Page 82 of Love Me Stalk Me
"You smell good," she mumbles, swaying just slightly. "Like… leather, and wood, and…" She squints, trying to summon the right word. "Mulch."
"Mulch?"
"Yeah," she nods, very seriously. "You know, like when it rains and the mulch is fresh and it smells kinda spicy and earthy and… good?"
I’m still stuck onmulch.
"And pure man. Or maybe pure sex. Yeah. That."
I freeze.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I don't react.
Because if I do, I might do something very, very stupid.
I step back and shut the door.
Breathe, Callahan.
Then I get into the driver's seat, start the car, and drive her home.
I don't need directions.
Obviously.
I've known where she lives for a while now.
Still, as I take the familiar turns toward Hoboken,guiding her car through the Lincoln Tunnel that connects Manhattan to New Jersey, she stirs in the seat, murmuring sleepily. The lights of the tunnel flash overhead in a rhythmic pattern, casting alternating shadows and illumination across her face.
"Wait," she slurs, blinking slowly at the windshield. "How do you know where I live?"
I should lie.
I should say something generic, non-threatening, non-psychotic.
But she's too drunk to remember this conversation.
And maybe—just maybe—I like the idea of telling her the truth and getting away with it.
So I glance at her, lips curving just slightly.
"I know a lot of things about you, pretty girl."
She hums, smiling sleepily.
"Of course you do," she mumbles, like it makes perfect sense.
Then she closes her eyes again.
And I keep driving.
We emerge from the tunnel, the Manhattan skyline glittering behind us across the Hudson River. I navigate the streets of Hoboken, where brownstones and apartment buildings line the sidewalks. The area still retains traces of its Italian-American heritage, with family-owned delis and restaurants nestled between newer developments.
I pull into her parking lot and cut the engine. I just sit there and breathe, staring ahead. Then I glance over at Izzy. She's completely slouched in the seat, her head resting against the window, her breath fogging up the glass.
I exhale through my nose. "Come on, drunk girl. Let's get you inside."
