Page 16 of Deja Brew

“He’ll be back as soon as he’s able. Got the flu or something, so he’s taken the week off.”

“Oh. Thanks, Ben. See you later.”

Ben leaves the store, the door banging behind him, and I stare at it blankly.

Leo called in sick. To avoid me.

None of this makes sense. I saw him at four-thirty in the morning across the street, staring at the concrete. He wasn’t sick yesterday, and if he had the flu, why did he follow me in the cold?

“You okay?” Gemma squeezes my arm gently.

“Fine. I need to ice the cupcakes.” I brush past her towards the stairs and ignore her concerned look. She lets me go and doesn’t remind me I’ve already iced them.

He’ll show up tomorrow, and I’ll talk to him. We’ll clear the air and communicate as adults about everything, maybe have dinner together instead of following each other and forcing situations, hoping for more.

He doesn’t show the next day. Or the day after that. Or a week later.

But he walks me to work each morning.

6

LEO

I can’t stop myself.Can’t stop myself from following her, from making sure she gets to work okay, from painting her. I can’t stop it.

I tried.

Yesterday I didn’t turn on the usual alarm to wake up at her ungodly hour. Didn’t stop my body from waking me in a panic at the usual time, heart in my throat, sure something had happened to her. So I got out of bed, got dressed, and followed her to work. Again.

She knows I’m still following her. She watches me from the door after she locks it. I don’t look at her. Not directly, at least.

We both know I’m invading her privacy; apparently the minimum I’m able to do is avoid looking at her through the window. At least I’m achieving that.

We haven’t spoken since she fled my flat after seeing my studio. Admittedly, it probably looks bad from an outsider’s perspective. I just can’t stop myself from painting her. Every time I take pencil to paper or paint to canvas, she appears. It’s involuntary. I’ve tried landscapes and concentrating on other people, but it always ends up linked to her.

I’m surprised no one’s arrested me. Been waiting for it. I’m not exactly hiding anymore and now she knows everything. It’s only a matter of time.

I’ve taken a leave of absence from work. That way, she doesn’t have to see me or talk to me if she doesn’t want to.

I’ve disrupted her life enough.

She’s walked slower to work the last few days. Stopping at buildings to gaze at them, peeking into the flower shop at the top of the street, and watching stray cats skitter past. She’s never done that before. It’s almost like she wants me to catch up to her and walk beside her, but that’s wishful thinking. Projecting my own wants on her instead of considering her own. I’m still doing it by following her. I know she doesn’t want it.

Thankfully, I’m managing to stay away from her besides the mornings. No driving by her flat to make sure she arrived home, no bumping into her at the shops, no talking to her while I deliver boxes. Just standing across the street until Gemma arrives.

She’s in a long black trench coat today, and it billows out behind her as she strides down the street. Like something out of theMatrix. Sexy and confident. And not mine. Never mine.

Her hair’s in a slick ponytail, which is unusual, and swishes across her back. She’s angry today. The way she’s walking, slamming her shoes on the footpath, tells me everything I need to know. I’ll find a safe way for her to walk, then I’ll stop. Leave her alone and never see her again. Switch jobs and hope the world gives her everything.

I’m distracted trying to figure out how to break my habits and leave her behind, so I don’t notice when she whips around and stands in the middle of the path beside her café. I draw up short, freezing in the middle of the footpath, only a few steps away from her. The closest I’ve been since she was at my place.

I study her and stay still, waiting to see what she wants. Don’t want to scare her, but I’m also incapable of moving, caught in her searching gaze.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

I suck in a shocked breath. She wants to talk to me? “I?—”

“You haven’t been to the café in two weeks, but here you are.”

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