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The bell chimes and I groan. “Are you kidding me? Twenty minutes before we close?”
I turn around to see that same man who’d come in before stepping through the doors. He looks over at me, his face completely blank. Gwen clearly doesn’t recognize him because she calls out, telling him to sit wherever he wants. The moment my eyes meet his, cold goosebumps break out all across my body and my heart begins to race.
“Go get him, tiger,” Gwen says.
Gwen and I have been alternating tables all night and it’s my turn. I give thought to asking her to take this one, but part of me thinks maybe I’m just overreacting and being paranoid. Maybe the guy is just incredibly socially awkward. As he takes a seat, I grab a menu and head over to his table, offering him a small smile as I hand it to him.
“How are we doing tonight?” I ask.
He says nothing. He simply stares at me with those dark, creepy eyes.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll just give you a minute with the menu.”
I turn and hustle away from the table and duck into the side station. Gwen joins me a minute later, looking at me with a curious expression on her face.
“You all right?” she asks.
“It’s that guy. He’s… creeping me out,” I say. “He’s doing the same thing he did the last time he came in—he’s just sitting there staring at me.”
“Oh yeah,” she says, eyebrows drawing together. “I knew he looked familiar.”
“It’s like he’s just watching me or something.”
“Why don’t you go call him out?” Gwen offers.
“Because he might be some psycho freak who’s carrying a chainsaw under his jacket or something. The last thing I want to do is provoke him.”
“Don’t worry, babe. I got your back.”
“Gwen, wait—”
She doesn’t wait. Instead, she makes a beeline for the weird guy’s table and plants herself in front of him with her hands on her hips and an angry expression on her face, and all I can do is watch in fascination as the scene plays out.
“So, are you going to order something or just stare at my co-worker?” Gwen snaps.
The man looks up at her but says nothing. His jaw clenches and his expression darkens, sending a jolt of fear tearing through me as I picture him doing something horrible to Gwen. She doesn’t seem afraid in the least, though.
“Well?” she asks. “Because if you’re just here to creep us out, A, it’s not working and B, you need to get the fuck out of here right now.”
He gets to his feet and mutters an apology before ducking his head and darting out of the diner. Gwen stands where she is, hands still on her hips, watching through the large front windows as he dashes down the sidewalk. She turns back to me and holds her hands out then takes an elegant bow as I applaud.
“Thank you for dealing with him,” I say.
“I got you. You know that.”
“I do. And I love you for it.”
Later on, after cleaning up and closing the diner, I say goodnight to Gwen and give her a wave as she drives off. With a sigh, I turn and start to walk home. A thick blanket of slate-gray clouds blots out the moonlight, making it seem even darker than normal. As I cut down Halston Street—my normal route back when I walked home all the time—the hair on the back of my neck stands on end and cold goosebumps crawl across my skin.
I glance behind me. The street is empty, but that feeling of being watched stubbornly persists.
Halston is a narrow, one-way street that’s lined with storefronts and small businesses, all of them dark, already closed up for the night. The street isn't particularly well-lit. Most of the street lights have burned out and the city has yet to fix them, leaving it in murky shadows and gloom, but it’s normally safe enough.
My heart is racing, my stomach turning somersault inside of me as the feeling of eyes on me gets stronger. I turn around again but still don’t see anybody. Pulling out my phone, I key in a quick text to Lane but before I hit send, the blood in my veins turns to ice when I hear the solid thud of a footstep on the sidewalk behind me.
I turn around once more and this time, a soft yelp bursts from my mouth when I see the man from the diner. It's dim and gloomy on the street, but I can see well enough in the ambient light to recognize him. He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, his shoulder-length hair bobbing as he walks, those dark eyes glittering in the darkness fixed on me. He's a few inches shorter than Lane and not nearly as big, but the man is lean and it's not hard to see that he works out.
“Lanie.”
