Page 11 of Linger

“Okay, fine,” I said on a heaving sigh as I dropped onto the corner of my desk. “But he—he’s complicated. The entire thing is complicated and weird, and you’re probably gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Oh, now I’m really interested,” Cora said, straightening on the couch as Rorie listed her head and asked, “Complicated how? Is he married?” The last was asked on a whisper.

“No,” I said on a horrified breath, only to realize I didn’t know. “Oh God, I...I actually don’t know. But I don’t think so.”

Cora and Rorie shared a look, but neither of them commented. They just waited, more eager than before, for me to continue.

“I met him at a bar—The Jack?”

“Really the only bar worth going to around here,” Rorie murmured, prompting me to go on.

I nodded as I remembered that night better than I should’ve been able to, considering how much we’d drunk. “He came up to me and gave this pickup line that was so ridiculous, but he was funny and charming in the way he delivered it. We ended up spending hours at the bar, talking and drinking. And then...” I pressed a hand to my cheek that was so, so hot because all this was so unlike me.

“Well, I think we know the and then,” Cora said with a smirk.

“I don’t do this,” I said quickly. “I’ve never met a guy at a bar, and I wasn’t there to meet anyone—honestly. It was just that day...” I hesitated, momentarily caught off guard when I realized the pain that came with that day was dulled—soothed—by that unexpected night and the unbelievable month that followed.

By him.

“Anyway, I’ve never even taken a guy back to my place after the first date, let alone just after meeting him,” I went on. “But, God, it was the most intense night of my life. But when he was leaving that night, he did and said the oddest thing.”

“Wait, he left?” Rorie asked, sounding sad at the thought. “No...”

“There’s no way you’ve been flying around here because of one night,” Cora added, looking just as bummed.

I slanted my head before quickly shaking it. But my tone didn’t match their excitement when they realized it hadn’t ended there. “Anyway, he did this thing that sounds ridiculous. But when he did it, it was—well, it was incredibly hot. He grabbed my hand and sort of smelled my wrist.”

“He smelled your wrist,” Cora muttered, voice deadpan.

“Trust me.” Twisting one of my hands so my palm was up, I drew a finger along the same path Diggs always took. Down my forearm, just over my wrist, and so achingly slow.

“Oh,” Rorie whispered, blinking sluggishly. “Oh, I think I like this.”

“Uh-huh,” Cora agreed. “I take back everything I was thinking before. But you said it was odd?”

“Well, when he did it, he said he would find me. And I thought it might be another one of his charmingly funny, corny lines. And then he came back...”

The girls sat there, watching me. Waiting for me to continue.

But I didn’t know how because this was the part that made me feel insane. This was the part that made me wonder about a hundred times each day why I hadn’t called the police or gotten a security system installed.

“That night?” Rorie asked when I didn’t go on.

“A couple nights later,” I admitted, voice a shamed whisper. “He was just suddenly there. In my apartment. In my bed. Waking me up.”

“What the hell?” Cora asked, looking over at Rorie when she reared back—eyes wide and hands up as if she no longer knew what to do with them.

“Wait,” Rorie said but didn’t continue. It sort of looked like she didn’t know how to anymore.

“Again, what the hell?” Cora snapped. “He broke into your apartment?”

“I know, I know. I—”

“Did you call the cops?” she demanded.

“No, I...God, I sound insane. The next day, I wondered why I didn’t. Why I didn’t scream or demand he leave or anything. But it...when he shows up, it never feels terrifying or creepy or—”

“Wait, shows up? This keeps happening?” Cora asked and then twisted to yell at Rorie, “She said shows.”

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