Page 76 of To Have and to Stalk
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He wasn’t really my type, but he wasn’t bad-looking—he’d clearly lied about his height, which was annoying. I always thought that was a myth. I didn’t think guysactuallylied about that. I didn’t understand it. I knew my own height, so unless I suddenly grew nine inches, there was no way you’re six-foot-two.
My date had seemed nice enough. His profile had showed him reading a book I liked, and he was into the outdoors. Just when I was about to feel bad for effectively using this guy to make mystalkerjealous, he spoke.
“It’s like edging,” he said.
I paused, hand on my water. “What?”
He glanced down, fiddling with the edge of his blue-and-green windbreaker. When he spoke again, he didn’t look up.
“You’re not showing a lot, but enough, it’s edging. You know, like, keeping me hard and not letting me orgasm. I like it.”
Ew.
So Ihadheard him correctly.
We ordered and the conversation continued, if in a somewhat stilted way. He had a bad habit of making self-deprecating jokes, saying things like,I’m so dumbafter any personal fact he shared.
Which put me into the weird position of either ignoring it and letting silence linger, or telling him,No, you’re not dumb.
Calder wouldn’t make a self-deprecating joke that put me in the position of coddling a dude I barely knew.
And that was when I realized I’d developed an annoying habit. On everything, I compared him to Calder.
After a moment, he said, “So…you said you were into CNC.”
“Um…” Calder’s words sounded in my head.
The type of men you draw with that profile won’t be nice.
“Yeah,” I said. “I suppose so.”
His hand slid under the table, grabbing my knee. I jolted out of his grip.
“Yeah, you like that?” His hand encircled my knee again. “Want to fight me?”
I’d met a stranger in a graveyard, but this guy? There was something in my gut screaming no.
Don’t apologize for having a boundary, Shay.
Fuck. Once again I found myself thinking of Calder?—
A few booths away, someone sat alone in a corner booth. Black gloves, black long-sleeved jacket, a motorcycle helmet on, indoors. My chest tightened. My stomach swirled like galaxies and black holes. Sucking, swallowing, twisting.
He was here?
His head tilted slightly, and even with the mask, I knew he was clocking me stare at him.
I focused on the droplets of condensation against my water glass, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. There was no food in front of him. It was like he waswaiting.
I glanced up again to be sure. He was looking in my direction, middle finger tapping the table in a way that was both measured and menacing.
I shot to my feet. “Excuse me. I… I need to use the restroom.”
I didn’t hear what my date said. I rushed to the bathroom, needing space. Needing to breathe. This was not normal. This reaction wasn’t normal.
Limerence,I reminded myself.
