Page 18 of Be Mine

Slumping down the wall, I clutch my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. I just want to go home, and sleep, andwake up when this is all a distant memory. My eyes skim the living room once more, as if I can pull a lifeline out of thin air, when I notice something blinking above the TV. I narrow my eyes, realizing it’s a camera. The fucker is filming me. I flip him the bird and push myself up on weary legs.I’ll give you something to look at asshole. So, I start rummaging through his shit.

His music collection is to be expected. Nothing in there after the eighties and it’s all alphabetized. Not creepy at all. The walls are covered in framed, old posters, and there isn’t a speck of dust to be found in any nook or cranny. I skip his bedroom because I’ve been there already, and know it’s organized to the point where it looks like a room out of a show home rather than one someone actually lives in.

But what’s behind door number two? Torture room, perhaps? I turn the knob and am met with slight resistance, like it’s jammed or locked. So I shove my shoulder into it, budging it open.Hmm. This room looks a little more normal. It’s still cleaner than my house has ever been, but there’s some life to it. I walk in slowly, taking it all in.

A computer desk with a few monitors and an expensive looking gaming tower sits to the right of the room. Filing cabinets and bookshelves are on the opposite wall. There are framed pictures amongst the books, again organized alphabetically. I move in front of it to get a closer look. Most look to be old family photos. A picture of a young woman holding a baby. Another with the same woman, slightly older, helping a boy ride a bike. But then I find one to the top right that puzzles me. It’s my eighth grade graduation picture. My entire class is lined up outside, each of us in fancy dresses and suits.

I pull the frame down from the shelf, examining it closer, my finger sweeping over the photo. I’m in the middle row in a velvet, plum colored dress with a matching silk sash. My hair isup with tendrils falling around my face. I remember my friends and I went to get our hair and makeup done that day, and my dad bought me a corsage with lilac roses and sweet peas.

I was so young, and my parents still thought the world of me. That I was going to follow in their footsteps, make a difference. Be a doctor, or lawyer, or teacher. Not a cake decorator at a local grocery store who lives alone in a subpar apartment building with her cat. A tear slides down my cheek, splashing the photo. The pressure was too much. To live up to their expectations. My mother would berate me and belittle me for everything. I was never good enough. I was never smart enough or skinny enough. I just didn’t fit the bubble gum image they created, so I left that role for my brother, who was all too happy to oblige.

But why the hell does Noah have my graduation picture?

Chapter Fourteen

Frankie

I’ve nearly chewed a hole in my cheek by the time Noah returns. I’m sitting on his couch, now changed out of his t-shirt and in my own clothing, with the grad picture sitting in my lap. His eyes collide with mine as soon as he opens the door. A knot of anger and fear twists my insides. How long has he been stalking me? How long have I gone about my life completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching me?

I open my mouth to say something when I hear a familiarmeow.Instantly, I sit up and look over the back of the couch. In Noah’s hand hangs a cat carrier. I rush to him and drop to my knees. “Oh my God, Cosmos.” I look up at Noah, narrowing my eyes to slits. “You didn’t hurt my fucking cat, did you?”

His lips twitch, lowering the carrier to the floor so I can get Cosmos out. As soon as the metal door is open, he runs towards me, a giant mass of black fur nudging me with his head. I run my hand over him from head to tail and he begins to purr, rubbing against me affectionately.

“How did you get him? He was with my neighbor.” I twist my body to look at Noah, who is leaning against the back of the couch, watching our exchange.

“I can be persuasive.” He shrugs, and I don’t know what to do with this. It’s like a constant temperature change with him. Cosmos starts kneading my pants, desperate for more attention.

“Did you enjoy the self-guided tour?” he asks, his voice laced with sarcasm…and maybe a hint of humor? “I especially enjoyed when you flipped me off.”

I feel a little smug about that one. I rise from the floor, Cosmos at my heels. “Yeah, about that tour. I came across some interesting stuff.”

“Did you now?” Noah is at the sink, filling a bowl of water. Leaning down, he sets it next to a matching one, grabbing the bag of cat food and filling that, too. Cosmos immediately abandons me for the man with the food. He gives the cat a few quick scratches, then rises to look at me.

Walking back to the living room, I swipe the picture from the couch and thrust it towards him. “Why do you have my graduation picture?”

He stalks near, taking the photo from my hand and examining it. “That’s my grad pic.” His eyes find mine.

I whip my hand out to grab it back, but he pulls away.

“No, it’s not,” I snort, looking up at him incredulously. What game is he playing here?

“Yeah, it is, that’s me, right there.” He holds the frame out, his finger on a boy in the back row.

“No, it’s not. That’s a guy named James. He transferred to our school midway through eighth grade.” Who does he think he is, claiming to be someone else? James was a poor kid who transferred to our school and was bullied mercilessly all throughout high school.

“Yeah, mymiddlename is Noah.” He looks down at me, his brows creased, as if I’m the one off my rocker here.

How? James was a skinny little nerd who hid in the stairwell between classes. He wasn’t all of this…muscles and brawn and broodiness.

I look closer at the photo. He’s tall and lanky with a suit too big for him, likely because it was all his mom could afford. James never had a lot of flashy things. In the picture he has glasses but they’re not the same. These ones are round and sit a little crooked on his nose, but then it all comes together. I see the familiar blue eyes, the same midnight hair. A current of old memories that had been lost to time pulls me under.

“You have something stuck to your locker.” Tess points out as we near our lockers to grab our lunches. It’s Valentine’s Day, eighth grade, and while most act like they’re too cool for this day now, they’re secretly hoping someone wants to be their Valentine. Maybe ask them to the dance.

The pink envelope has my name scrawled across it in perfect penmanship and my heart races so fast I can hear it in my ears. A few people are looking cause the Valentine is like a beacon in the hall, calling everyone’s attention towards me.

“Open it,” Tess squeals with delight, skipping like it’s for her and not me. I pull back the tape that holds it there, taking a moment to admire how beautifully they wrote my name, like they took care with each and every letter. Turning it over, I slip my index finger into a corner to break the seal, carefully running it along the seam so I don’t rip it.

I don’t have a crush or anyone I’m particularly interested in, not like Tess who practically drools over Connor Mckinney, but I can’t deny butterflies aren’t swarming in my belly right now as I peel the envelope open to reveal a card inside.

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