Page 14 of Deja Brew

“A room of drawings, yes. What happened?” Ella shifts closer to me and brushes my leg hesitantly. I barely notice.

“I don’t know.”

“Start from the beginning.”

I sink deeper into the couch and run shaking hands through my hair. My body feels light, my hands disconnected and clumsy as they tug at the ends of my hair.

“We bumped into each other outside a shop and started talking. He was about to send me a message, but since we were both free, we thought we’d go out now. So we went to his place, ordered food, kissed, and I went to the bathroom but found the room with paintings instead,” I blurt out.

“You kissed? Was it good?” Her eyes light up.

“Ella! He has a room full of pictures he drew of me. Kissing him is the least of my worries.”

“You think he’s the one following you?”

I bite my lip and nod. Opening my bag, I fish out the sketch I stole and show it to her. Ella smooths out the crinkles from my anxious fist.

“Didn’t he know you had a cat?”

“But how does he know what Cas looks like?”

“True.” Ella raises her brows. “He’s good. I didn’t know he was an artist.”

She hands the paper to me, and I analyse the drawing. He’s good. More than good. He could sell his art if he wanted to, and painted more than just me and my cat. Leo drew Cas eerily lifelike, right down to the disdain in his eyes.

And me…he paints me differently to how I perceive myself. Not as harsh, more forgiving on my features, softening them. My eyes, my hair, even my curves in some of them, but always in a gentle way. A cherished way.

“He is,” I agree, folding the paper neatly and tucking it under a cushion. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Ella takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand before letting go. “Don’t hate me for what I’m about to say. You like him and have for a long time. You’ve never been concerned about the person following you. Didn’t you say it made you feel safe?”

I frown and try to remember what I told Ella. She’s right that I haven’t felt threatened by the person following me. He never tried anything and always had this aura of calm. Which is the most ridiculous idea. How would I feel someone isn’t threatening, let alone their aura, when I haven’t even seen him? It doesn’t make sense, and it never has. But…it’s true I always felt comforted when I could feel his presence walking to work.

Walking in the dark so early hasn’t been one of my brightest ideas, but the only time I had a sense of unease tightening my chest was early this winter. Supposedly before Leo started following me. After a few weeks I didn’t question walking, never worried about it, because the unease diminished to nothing. BecauseLeostarted following me. To make sure I arrived safely.

Was that why he kept bugging me to lock the doors?

“I did. I don’t understand why, but it made me feel safer when he was there.”

“Then I’m not sure you do anything,” Ella says tentatively. I suck in a breath to respond, but she cuts me off before I get a word out. “You like Leo, possibly more, and now you’ve found out the person who makes you feel safe getting to workisLeo. They’re one and the same. So Leo draws you. He also makes you comfortable getting to work.” She shrugs. “Maybe you need to talk to him. Maybe it’s cute he has a shrine dedicated to you.” I glare at her and she winces. “I don’t know! You’re the one that feels safe with your stalker. Now you know who it is, and you already like him and know he’s obsessed.”

I blink at her. “That’s not a bad point.”

“He probably thinks you’ll call the police and get a restraining order.”

And never see him again.

Never have him deliver to my store again. Never have him tug me close under an umbrella. Never kiss him again. Never get to sit on the couch beside him while he sketches.

No.

“I’m not going to?—”

“I know that, but he doesn’t.” She leans over and hugs me before standing and heading to her room. She stops at the hallway. “All you’ve found out is the person you like and the person who makes you feel safe is thesame person. If any of this made you uncomfortable, I’d call the police, but I don’t think this changes anything for you. There’s cocoa in the pantry.” She winks and leaves me sitting on the couch with her unfortunately perceptive words surrounding me.

I need to bake. I dig out a floral apron, wash my hands, and stride to the pantry to yank out cocoa, flour, and baking powder, and dump them on the bench.

It’s too confusing. I don’t like it. How do I sort out my feelings for Leo when I’ve seen his shrine of paintings, and remember he’s also been following me, while still being able to taste his lips on mine and wish I’d kissed him longer?

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