Tik Tok Stalker

Chap 6-First Sight

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My knees knock and I drop to the floor of my hotel room. Cole's beaming face grins back up at me as he holds up his passport. Here. He's coming here, to Los Angeles.

I checked into my humble hotel an hour ago and have been settling in, viewing Cole's updates throughout the day. This one threw me. He hasn't posted a new Tik Tok in days but I staved off my withdrawal by watching his Instagram stories repeatedly. Picking up any scrap I could get like a stray dog. I had wondered if he would be attending the gamer conference in LA this week but he never mentioned it until now. There were two things Cole Thatcher, my Cole Thatcher, was known for: being a skilled gamer...and posting shirtless videos.

My heart pounded against my rib cage while I frantically checked flight arrival times for LAX until I found what I was looking for. His flight from Berlin, Germany would land this afternoon. Until then, my love.
***
After my pre-op appointment I brave the notorious LA traffic and quickly park in a commuter lot at LAX. Cole's flight is landing in an hour and I'm not the only girl waiting for him. A jolt of jealousy shoots through me when I see dozens of pre-teens, teens, and women waiting with signs and buzzing with excitement.

Not that I want to get too close. I'm not ready for him. In a way, I've been ready for years, but in my current state, he won't take a second look at me. Surgeries commence at the end of the week. In three weeks, I'll be getting close to a dozen tattoos to cover up the scars left by my darling dead husband. I still need to take dance, self-defense, and bartending classes among others. Not to mention, my German is still rusty and I don't want to get involved with Cole until I can whisper the dirty things I want to do to him in his native language.

After mingling and eavesdropping on his fans, someone squeals and I know it means he's coming. The mob moves as a school of fish toward the arrivals gate.

My sweaty hands slip as I wring them, craning my neck to see him in the flesh for the first time, one of many firsts I've experienced in regard to Cole Thatcher. The first Tik Tok of his that showed up on my For You Page hooked me immediately. He was fresh out of the shower with his phone camera angled toward the mirror, shirtless. He smoldered, singing the lyrics to Tom Rosenthal's song: It's Ok. His smile grew as the video ended. The algorithm knew I needed it.

And that was it. It filled me with hope for the first time in a long time. I spent the rest of the night learning everything I could about the man known as the Golden Boy Gamer. A Wunderkind. His favorite color is orange. Favorite food? Double cheeseburgers with fries. He loves sunrises but never wakes up early enough so he only aims to watch sunsets. Enjoys a cold beer, of German origin. He's an only child, has a degree in Information Technology and was on People Magazine's sexiest people of the year list. He prefers brunettes with a pear-shaped body and upturned nose, hence my appointment for a BBL, rhinoplasty, and the box of hair dye in my hotel
room. He loves his mom and the movie Never Back Down. And I love him.

Jayson had been particularly intolerable that first day. He came home drunk after golf and day-drinking with Stephen and half the officers on the force. I thought I could keep him placated and distracted with a hot meal and another cold beer but he was unstoppable. Jayson called me names and tore my favorite sundress from my body. He didn't even bother to eat the meal I'd prepared, that he'd demanded I prepare every night by 6:00 pm, as he shoved me over the stove, burning my forearm in the process. That's the first scar I'm covering. Sicko.

I push the memory deeper and deeper into the recesses of my mind, disassociating from my horrific past. He's gone and I remind myself that I'm safe as I hug my arms right to my body. That's not who I am anymore. Focus. My heart pounds out of my chest and my Apple Watch, a new purchase thanks to the sale of Jayson's beloved F-150, warns me that my heart rate is abnormally elevated. No kidding. I'm about to be in the same room as the object of my desires for the past year, a reality that seemed unattainable just six months ago.

Cole's megawatt smile enters the room before he does and my knees buckle beneath me while I stifle a squeal. I want to jump into his arms, slide my tongue along those famous teeth and feel them crash against mine in the throes of passion. His pillowy lips are even fuller in person and it takes every ounce of willpower in my aching body to remember that I'm playing the long game.

Act like a fan, get treated like a fan.

I'm no fan.

I'm his soulmate. He just doesn't know it yet.

But that doesn't change the way my body longs to be filled by his. When I finally get my hands on him, I'm going to sink my claws so deep he'll need me to survive.

Cole spends an hour greeting fans and taking photos before he makes his way toward the exit. While it was hard to pry my eyes from his perfect jawline, I'm outside in the street, already waiting in my rental several spaces behind the Lincoln towncar that awaits to bring him to his hotel. I have to know where he's staying.

His driver is quick but I'm quicker, weaving in and out of traffic until he pulls up in front of the Ritz-Carlton. Cole quickly hops out and ducks inside the spacious lobby before I have time to park. My ears ring as a car horn blares, ordering me to move. There's already a crowd of women gathering around the outside of the building so I reluctantly pull forward. I have all the information I need. For now.
                                    ***
After an outfit change and quick dinner at In-and-Out consisting of a lettuce wrapped burger, fries, and a water, I head back to the Ritz. After all, I have dozens of gorgeous social media stars to compete with who were also vying for Cole's attention now that he's single and officially on the market since ended things with his girlfriend three months ago.

Cole's friends joined him in his suite an hour ago to pre-game, or Vorglühen, and that means they're planning a night out which derailed my plans of hitting my hotel gym. I'd established a strict workout schedule now that I was free from my abuser's watchful gaze.

My first con lay ahead of me, dressed in a burgundy suit. I looked the part of someone who is famous-adjacent, not actually famous but friends with famous people, wearing Air Force 1's, shredded baggy jeans, a barely-there white lacy top and slim sunglasses. With my phone plastered to my ear, I stride up, deeply engaged in a faux conversation with a famous friend who I'd never met.

"Good evening, miss. Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton. Are you staying with us?" The bell-hop asks me.

The burger turns in my stomach. As I summon every ounce of confidence I can muster I whirl around and look at him.

With a chuckle, I reply, "Me? No. I'm at the Conrad. I'm meeting a friend downstairs."

I turn to walk and he stops me again.

"Your friend's name, miss?"

"Sadie Wyatt. She's in the penthouse. Need me to call her?"

The middle-aged bell hop with a beer gut glances down at a tablet, assumedly verifying that Sadie is a guest at the hotel. Of course she is. Anyone with an Instagram account knows that the 25-year-old socialite is staying in the penthouse. That's how I found out.

"No, miss, that won't be necessary. Have a wonderful evening." He opens the door for me and I breath a sigh of relief. I'd successfully conned my way into the Ritz-Carlton lobby, usually reserved for patrons and their guests. The first step in the long con for Cole Thatcher's heart.
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IM NERVOUS TO ASK BUT... WHAT DO WE THINK SO FAR???

THINGS GET A BIT DICEY IN THE NEXT
CHAPTER!!!

WHO DO YOU PICTURE WHEN YOU THINK OF COLE THATCHER?
HE'S AN AMALGAM OF A FEW DIFFERENT INFLUENCERS!