Page 60 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Every bubbly feeling crashed and burned.

Oh.

Tears pricked my eyes, revealing just how stupidly invested I was over a masked watcher who didn’t have to cover me in a blanket the night he kept me safe, but did. A faceless stranger who knew more about what happened than Lily, my best friend.

I went to type a generic—‘That’s fine. Have a nice life’—but my phone buzzed.

X:I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop watching you. And I’m afraid that when you no longer need me, I’m going to need you, and I honestly don’t know how this is gonna end for me.

The stinging tears from his previous message spilled down my cheeks. I’d never been a crier. I’d never been one to weep at movies or books or silly things like messages.

But lately…God.

Swiping the wetness off my face, I typed.

Me:I should reply like a normal person and say we don’t know each other. That what we’re doing is absolutely ridiculous…………

X:But…?

Me:The more we talk, the more I don’t want to stop.

X:You know you can trust me, right? No matter what? No matter what happens, I vow on my life, I will nevereverhurt you.

Me:Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

X:Probably because it is. Eventually, we’ll have to stop. We can’t be pen pals for the rest of our lives.

A short laugh escaped.

Me:Oh, I don’t know. I think pen pals are very underrated.

X:I used to have one as a kid, actually. My family signed me up to converse with some kid in China as some sort of global networking. It was fun. We still flick emails every now and again.

Me:That’s actually super cool. Does writing notes to flower fairies count as having a pen pal? I posted them by leaving them in the garden. My nana always said if we gave thanks to the flower folk, then the blooms would be brighter.

X:I can see you being a flower child as a kid.

Me:And there you go again making me wonder if you’ve been in my house and snooped through the family photo albums.

X:If there are photos of you in there, don’t tempt me.

I gasped. That message felt decidedly unsafe and entirely too…fun.

God, fun.

Just like frustration, I’d missed fun.

I missed the highs and excitement. The long-lost art of flirting.

Flirting?

Have you lost your mind? You don’t know this man. How on earth can you think about flirting?

Especially after Milton. Especially after—

It wasbecauseof Milton that I even contemplated such a dalliance. Bracing my shoulders, I sucked up courage and threw myself into the first step toward freedom.

Me:Tell me something, X.

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