Page 37 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

My voice, barely a whisper, is enough to get Natalie’s attention. She pulls away, holding my upper arms. She doesn’t ask who. The answer is in my eyes, staring back at her in the overhead kitchen lights.

I can’t think, can’t function. Somehow, Natalie gets me ready for bed, guiding me through the motions. I can’t even be sure if it’s Natalie’s hand or my own that holds my toothbrush. I end up curled on my side, beneath the covers, in Natalie’s bed. She plays the big spoon, her hand smoothing my hair.

“I was hoping you’d have a fun story to tell me about your date tonight,” she says softly. “But that stupid fucker had to go and ruin it. I swear to god, if I ever see his fucking face, I’ll-” she grunts in frustration, but her hand remains gentle. “Fucking twat waffle.”

A laugh escapes through my nose and I feel Natalie tense.

“It was a note,” I croak. “On the front door. He stabbed it into the wood with a knife.”

“What? When? Where are they?”

“I threw them away,” I whisper.

“Hang on, why didn’t it trip the doorbell cam?” Natalie’s hand disappears from my head. She’s silent for a moment. “Fuck, there’s a whole three minutes of nothing from earlier. How the fuck did that happen?”

I shake my head. Caleb’s no computer whiz and there’s no way he just got lucky. If there’s footage missing, it means he had help. That makes him even more terrifying. How far do I have to run to escape him? Fucking Mongolia?

“Sophie, we need to do something,” Natalie urges. Her voice is still gentle, still soft and low like I might break if she’s too loud. “File a police report or-”

“And tell them what? Here’s a crumpled note and a knife that now has my prints. Oh, and no one is visible in the footage? Yeah, that’ll really get us somewhere. I don’t need a grippy sock vacation, thanks.”

“No one would send you on a grippy sock vacation,” Natalie groans.

“There’s nothing I can do.” It’s an admission of helplessness. I shake my head and sit up.

Natalie studies me, those hazel eyes seeing deeper into my soul than any one person should be able to. The concern is evident, but I have nothing more to say about Caleb. I can’t just up and move. I can’t run again. I only just got settled.

“It was a good date.” I meet her gaze. A small smile plays on my lips.

“Well, that’s something. But don’t change the subject-”

“I’m not talking about it right now.” I shake my head. “Shit, where’s my phone? I told Brody I’d let him know when I got home safe.”

“Really? Your cunt nugget-”

“That’s a new one.”

“-of an ex just stabbed a threatening message to our door and you’re worried about letting this new guy know you’re safe? Which, bee tee dubs, you’renot.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and flip the blankets off of me in one swift motion. Natalie follows me into the kitchen to find my purse sitting on the tiny island which has become more of a catch-all than a prep space. I pull my phone from the outside pocket of my purse and unlock it to see that Brody has messaged me onKinkRinkthree times.

Props to him for not reacting angrily, at least. I quickly type out an apology, using Natalie as an excuse for not responding sooner. I hope he’s not upset. If Caleb’sfuckery fucked this up for me, I’m gonna fuck up his fucking life.

I need new curse words.

Brody’s response is immediate.

My lips tighten into a thin line. I should share my number. I really should, but there’s still a part of me that knows how easy it is to find all kinds of information with just a first name and a phone number.

I message him good night and look back up at Natalie. She’s been staring the whole time, arms crossed over her chest, her expression one of expectation. Expecting a debrief of the date? Possibly. Since I shut down anything to do with Caleb.

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’m asking about the date tomorrow.”

I just wave a hand before disappearing into my room, utterly exhausted.

Am I going to dream about Brody? Maybe. Will I feel remotely guilty for imagining those muscles beneath my fingertips? Absolutely not.

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