Page 12 of Never Give Up

“No,” I snap at Poppy. “I shouldn’t. Nothing happened to me, and I’m extremely rested.” But I’m fighting off a yawn because I didn’t manage to shut my eyes until almost nine in the morning.

“You don’t need to work today. I’m sure they can find someone to cover your shift. After all, you’re beingstalked. And you need to make sure your security cameras and shit get installed.” Poppy stares at me over a cup of coffee.

We’re sitting at my kitchen table with Brandi. All three of us are in our pajamas.

I was ambushed, I decided. That’s what they did. They ambushed me and I didn’t have time to hide from the onslaught of attention that I don’t want or need.

First by Brandi, who’d found me sleeping on the sofa with all the lights on sometime before ten a.m. She woke me up by jumping on me.

Second by Poppy, who rushed over the moment Brandi called her after finding out what happened the night before.

At first they let me sit there on the couch in silence. But now? Coffee and questions and I don’t want to discuss what happened. And what comes next.

Not that my friends got the memo. Or if they did, they chose to ignore it in favor of annoying the shit out of me.

“This isn’t the first time something weird happened, either, now that I think about it.” Brandi sips her coffee contemplatively. “The back door’s been open a few times when I get home from work, and the kitchen window is open every once in a while.” Brandi’s soothing voice usually has a calming effect on me, but not with those words. “But I just figured it was you when you left for work and forgot to take care of it before you took off.”

“Or maybe you did it.”

Brandi snorts. “Nope. And you know it.”

The two of us share a look, one that makes it clear that neither of us actually thinks the other is responsible.

“So who was it then?” Brandi asks.

“Maybe some kids were fooling around? I don’t know.” I don’t want to admit that I might have a stalker, even though the truth settles inside me, making my blood run cold and my fingers tremble uneasily because Brandi is right. Neither one of us left a window open, let alone an entire freaking door.

“Girl.” Poppy squeezes my hand.

“You’ve got a stalker,” Brandi says. “I’m sorry, but we all know it. The only thing that matters is what comes next.”

I look across the table at my friend and my roommate. They might be polar opposites, but they are exactly the same when it comes to the stubbornness that’s keeping them there, staring at me with determination.

Brandi squeezes my hand. “I didn’t even think of putting all the random shit that’s happened together until today, but it’s all odd when you look at the big picture.”

There have been a lot of weird things happening, and I can’t deny it. I’ve noticed some of my underwear and clothes missing in the past few months. But one or two pairs and a missing shirt had me thinking it was just the black hole that lives in every dryer in the universe.

But what happened in my room. What happened last night? I—

“I don’t have a stalker.” Saying it out loud doesn’t make it true. “I’m not the type of woman who people… stalk or follow or anything like that.”

And the other two women probably need a few gallons of denial to wash my words down with if the looks on their faces are anything to go by.

“Maya.” Poppy pauses. “I know I’m not helping anything by saying this, but you are. Sometimes I forget that you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

Arguing with her is useless. “Fine, you win. I’ll call the director and let Louise know I’m taking a personal day. And I promise to get some sleep. Now, will you leave me alone?”

Poppy shakes her head. “Not even close. So go get comfortable on that couch and get some rest.”

“That couch sucks.” Brandi and I speak at the same time.

“Just get some sleep.” Poppy stands up and places a hand on either side of my face, then she kisses my head and whispers, “You really need to talk to them about this. It doesn’t have to be Brian. It shouldn’t be him. But tell one of them; tell Jake about the other things that have happened.”

“I will tomorrow. I just want one night of peace, to process everything on my own.” What I really want, more than anything, is a night where I don’t think about Brian, and I didn’t even get that because some creepy panty-sniffer decided to break into my house.

Poppy walks out, her quiet footsteps echoing through the house, and I can’t help but release a sigh of relief when the front door closes.

“Well, as much as I’d like to be lazy with you all day after the security cameras get installed, I’m going to head out becausesome of ushave jobs.” Brandi laughs at herself. “But if you need me, you should call. Or better yet—call 9-1-1.” The last bit, although said with a smile, is entirely serious. “You know where the machete is and how to use it. Don’t forget.”

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