Page 21 of Lotus

We elbow-bump each other and I see her out, then traipse up to my office to check my e-mails with Alexis following behind me.

Day turns to dusk, and I’ve successfully accomplished zip. Well, except for showering and devouring an entire frozen pizza all on my own. It’s fine, though—only my cat was here to judge me.

I’m in the middle of debating if I should reach for a book or my vibrator when I hear a clatter from downstairs. I shake my head, wondering what kind of mess my cat just made for me. Last week, she knocked over a potted plant and tracked tiny soil-stained pawprints all throughout my carpeted living room.Oy.

Deciding on the book first, because I’ll inevitably be motivated to spend time with my vibrator after a few chapters, I flip through to my bookmark and settle back into the pillows stacked against the headboard. I smile at Alexis, who is curled into a ball at the foot of the bed.

“I’m going to have to kick you out soon. I’ll be doing things not meant for innocent kitty eyes.”

Alexis lets out a sigh, and I snicker to myself.

Then my blood runs cold.

I sit up straight, my heart leaping from its comfortable confinements.

Shit. Crap. Fuckety-fuck.

If Alexis is on my bed, I either have a ghost downstairs, or a raping, axe-wielding psychopath, eager to pull out my intestines and wear them as a scarf.

Points for dramaandcreativity.

I look for the closest weapon-like object, which is a toss-up between my vibrator and the crucifix I keep under my bed, despite the fact that I haven’t been a practicing Catholic since I discovered Santa wasn’t real.

But I keep the cross, just in case. Hell is a lot scarier than coal in my stocking.

Slipping out of the bedroom, my clammy fingers curled around the crucifix, I close the door behind me so Alexis remains safely inside. Then, I tiptoe down to the main floor of my tri-level, trying to remember the moves I learned in Taekwondo when I was seven.

“Why are you holding a cross?”

I spin around and almost stab Gabe through the heart.

“Shit,” he exclaims, snatching my wrist before it collides with his chest. “Jesus Christ. Easy there, Buffy.”

“What the hell, Gabe?” My chest is heaving, my legs all a-quiver. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He yanks the crucifix out of my hand, narrowing his eyes at it. “LiterallyJesus Christ. Again, I ask, why are you holding a cross? Were you about to attempt another séance to bring Kurt Cobain back from the dead?”

“Ugh. Damn you,” I mutter, trying to derail my nerves. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I always show up unannounced.”

“Not when I’m in the middle of a home invasion!”

One of his eyebrows arches in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

Yanking back the cross, I toss it onto the sofa and shake out my arms like I’m trying to cleanse myself of the goosebumps. A deep breath follows. “I heard a noise. I thought it was my cat knocking something over, but she was in the bedroom with me. Cue masked-man lurking behind my ficus tree, waiting to molest me.”

We both glance at the ficus tree, sighing when the coast is clear.

“It was probably just me,” Gabe determines. “You’re being paranoid.”

“You try being a female living alone after dealing with a stalker for three months.”

He holds his hands up. “Sorry. You’re right.” Gabe saunters over to the couch and flops down, draping his arms over the top. His dark green eyes flick up to me as he cocks his head to the right. “We never had thatAlways Sunnymarathon.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I tentatively approach him, still on edge. “Your brother basically coming back from the dead distracted us a bit,” I say, taking a seat beside him and clearing my throat. “Besides, you’re super busy now.”

Gabe groans and holds up three fingers, counting them down.

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