Page 14 of Nitro

Those guys didn't mean me any harm, and yet my mind seemed to automatically go to bad places.

Why was it so hard for me to handle a simple interaction like that? I bet Dylan wouldn't have acted weird.

Plus, I wished I had waited for my change.

A kindergarten teacher didn't exactly make much. Kids were so much easier to handle than adults, I thought miserably.

Footsteps approached behind me, and my paranoia immediately ramped up.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw nothing for a moment.

I forced myself to relax; it was probably just my imagination playing tricks on me.

As I continued my walk back to the apartment, I realized I had my cellphone out.

My first instinct had been to call Nitro.

Disappointed with myself, I shook off the unease and tried to convince myself that it was nothing.

But then, as the footsteps echoed once more, I knew I was not imagining the sound this time around.

A chill ran down my spine, and I started running.

Hicks used to play hide-and-seek with me when he was bored. He would set me loose on his grandfather's dilapidated property and tell me to run.

Each time, I lost that horrible game. He was the predator, and I was the prey. Our roles were clearly defined.

In the present, I definitely felt like the hunted. Thoughts of the alphas in the store lingered in my mind.

Were they the ones chasing me, or perhaps it was just some drunk who had no idea what he was doing?

For a second, I swore I felt warm breath on the back of my neck.

Goosebumps appeared across my arms, and I let out a scream of panic. The sensation was gone as quickly as it came.

Finally, I reached the steps of my apartment building. I dashed into the lobby, heart pounding.

Spotting the opening elevator doors, I rushed inside, half expecting someone to come after me.

However, there was no one in the lobby.

Panting, trying to recover my breathing, I pushed the button for my floor and nearly collapsed against the wall of the elevator.

This couldn't be good for my heart.

The adrenaline still pumping through my veins left me feeling both wired and exhausted as I stumbled into the sanctuary of my familiar apartment.

With a quick, anxious check to ensure the door was securely locked, I peeled off my sweaty hoodie.

"No more late-night strolls after midnight," I whispered to myself.

My hands were still trembling, and I found myself sinking onto the nearest piece of furniture.

The familiar surroundings should've given me some measure of comfort, but I was still spooked by the whole experience.

I found myself grabbing my cellphone. At first, I debated contacting Marc, but I soon dismissed the idea.

He'd probably rush here, tell me to pack my stuff, and insist on me moving back with him.

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