Page 69 of To Have and to Stalk
Limerence, I reminded myself, and sat on the bath’s white porcelain edge as it filled, undoing the straps of my heels.
It had nothing to do with how thoughtful he was. How he took me to a plant-based restaurant. It was limerence.
Water sloshed against my ass, getting my sister’s dress wet.
“Shit,” I said and hopped up, quickly turning the water off. I slid the straps of Lithie’s black dress off my shoulder and shimmied it to my waist, then paused. A small purple bruise was forming above my nipple.
Calder’s bite.
I chewed my lower lip, fingers ghosting the mark.
I shook my head.
Limerence.
The bath was a lovely, delicious heat. The kind that thawed my bones and fogged away any negative feelings. I sat like that for a while. Feeling and thinking nothing but heat and water.
I read something about kinks stemming from trauma. What kind of trauma caused a desire to be stalked?
I sank deeper into the bath, hair a floating halo around my head. Thoughts and memories spread out in a formless blob.
My father left when I got sick. My ex-fiancé cheated on me. The people who were supposed to love me the most…didn’t. But this relative stranger was so obsessed with me he was breaking the law.
Was it weird to think I felt safe with someone whom I barely knew, who admitted to stalking and hacking into all my information?—
The bathroom door shot open with such force it slammed against the wall.
“Jesus!” I startled.
My sister stood in the doorway, her face slathered green with a mud mask, wearing her favorite tee—a powder-blue shirt with Freud’s face on it, and the textUr Mom Gave Me This Shirt.
“If you think you’re getting away with not telling me about your date, well, you don’t know me.” She sat on the toilet, a joint between her pointer and middle fingers. “Spill.”
“This couldn’t wait until after my bath?” I asked.
She took a long drag, exhaling musky-smelling smoke. “No.”
I rolled my eyes as she handed me the joint.
“It was…” I took a puff.
How to tell my sister Calder was the same man from the graveyard…the one who stalked me and whom I very much did not discourage from said stalking.
After a moment of silence, my sister said, “That bad, huh?”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “Not bad. Just…unexpected.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t fuck?” She plucked the joint from my fingers. “Unless you did and it was tragically short.”
“Lithie…” I rubbed the mark above my breast absently. “Have you ever wanted to be with someone, even if everything on paper is saying no?”
She inhaled deeply. The smoke blurred her features, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Yeah.”
My sister was notorious for avoiding attachments. It came easy to her, unlike me.
I pushed the water around, unsure what to say.
“Quick question,” she said, looking for a change of topic. “Are you well?” I arched a brow, and she continued. “You’ve been doing all the chores. The laundry, the dishes, even the litter box is clean.”
