Page 27 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

“No, I think I do.”

I get the impression that he’s contemplating something, but it doesn’t take him much longer to say, “Well, if you insist. Would you be willing to help me with something? You can explain on the way.”

I make a quick glance at my pajamas and hesitate. He watches me closely, waiting. When my eyes meet back with his, I blow out a long breath and shrug. I shouldn’t care if I’m in my pajamas.

Between the adrenaline, and wanting to be around Alec I nod and get into his car.

***

How did I go from a college student busting my ass off every day to a dropout sitting in a car with a band member creeping at a house from the side of the road?

My life has officially taken twenty steps backward, and I’m not entirely sure why I’m OK with that.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be famous. Granted, Alec isn’t worldwide famous, but he is popular around here. I assume they get what they want when they want it and don’t let a single person stand in the way. But despite that, with where I am right now, it seems like Alec is just another person, also needing to fight for what he wants.

I still don’t know him well enough to determine if that is the case, but my gut instinct has never failed me before.

I hadn’t pictured Alec as the type to sit back and watch someone else’s house. He’s always telling me I’m the one stalking. Perhaps he is the stalker, and I’m setting myself up with a secret serial killer.

Why does that give me a rush?

This entire situation should worry me, but it doesn’t. Maybe deep down, I know he can’t possibly be a serial killer. Either way, he’s taking stalking to a whole new level, and that is something I’m not too sure I’m OK with.

I mean, my father is a cop.

Dread slams me in the gut, knowing how furious and disappointed he’d be if he saw me with Alec right now… stalking, nonetheless. But that dread starts disappearing the more I think about it, replaced with… excitement.

I am realizing that I’ve always lived my life constantly being a “good girl.” Never experiencing anything so exhilarating. And truthfully, I have always been afraid.

I’m being ridiculous. Why would Alec want to tag me along for whatever this we’re doing when he knows damn well my father is a police officer, and we could end up being in trouble for this?

Granted, I’m positive my father would only give me a slap on the wrist, but certainly not Alec.

Yet… here I am, going along with whatever crazy plan Alec has, hiding and keeping watch over this beautiful, up-kept house with perfect green grass.

I had dreams growing up, and I like to think that I still do. But all of this is not how I pictured my life turning out.

My stomach grumbles loud, and I pretend I didn’t hear it, let alone feel it.

Why did I agree to this? I’m starving.

As if Alec was reading my mind, he breaks the silence and says, “Your stomach is yelling at you.”

Placing a hand over my belly, I feel another round of rumbles. “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

He hums. “We’ll grab something to eat after this.”

I nod, trying to act as though that offer doesn’t affect me the way it does. I change the subject. “Can I ask what exactly we are doing?” If I’m here to ‘help’ him with something, I need to know what I’m supposed to be helping with.

He doesn’t look at me when he says, “We’re waiting.” His voice is a low whisper as if the house can hear him. I am even more confused now, but I nod my head anyway, somehow being OK with going along with whatever this is.

“What exactly are we waiting for?”

Rather than answering me, he keeps his eyes trained on the house. His gaze is unwavering. I know he’s waiting for something or someone, and it’d be much easier if he would just tell me.

What is so special about this house?

Minutes pass, and I break the silence once again. “I knew you were the stalker,” I tease and nudge him in the arm.

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