Page 38 of Quinlan

That’s the lie I tell myself tonight. That it’s only about my health.

The other reason I’m not staying in my apartment is them. The men I met outside my building.

Mystery stalker guy. Liam and his fire for eyes.

The idea of bumping into any of them wakes the butterflies in my body. Quickens my pulse before I’ve taken the first step on the sidewalk.

The realization that neither might be there sends a fresh wave of humiliation through me. It’s pathetic, going out there, hoping I’d see them.

Fuck pathetic. They wanted me too. I didn’t hallucinate the look in their eyes. The way they touched me.

That was real. They were real.

Heat blooms in my chest. Shoots up my throat, scalding my cheeks. It’s been forever since I even thought about a man like that, let alone fantasized about two of them.

About a smirking, wicked stalker.

About an intense man who set an envelope to flame because he felt like it.

The sounds of the street are louder when I push the door of the building open. Louder when I walk outside, one cautious step at a time. I look around, trying not to be too obvious.

The wind chills the burning sensation across my skin, but it’s not enough.

My God. Look at me. Going outside to jog shouldn’t be such an issue. I take the same route every time I run. A left at the corner of the street. Wave at Rex on my way to Grant Park, where I run on the trail parallel to the river. Double back home.

The route is a familiar one. I could do it with my eyes closed.

Yet I stay exactly where I am. My feet planted on the concrete. Frozen in place.

A fresh wave of goosebumps makes me shiver. That same unease from the last two days comes rushing back while I’m standing here.

Someone’s intense attention is on me.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Can’t shake it. Can’t do anything about it.

Thoughts of paranoia are there and gone. This is real. As real as my quickening pulse. As the heaviness in the pit of my stomach.

I search the crowds for any sign on either of the two men. There are people all around me. Getting back from work. Walking their dogs. Milling in and out the storefronts.

So many of them.

None of them has sapphire blue eyes. None of them has the fiercest silent presence I’ve ever come across.

Not one single person casts a gaze my way longer than appropriate.

I’m. Not. Paranoid.

I won’t stay here to be toyed with. I spin to the left, taking the long way to Maeve’s. In less than fifteen minutes, I’ll catch a glimpse of my half-brother working.

My shoes pound on the pavement, the jog helps me shake some of my worries off. When I run, I’m liberated. From life. From the burden of my past.

There’s a presence somewhere nearby still. No doubt. The prickling sensation is ever present. The heat on my nape is undeniable. It hasn’t left me over the last five minutes or so.

Whoever this is, they can make themselves known. Otherwise, I’m done being prey.

Or maybe I like it. Maybe I enjoy the chase.

Only one way to find out.

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