Find Me

11 • Stalking

I regret wearing my jacket the moment Mom and I step outside. The sun's rays are scorching against my skin, and I soon begin to pant from the heat. For only being three hours away from my home, the climate has changed drastically. I'm used to cooler days and jeans, not extremely warm days and shorts.

As we walk, there is no chatter like I had thought there would be. My shoulders slump after a while, realizing that she isn't going to bust into a long speech about Laura or--him. Lord only knows that I cannot handle that at the moment.

The sun is still coming up over the mountains that surround the small town, even at eight in the morning. It's the only thing I can focus on besides panicking about that fact that I'm outside. I hadn't really been out in the open for the past week, so this is nerve-wracking. Even though I'm wearing a coat, I still feel exposed.

I glance around warily, waiting for the moment when I see the hooded man staring at me, maybe even coming for me. I know for a fact that my mom wouldn't be able to fend off a full-grown man with her height of only five-seven if the opportunity was there.

"How much longer do you want to walk for?" Mom asks, finally breaking the silence. I shrug, turning my head toward her.

"However long you want to go for."

It's quiet again after that.

As I walk, I think about telling my mom about that rose for the second time today. I would have already if I wasn't worried about her freaking out. Fighting myself for five minutes, I finally decide to tell her. Only, just as I'm about to open my mouth to speak, she cuts me off.

"I'm going to the washroom," she announces, nodding to an outhouse standing alone in a park we're passing by. My eyebrows furrow in alarm. There's no one there, so if she left me alone standing outside and he came...

"Are you sure--" she cuts me off, once again. "--don't worry, I'll be less than a minute. Just stay right here and don't move."

I swear, if I'm murdered while she's taking a piss, I'm going to blame her.

"Fine," I mutter. She gives me a small smile, as if reassuring me, before heading off. I fight the urge to follow her, but I decide to stay. Mom wouldn't want me hovering by the outhouse.

I watch her step inside and lock the door. My shoulders slump down as I turn, sighing loudly.

That's when I get plowed into by a boy with shorter black hair and dark green eyes, who I find out later had been listening to music at full blast and not paying attention to where he was going. As I fall, the boy makes a grab for me, and nearly misses. I grip the sleeve of his jacket with my sweaty hand--which isn't all that attractive--but instead of pulling me up, he falls too. The least graceful part of the whole thing is that he falls right on top of me, which almost knocks the air out of my lungs.

Just for a second, we lock eyes. I swallow slowly as I think about the intimate position we're in--with his leg in between mine--and how close his face is. I feel an instant pull to him, and I don't know why. Maybe it's hormones?