Page 2 of Not Ready

The hair on the back of my neck actually stands up. I kinda thought that was a myth from scary movies with ghosts or poltergeists.

I take the turn down my block. It’s only forty or fifty feet to my door. Something has me itching to look behind me, but that feels like an awful idea.

My heart races as my chest rises and falls rapidly. Carrying an extra human being around is hard work. My side aches with a stitch, and I’m forced to slow my steps.

My gut tells me to check again to see if I’m being followed.

I swivel my head slowly, and there’s definitely a face staring as it peeks around the brick building on the corner.

My entire body jolts as I jump several feet in the air, screaming before I realize the sound has escaped.

I take off, but my foot slides out from under me. My hands fly out to catch my fall, but luckily, I hit my knees without going down on my stomach.

“Damn, honey. Are you trying to twist an ankle?” Andrew’s voice echoes around the empty street.

Part of me is hugely relieved, but the other part screams that he’s not supposed to be here.

It doesn’t matter if he’s familiar.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I say in a shaky tone as I try to climb to my feet.

“Here, let me help.” He extends an arm, and I grab it. I need to get off the sidewalk and into my building immediately. “That wasn’t my intention. You know that. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you walking away from the club.” He frowns as I make it back to my feet. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I know,” I agree, taking a few steps toward my building.

Andrew keeps pace beside me. “You should take a rideshare if you don’t have a vehicle. This isn’t the best part of town.”

“I’m just trying to save money,” I admit, hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder.

“I’ll make sure the guys and I start leaving better tips. You’ve got to be more careful.” His tone is kind, but something inside me says not to trust him or his good intentions.

We hit the exterior door to my apartment building.

The lock has been broken for months, but our landlord doesn’t care.

I still shove my key into the lock, pretending to unlock it. My insides scream that this situation is dangerous. Letting Andrew know about an obvious flaw in the building security would be a huge mistake.

I get the door “unlocked” and open it before turning back. “Thank you for getting me to my door safely.” I force a friendly smile that feels like a grimace.

“No problem, honey.” He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” I say, spinning around and bolting inside.

I don’t even stop at the mailbox.

I take the three flights of stairs like my side doesn’t ache and I’m not severely out of breath.

Getting inside my apartment only takes another minute.

I slam the door, lock both locks, and lean against the frame.

Holy fucking shit.

That was not okay.

What the hell am I going to do now?

He comes into my job all the time. He’s always been a little off, but not in a way that seriously concerned me.

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