Page 123 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Way to make a joke that makes her super uncomfortable, you fool.

What I should do was laugh it off and pretend I hadn’t been so stupid. What I did was double down like an idiot. “Ah, so you admit you forgot the vow you made to me when you were seven?”

“I-I did what now?”

Buffing my wing mirrors so I had something to do, I forced another laugh. “I think your dad had done something to irk you. You stormed out of Melody’s house and pouted on the lawn. I’d been roped into helping her make a few more flower beds for some pocket money.”

My mind filled with images of Sailor back then. Her sandy hair cut into a bob, her daisy-print dress slightly big for her gangly frame. “You said you hated all boys. I think I called out that I was a boy and didn’t appreciate being lumped in with the rest. And you said that I was the one exception. I was an exception because I was nice to your nana. I was the only one you would tolerate from now on, so that made me yours, and no one else could have me.”

I caught her eyes with another chuckle. “In my thirteen-year-old brain, I just assumed that meant we were dating. I’ve been waiting for you ever since.”

Wow, you’re the biggest moron alive.

Her mouth fell wide. “Please tell me you haven’t. That didn’t happen, surely—”

“Oh, it happened. But no.” I shrugged, pretending the memory didn’t make my heart skip. Funny how our childhood never really affected me. I’d always been aware of her. I’d crushed on her every now and again, but she’d just been the occasional guest next door. But these days, those memories had taken on a weight, a premonition. “Don’t worry, Sailor, I haven’t been saving myself all these years.”

She looked at the ground, hugging Peng extra close as if I’d hurt her feelings somehow.

And you just keep digging that grave.

I was trying to make her like me as Zander, not push her deeper into X’s arms.

Once again, jealousy spiked.

Was she thinking about him? Was last night permanently etched on her mind, replaying repeatedly like it was in mine?

“Anyway…” I dropped to my haunches and polished the chrome exhaust pipe. “I get that you’re uncomfortable around me, and it’s fine.” The sun cast a halo around her. “I hope you have a great day. It’s gonna be another hot one. Don’t roast yourself in the garden. Otherwise, Melody will tell me off.”

She frowned. Her head cocked as if thinking something important. But then she shook her head and clutched little Penguin close. “Are you going for a ride?”

Keeping my attention on the bike, I nodded. “I am. It’s been a while.”

She eyed my shiny black death machine. “I didn’t even know you had a motorbike.”

As much as I wanted to hang out with her and talk, I didn’t have the capacity to keep my feelings hidden or hide how much it hurt that she still saw me as the trigger to Milton’s abuse.

It wasn’t her fault.

I didn’t blame her.

But after last night, my stupid heart was fragile.

Tossing the rag into the plastic box of mechanical supplies, I grabbed my helmet. Matte black with a blackout visor—I’d almost had a local graffiti artist paint a matching skull on the front and back, so it looked as if I looked both ways in traffic. The skull matched my riding scarf.

Out of habit, I reached for the spare skull balaclava at the bottom of the box, then froze.

What the fuck are you doing?

You can’t wear that.

She’d know immediately who I was.

My pulse skyrocketed. My palms turned sweaty.

Keeping my back to her, I went to shove the helmet over my damning red hair and muttered, “I hope the noise doesn’t annoy you too much. I’ll keep the revs to a minimum on Ember Drive.”

I felt her staring at my back, granting another gush of goosebumps. “I still don’t understand how you can ride something so dangerous when you’re a doctor and probably see countless accidents.”

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