Page 31 of To Have and to Stalk
Maybe.
Before I could say anything, Shay messaged.
How does one become a criminal?
I’d never wanted to open up to someone before. I’d never talked about my hobbies. I’d never shared anythingreal.
But for the first time, I wanted someone to know me.
Shay didn’t wait for me to lie or deflect. Instead, she sent another question.
What does a criminal do for fun?
Myhobbythis week had been breaking fingers and noses. Especially, because of how fucked up Shay had gotten me.
Bake.
I sent instead. There had been a small moment in time when I’d dreamed of opening a bakery. But to open a bakery, you needed roots. The very purpose of my life necessitated I rip out any roots.
Will you bake me something?
I felt a smile tugging the corner of my lips.
What should I bake you?
Hmm. What’s the hardest thing to bake?
She was cute and teasing, and I thought again to that bottle of vodka. Was this what drunk Shay looked like?
Macarons and soufflés aren’t especially easy.
I want a macaron soufflé.
I laughed. It sounded foreign and wrong in my throat.When was the last time I laughed?
I didn’t have the right ingredients for whatever abomination a macaron soufflé was, but I could bakesomething.I hopped out of bed and pulled out ingredients from the black, stainless steel fridge. A stick of cold butter, sugar, cream, eggs…my eyes drifted to the only thing I brought with me from town to town—an old, slightly ripped and stained photo I’d taped to the fridge.
Two gangly boys towered over a girl glaring and flipping off the camera.
In the fantasy life where I baked, maybe I had a good relationship with my siblings. I didn’t know my sister’s favorite food, if she was dating. My brother, Stone, I knew even less about. At least I knew my sister was a coroner who worked for the state.
Stone? He’d been out of jail for more than a year, and I had no idea what he did for money—but he refused any from me.
A notification buzzed, ripping my gaze away.
Why do you like baking?
It was the perfect combination of control and creativity. My stress melted away with each carefully measured and weighed ingredient. Since Shay entered my life, I’d been doing a lot more baking. I’d started noticing stray flour on my body anytime I was stressed or nervous.
Stress relief.
Are you stressed right now?
Was I stressed? There was a woman in my inbox that I should leave the fuck alone, and I couldn’t. I dragged two floured hands through my hair.
You owe me a question.
I don’t like opening up. When I open up to someone, they use it against me.
