Page 170 of Texting Dr. Stalker

He stiffened.

His back muscles flexed as he tried to look over his shoulder, but then he straightened and kept his eyes on the road.

His wrist shifted, adding another snarl of speed.

I closed my eyes as the world turned into a liquid blur. I felt like I could spread my wings and soar. I wasn’t rebuilding them. I now had a million feathers and the newfound strength to fly.

Zander’s gloved fingers suddenly touched mine.

Driving one-handed, he pressed my hand against his stomach, sharing so much with a single touch that words could never express. Spreading my fingers, I gasped as he threaded his gloved ones with mine. Together, we curled our combined grip into a fist. His belly tightened where I touched him as if that simple hand hold affected him as much as it affected me.

I shivered as he squeezed me.

I struggled to let him go as he resumed driving with both hands.

And as he shot us up a hill toward the rain-drenched clouds, pure happiness found me.

Not tainted by should dos and should nots.

Not ruined by racing thoughts or doubts.

In that moment, I was entirely present, awake, alive, and withhim.

* * * * *

The growl of the motorbike seemed extra vicious as we weaved our way through twisty, sleepy suburbia and turned onto Ember Drive. The slow speed after our fast fly seemed as if we’d become a snail after soaring like a hawk.

The rain still fell but not as heavy, the droplets kissing my skin instead of smacking me. With careful skill, Zander turned onto his driveway, bringing us home to the two houses that sat side by side with their matchmaking, meddling ghosts.

His garage door was still up, his trust in our neighbours evident with how safe our street was.

He killed the engine, leaving my ears ringing in the rain.

Neither of us moved.

I knew I had to stop hugging him but the thought of breaking that warm connection hurt more than it should.

I’d been blind for so long.

I’d been wrapped up in my own tragic tale and forgotten to pay attention to the boy next door. The boy Nana had always said was mine.

He called me Lori…

With a creak of wet clothes, Zander kicked the stand down and sat upright.

I pulled my arms away and scrambled off the back. No longer plastered to him, an instant chill soaked into me.

I needed to find Peng and apologise. I craved a warm shower and a cosy bed and a skull-masked stalker to tuck me in and hold me tight.

My heart panged with guilt that even though tonight had made me trip from crush to full-blown attraction toward Zander, I still had feelings for X.

Selfishly, Iwantedthem to be the same person because then I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to either of them.

I struggled with my helmet as Zander swung his leg off the bike, wrenched his off, then helped me with mine.

Rain glittered in his fire-dark hair as he placed both helmets on the leather seat. The quiet ping of splashing droplets sung around us. The lenses of his glasses had water streaks and his grey t-shirt under his unzipped jacket was sopping wet, clinging to every crease of his toned chest.

Studying Zander as he stood in the rain, I narrowed my eyes and imagined him with a mask cutting his handsome face in half. I tried to remove his glasses and paint his fire strands blue black…but I couldn’t.

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