Page 24 of Watching You
And now he’s in my phone.
In my planner.
In my room.
I don’t know what he wants.
I don’t know why he’s doing this.
But I know one thing—Kane Fischer is no longer ignoring me. And I don’t think he ever will again.
He’s introduced chaos into the perfection I’ve so carefully constructed.Will the world around me crumble without my routines, or will I?
The thought slams into me harder than I expect. It’s not the world I’m afraid of losing. It’sme. The version of myself I’ve built brick by brick, breath by breath, through color-coded calendars and folded sweaters and silent rituals no one else sees. That version keeps me safe. Predictable. Contained.
But Kane doesn’t follow rules.
He doesn’t knock.
He doesn’t ask.
He enters quietly, deliberately, and leaves fingerprints on everything I thought was mine. My pillow. My planner. My phone. He’s not just watching me. He’s rewriting me. And the worst part?
Some part of me wants him to.
Because when he touches my world, it doesn’t just shake.
It shifts.
And I don’t know if I want to put it back the way it was.
The door swings open just after four, and Kinsley breezes in with her usual energy, bag slung over one shoulder, iced coffee in hand, earbuds still in. She doesn’t notice the tension in the room right away. She never does. She lives loudly. I live tight. But today, I need her noise. I need her presence. I need something that feels like before.
“Hey,” I begin, voice thinner than I want it to be. “Can we do a movie night tonight?”
She pauses mid-sip, blinking at me. “You? Voluntarily watching something that isn’t a documentary about cults or serial killers?”
I try to smile. It doesn’t quite land. “I just… need something familiar.”
Kinsley softens immediately. She kicks off her shoes, tosses her bag onto her bed, and flops down beside me like she’s been waiting for this invitation all week. “Popcorn or chocolate?”
“Both,” I say. “And something stupid. Like, aggressively stupid.”
She grins. “Done.”
We settle into the rhythm easily with blankets, snacks, and the glow of the laptop screen. But my mind won’t stop buzzing. The planner. The pillow. The text. Kane. His name still sits in my phone like a secret I didn’t choose. And now that I’m sitting beside the one person who might actually know something, I can’t stop myself.
“Hey,” I trail off, keeping my voice casual, eyes on the screen. “Can I ask you something?”
Kinsley hums. “Shoot.”
“Kane’s been… weird lately, right?”
She snorts. “Define weird. He’s always been a little emotionally constipated.”
“No, I mean…” I hesitate. “Has he said anything about me?”
That gets her attention. She turns, one eyebrow raised. “About you?”
