Page 1 of Manic

1

SUTTON

The familiar tingle at my back from unseen eyes urged me forward, my steps sharp against the pavement. Even as I glanced over my shoulder, even as I shoved the shop doors open and ordered a coffee, the knowledge of him watching me had my adrenaline surging. He was a constant shadow I could never quite outrun.

As soon as I thanked the barista and stepped away, my phone chimed, and I knew exactly who it was.

Right on cue.

I lifted my phone and held back a smile.

It should have concerned me how much I enjoyed my secret admirer, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

I didn’t know his name or what he looked like, so logically, it didn’t make sense. But as usual, my pulse betrayed me with a wild flutter any time his unknown number lit up my screen.

It was the same jittery excitement a child would experience while eating candy—the sugar overwhelming their logic to stop eating before a stomach ache.

Was that what I was? Too blinded by thrill and excitement to see the danger right in front of my face?

Brewed coffee filled my nostrils, and the growl of espresso machines cut through the haze of hushed guest chatter. A smile finally played on my lips as I stared at my phone like an infatuated idiot. I stood in the middle of the room while people brushed past, forcing my pulse to steady. The same question plagued my thoughts like it usually did.

Who was he? I wish I had the answer.

Unknown: It’s forty degrees out, and you’re still drinking iced coffee. So predictable. Just like that blush every time you pretend to not like my gifts.

Warmth flooded my face as I was confronted with what I’d found in my car this morning—a queen’s chess piece. It burned a hole in my coat pocket as if begging to be played with.

My admirer had a habit of leaving me gifts when I least expected it. Perhaps they weren’t gifts, but warnings.

I couldn’t tell.

That alone should have frightened me, but I found it oddly endearing. Someone, whoever it might be, had spent their time learning who I was, what I liked, and where I went on a daily basis.

A huff of amusement escaped my nose as I deciphered how to respond. Regardless of my wild pulse of interest, I wasn’t admitting to my admirer how much I liked his gift.

I walked toward the open armchair near the window to wait for Amelia. We had planned on shopping today, in search of a formal dress to wear for tonight’s gala. I would have skipped it if I could, but events like these weren’t optional since our fathers moved in the same professional circles. When mine retired from architecture and began running several casinos, we started attending the annual event our city manager hosted. And, of course, I was required to go alongside him and my mother for formal appearances.

But as my admirer noted, I was holding an iced coffee—a shaken espresso with a pump of vanilla, to be exact. It was my typical order.

Conversation mingled in the biting air of fall, thick with buzzed excitement for the cooler weather. Even in a charming, albeit warm, coffee shop, a brisk chill blanketed my skin as the doors continued to open. A cool breeze rushed past, whipping at my coat. We were roughly two months away from the harsh winter in Vancouver.

Setting my coffee aside, I typed a reply.

Me: Iced coffee doesn’t have a weather limit. Are you here?

I wasn’t sure if I’d get a response, but I asked anyway.

Sometimes I scanned my surroundings, eager to catch a glimpse of who had messaged me day after day, wondering if my admirer shared the same space as me. I had asked what he looked like once, and he’d given me the silent treatment for three whole days.

I didn’t ask again after that.

But here’s what I did know: he was male, in his late twenties, liked classic rock, and knew everything about coffee. We had brief conversations about interests here and there, but beyond that, I knew nothing about who he was—only slivers of what I observed. A detailed list of my observations sat in my phone, and I added to it when another one came up.

A thought lodged in my mind before I could stop it.

What if tonight was the night I finally uncovered his identity? Would he be at the gala, hidden somewhere in the shadows? I desperately wanted a face to attach to this mystery person.

After a few minutes, my phone chimed again.