Page 10 of Scary Suitor

I lost my apartment key, the keypad was unresponsive, and the night-shift attendant couldn’t get the building manager on the phone for the spare key.

Finny let me crash at her place. I could’ve gotten a hotel room, but I can save the money with a sleepover. That would send the message to Cassio that my routine is not predictable.

No doubt he is still watching me.

It’s why I feel hopeful sleeping next to Finny after I lost my keys.

I pray the dinner date was disastrous for Cassio. My behavior was unbearable, ill-mannered, and graceless.

That’ll show him how much we’re incompatible; he’s supposedly rich, so he must be around dinner with sterling silver cutlery, a steadfast butler, and a seven-course meal. Hell, someone could rub his feet while he eats if he wants.

It was difficult to show him the obnoxious side of me without having to draw attention from other customers. My efforts were not taken seriously, and I’m strangely insulted by how he stared at me as if I created the galaxy for him.

I thought staying for the date, one I was tricked into, would get whatever fantasy he had about me out of his system. If he saw how terrible my mannerism was and the lack of chemistry, then he wouldn’t bother me again.

And just in case, I repeated what I had done back one year ago. Different routes to places, coming home at unexpected hours, and switching styles on my appearance. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have a set of cheap wigs on top of my dresser. They scare me in the middle of the night because they resemble massive, hairy spiders.

It worked this time. I haven’t seen him in over a week. No messages from unlisted numbers, unanswered phone calls, unsigned gifts, or his presence anywhere.

I remember it was also around last year’s Valentine’s Day when he showed up in my life, orbiting around me and invading my days with hindrances to keep me where he wanted. One of my most anticipated internships was shut down, and allegations of the company’s embezzlement came as a calibrated move.

Normally, I would think it was a coincidence. Throwing Cassio into the mix with his unwanted stalking behavior, I wasn’t surprised.

I never told my parents about the prowling menace; their health conditions wouldn’t appreciate me adding to the stress. We were never close anyway, so no big tearful goodbye happened. They have in-house caretakers who are appointed by the government. I send them money, but that’s as far as our communication goes.

“Finny,” I mumble, staring intensely at the poster above her bed. “Need some advice.”

She gurgles in response. My nose wrinkles at the pungent nail polish; the red color compliments her skin tone as she flexes her toes contentedly.

“Say you have a stalker,” I quip, lacing my fingers over my stomach as it rumbles in laughter at her incredulous face. “You’ve been followed for who knows how long. He gives you expensive gifts, got your number somehow, and practically lives in the shadows.”

“How long?” she questions, capping the nail polish. “You’re going to have to give details and context.” She rolls her eyes at my stammering protests. “Need more than whatever vague-ass scenario this is.”

I carefully tell her a hypothetical story with as much detail as I can remember. It was last Valentine’s Day when I fully realized Cassio was everywhere, but never interacted with me. Then, the texts, phone calls, presents, and eventually, some physical touches made me wonder if it was him or someone accidentally brushing against me.

I also divulge the game I am forced to participate in. One day, he showed up inside my old apartment with a bag of cash and a stack of fake IDs, demanding I keep quiet and pick one. I had exactly three months to run and hide from him. And on the day of next year’s Valentine, he promised he would bring me home, where he would spoil me rotten.

That was when it truly set in my mind the delusion he was trapped in. I left the bag of cash, definitely dirty money, and accepted the free housing offer to my current job’s employment offer. I pled my case for them to expedite the transfer paperwork, so I was out of my previous city in a matter of two weeks.

Valentine's is close; my time is coming to an end, but I can win this.

The police wouldn’t have been helpful. I’ll bet they’d tell me to chalk it up to my paranoia and overactive imagination, linking inconspicuous things as one conspiracy. I had a classmate who was a victim of stalking by her ex-boyfriend, and nothing was done with her case.

Is stalking the new trend?

I keep the game part to myself.

“Then you go on a date with him—”

Finny leans on her elbow, knuckles pushing her cheek. “Backward logic. Why would you go on a date with someone you’re avoiding?”

“Circumstances,” I mumble, shrugging my shoulders with a squeaked laugh. “Think of it as against your will, and he’s a dangerous man. Or you want to use this chance to make yourself so repulsive that he avoids you like a plague rat.”

“I would slap him for calling me a plague rat,” Finny bristles, slighted by the hypothetical set-up.

It’s the right choice to not tell her it’s real. I didn’t tell her it was Cassio who showed up and not her friend. Speaking of which, I don’t know where he was or what Cassio did to him.

How did he know who my date was and where to find him?

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