Page 10 of Crave

I’m scared shitless, yet so intrigued.

“And that is where, miss?”

I give the driver my address and mull over what is happening for a moment before asking, “What else did he tell you? I’m assuming it was a he.”

“Yes, miss. It was a man,” he pauses for a moment as he navigates traffic. “And your name and a brief description of what you look like.”

“His name?”

“Sorry, miss, but dispatch didn’t pass that on if he gave it.” He eyes me in the rearview mirror before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” I sputter the lie, realizing that my line of questioning is probably raising suspicions about my safety. “I just wanted to know which of my friends to thank for fetching the cab.”

He nods in understanding, and we drive in silence the remainder of the way to my apartment. When he pulls toward the curb, I swipe my card to pay. He drives away the moment I step out and shut the door, confirming my intuition that he wasn’t a threat. Standing on the sidewalk, I look up at the street-facing window of my apartment and take solace in the fact the lights are off.

He could just be hiding in the dark.

That was an unnecessary thought as I press my keys into the lock.

Unlocking the door, I step inside and redo the deadbolt. Holding my keys between my fingers and my heart pounding in my chest, I walk through the apartment, flipping on lights and checking behind closed doors. The fact that I’m not certain if I am relieved or disappointed to find myself alone is a little concerning.

No, Lex, that’s really fucking concerning.

Walking back through the apartment, I ensure all of the windows are locked before turning off the lights and heading into my bedroom to change. After putting on pajamas and washing my face, I climb into bed with a book in hopes that reading will temporarily take my mind off whatever the fuck this is that’s happening.

It’s futile. I read the same two paragraphs at least ten times and still have no comprehension of the words before me. Instead, my brain is reeling, trying to figure out this situation.

Who is this guy?

Is this a joke? A sick joke, but a joke.

Maybe it’s an ex?

Grabbing my phone, I pull up a few different apps and begin stalking the few guys that I ended things with. Hopefully I’m not incorrectly assuming guys that dumped me aren’t now stalking me. A brief search of Josh, Marc, and Darius quickly rules out all of them. It’s so outside of their personalities, and all three of them appear to be in serious relationships. My thoughts return back to thinking this is some fucked up prank, and I text Kyle.

What happened with you tonight?

I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to ghost me mid date?

Is this some sort of sick joke, because it’s not funny.

I wait a minute for a response before letting out an exasperated grumble and toss my phone to the bed.

Buzz.

Ripping my phone from the bed sheets, I’m surprised when it isn’t Kyle.

UNKNOWN

Kyle is a little tied up at the moment, but this definitely is not a joke

Did you get home safe mi reina?

Are you fucking serious right now?

I type a response, but my finger hovers over the send button. As though I am unable to control my thumb, it taps the button.

Yes

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