Page 136 of To Have and to Stalk
I spent the next few days in a fugue state.
If I’d had any hope of avoiding a flare-up, it vanished when Graham hit me. I wasn’t sure how many days I spent in bed. Just that when I finally came to, the burnt-yellow glow of late-afternoon sun shone through my curtains.
I remember my sister bringing me food.
I think Calder texted me?—
My door slammed open, banging against my lilac wall with a dull thud.
“Are you okay?”
I sat up against my headboard, that simple exertion making me dizzy, and found my intruder through bleary eyes. “Calder?”
Calder stood in my doorway, blue eyes wide, holding a box of doughnuts. His brown-black hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hand through it. There was an indent in the bubblegum-pink cardboard doughnut box from a too tight grip.
“You weren’t answering my messages and I thought—” He broke off. “Has anything happened?” His gaze darted sharply around my bedroom.
“Messages?” I pushed past plates of uneaten food—my sisterdidbring me meals—and grabbed my phone.
Thirty-seven missed texts. All from Calder.
Are you okay?
I’m trying really hard not to break into your apartment, because I don’t want your sister to filet me.
If you don’t message me back in the next five minutes, I’m coming over.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t see these.”
A moment passed in suspension. Calder’s gaze darted around the room, then landed on me. The tension buckled with the force of his exhale.
He bent down next to the bed, eyes locked with mine. The dying afternoon light lit his profile aglow and cast the hollows of his cheeks and the sharp angle of his jaw in shadow.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You haven’t been to work.”
I laughed. “Stalker.”
Calder didn’t laugh. He brushed my lower lip, concern etching his brow, where the faint traces of Graham’s slap remained bruised into my skin.
I could see the question popping up, and before he could ask it, I said, “I had a flare-up. I’m okay. You can go.”
Having Calder see me like this was already too vulnerable. It felt like my viscera were exposed. I didn’t need to add another layer to that.
His eyes narrowed. “Do youwantme to go?”
“I’m not cute,” I said. “I haven’t showered in days.”
Another second passed, his gaze searching mine, and then he kissed my forehead. His lips lingered a moment before he stood.
I didn’t know why I felt such a hollow ache when he left. This was how it was supposed to be. I rubbed my head, still achy and heavy limbed, but able to think, the week coming back.
Get me into your fucking computer.
Why did Graham want in my computer?—
“Can I wash your hair?” Calder reappeared in the doorway. Then, as if hearing himself, added, “In a totally notputs the lotion on your skinway.”
I blinked, not computing. “What?”
