Page 7 of Devoted
I thought Vivian was going to be occupied backstage for the rest of the night. Is this really how I’m going to be discovered?
I’ve been taking my work and doing my leisurely sketching in Vivian’s office whenever she’s not here so I can be surrounded byher. My excuse to anyone who questions me is that I’d rather have Evelyn in the proper office so she may focus on her more elaborate work. Most people don’t bat an eye when I’m in here now, butshewasn’t supposed to know.
Once all my things are gathered in my bag and I’m only three steps away from my escape, the door suddenly swings inward, and I barely avoid a bloody nose. Though I know very well I deserve it.
Instead, there is a disgruntled woman a mere inch away from me. Her neck needs to crane up to meet my eye. My observation of her gets cut short when she brings up her concern with her moniker.
I’m surprised I can even respond to her questions with the way I am mesmerized by her. I must have said something wrong for her to bore her eyes into me like that. It’s as if the green flecks in her hazel eyes shine brighter with every word she chastises me with.
My palms begin to itch because of her proximity. This beautiful creature isangrywith me, and here I am, thinking of the ways I could use my mouth to shut her up.
The mention of her friendships with others stirs envy in me. Not because she has friends, but because Ican’tbe her friend like they are. Ican’tbe anything for her. At most, I can be the asshole boss who was once involved with her older brother. That, in itself, should be enough reason for me to stay away from her, but Ican’t.
The conversation continues, and I keep saying the wrong thing and angering her even further. If anger is the only strong emotion I can have from her, then I am going to relish the way her cheeks pink with frustration.
“Excuse me?” she snaps.
Oh, no.I’ve done it. The pink in her cheeks is now a flushed red as she snaps back at me. She looks as if she is readying up to really put me in my place, and I feel my cock stir in my pants at the idea of it.
I need to leave the room. Grabbing my portfolio, I place it strategically in front of my tightening pants before bursting out of the room.
“No, you’ll have to excuseme.”
I march out of her office even as she yells after me.
As completely insane as this might be of me, the night isn’t over for us. I’ll be seeing her once she gets home.
There’s an oak tree outside Vivian’s apartment window. What is typically a purveyor of shade and privacy during the day has become a sanctuary of mine during these nights. I’ve limited myself to enjoying my new favorite activity only a few times a week. I wouldn’t want to build an obsession out of it, after all.
The sturdy oak tree is something I’ve grown familiar with, even on the darkest of nights when there isn’t a star in the sky. What I’m not accustomed to is the tricky texture of said tree in the rain. It wouldn’t have killed me to check the weather app earlier today, but I fear the mistake of foregoing the research might kill me now. Still, I need to see her.
Using my thighs to steady me, I inelegantly scoot my ass along the thick tree branch with the best view of Vivian’s craft room window. My pants keep catching on the jagged extra growths from the branch, causing me to hiss with every scratch. On a usual night of watching her, when it isn’t pouring rain, I navigate this tree with ease. Tonight, I will be lucky if I don’t fall to my death.
Vivian will be here in five minutes. I know it because her schedule is ingrained in my brain. After a show, she stays back to assist the dancers with storing their costumes and check to see what items need to be repaired for the next show. Once finished, she carpools home with Emma, her roommate, who’s also a mixologist at The Garden of Eden.
At first, I thought there might have been something romantic between the two, but after the first few nights of stalking their apartment, I quickly learned Emma has a longtime boyfriend.I also learned that I don’t like him being around. Both women seem uncomfortable in his presence. Hypocritical, I know.
I’m sure they would be entirely uncomfortable knowing of my presence just outside their windows, but at least I am not an arrogant asshole. An overheard phone conversation from Caleb clued me into his wonderful personality when he stepped outside one day to take a ‘work’ call, which he lied about. I’ve also heard the ingrate make snide remarks about both Emma and Vivian.
Ones I’m not easy to forget nor willing to forgive.
Not a single soul knows about my stalking, and no one will ever find out. I’m defeated in knowing that I can never be anything to her except what others already see of me: a boss and a bastard. I’m not sure what exactly drives my need to mess with Vivian at work. In part, it’s because it’s one of the only ways I can act with her without arousing any suspicion. I also thoroughly revel in the way my name comes from her mouth with such passion when she’s annoyed with me, ire and all.
“Hey, do we have any pizza rolls left?” my ire asks Emma. They’re arm in arm, walking down the path to their tucked-away apartment. Their silhouettes are all I can really see from this high up, but I could recognize their voices anywhere by now. The darkness of their walking path is concerning. I’ll have to get in touch with the property management to add more light.
Who knows what dangers can lurk in the dark?
“If we do, you’re gonna be sharing them, babe,” Emma replies, and they burst out into a small laugh. With a loud click of a dead bolt, I know they’ve opened their front door. I lose sight of them for a second, seeing as I’m on the opposite side of their living area and kitchen, until they open a window and their voices float out to me again.
Their apartment is located in an older part of town in an area known for its prewar buildings and artistic flair. Itexplains the odd layout of their apartment. It’s actually a two-story townhome, with Emma’s bedroom upstairs and Vivian’s downstairs.
The odd part is the double staircases. A main staircase leads up to the second floor like normal. Vivian, however, has a secret staircase in her lower-level bedroom that leads up to her craft room upstairs. The craft room is where she spends hours, that should be spent sleeping, drawing, painting, sewing, or whatever inspiration calls to her at the moment. And it’s where I watch her most nights.
There’s only been one night—last week—when I had built the courage to peer into her bedroom window. I couldn’t see much. The curtains blocking the window are thick and opaque, and she keeps them closed at night—a smart girl.
A weird thing to think, but I’m thankful for those curtains. Only so many boundaries can be crossed before my stalking really makes me the villain.
Suddenly, I hear a faint scratching behind me, coming from the trunk of the tree. Frantically turning around, I see the outline of some small furry creature, but I’m having a hard time making it out in the dark.
