but this situation is completely different. I don’t just go and talk to strangers. The idea makes my skin go all crawly. But the creepiness goes away when I think about the man next door. My fascination with him has turned into this weird crush, and I’ve made up these little stories about him in my mind. I spend far too much time fantasizing about the different lives I think he leads. If I told Kimber all the things I imagine, she’d probably fly back here and escort me to a padded room.
I scream when something brushes against my leg, then jump, almost busting my ass on the tile again.
“What is it?” Kimber sits up.
“A huge, hairy spider!” I scurry to the door and flip on the light. “Fangs and venom!”
“It’s Jinx,” Kimber says in a monotone as light floods the bathroom. “Not a tarantula.”
I look down at my cat as he winds around the toilet. I inherited him with the house. He doesn't like me, and I’m pretty sure he scares me on purpose. I put my hand over my racing heart.
I pick up my phone. “That cat hates me!”
Kimber fights a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”
He’s such a weird animal. He wants to be around me, but I’m not allowed to pet or touch him. If I try, he usually gives me the dirtiest look before trotting off.
“He probably just got your ass all busted again,” Kimber says and snuggles back into her pillow.
“I didn't fall this time.” I raise my chin smugly.
“I meant by Mr. Hotness next door.”
