It's Terribly Perfect.

12. It's Terribly Perfect: Scared.

I was silent, staring at the screen of my phone, bewildered. Bumps rose up all over my skin, a shiver going down my spine.

He’s here somewhere, watching me, listening to my conversations. Not only does he know where I live, but he knows my number. He knows everything he has to do something even worse to me. Would he do the same as Skarlette’s attacker? I gulped at the thought, placing my phone in my pocket again and staring at my hands.

“Everything okay?” Luke asked with concerned eyes. I avoided looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s fine. But I have to get home,” I responded, my voice barely audible. He nodded, standing up and leaving some money on the table. As we were about to exit the small, vintage coffee shop, I spotted a familiar face at the front bar.

“Ryan?” I questioned, taking a step towards him. He turned around, smiling when he saw me, the fluttery sensation entering my stomach. “I thought you were on lock down?”

“I was, still am technically, but my mom wanted caffeine so she sent me here,” he explained.

“Oh.” He noticed my hands shaking, his brows pulling up.

“Are you okay?” His eyes darted to Luke, then back to me. I nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. It seemed like he was the only one to ever see through the act.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I told him.

“Okay,” he responded slowly. Something in his eyes told me I’d have to explain later.

Luke and I waked to his shiny vehicle. He kept shooting glances at me the whole ride home though I stared out the window, my phone feeling unusually heavy in my pocket.

Once we pulled into my driveway, I gave him a small smile. Before I could hurry out of his truck and through the door, he spoke up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he inquired.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really,” I insisted, looking down. There was a long pause, his face stern as he thought.

“Do you care about him?” he finally asked. I looked up at him suddenly, my expression puzzled.

“Who?”

“Ryan.”

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing friend-“

“No, Kasynne. I mean, do you really care about him? Do you love him?” His voice was hushed now as his hands gripped the steering wheel tight.

Do I love Ryan? I suppose I have love for him, but it could only be a friendly type of love, right? Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, absolutely wonderful. He’s funny, charming, witty, and overall very, well, sweet.

But I don’t love Ryan, I can’t love him. I’m not even completely sure what love is to be honest.

“Why would you think that?”

“Don’t avoid the question,” he said abruptly. His demanding began to irritate me, my nose scrunching up as I crossed my arms.

“Even if I did have feelings for him or even love him, how would that be any of your business?” I hissed.

“Don’t you get it, Kasynne? I-“he stopped himself.

“You what?” He gazed at me now, his eyes soft and kind as he gently put a hand on my cheek.

“Because I love you,” he whispered. I didn’t have a chance to respond or do anything before he pressed his lips against mine.