Her List of Kisses

Chapter 2- Stalkers and Sherlock Holmes

That night I find Will on Facebook.

I offhandedly probe my mother for his surname and then grab my phone and key his name into the first social network I can load.

William Falcon. Seventeen, eighteen in November. Student at Mayville Academy (half an hour's drive from my village, not that I spent time working that out or anything) Works at the 'Fry A Human' sun bed and tanning company (although, to be honest, with a name like 'Fry A Human' the company either pays the minimum wage or is absolutely fake).

In his profile picture Will is posing like a girl, but nobody else seems to realise the idiocy of the action and he has somehow racked up 60 likes. His cover image is of himself and his friends, hopelessly drunk and failing to perform a human pyramid.

My cursor hovers over the 'friend request' button and I pause for a second. I know fully well that I look like a stalker. Usually I avoid these situations at all costs. To be frank, I would rather plunge my face into a toilet bowl full of spiders than spend an evening looking up hot guys that are way out of my league.

However, when the boy in question happens to be Will Falcon, and Will Falcon happens to be in possession of a very embarrassing, private list, then I can afford to make an exception.

I send the request.

Being the immensely impatient person that I am, after a few minutes I am agitated and bored of waiting for him to accept. To busy myself, I can't help but browse through his photos.

You can call me a stalker if you can deny ever doing the same thing to someone yourself.

Nobody? I thought so.

In one image, Will is chugging a beer with about six other guys, his hair styled, his eyes red in the light of a club. In another, he is dressed in sports kit, crouched as if to begin a race. Behind his lean legs, a sign announces 'Mayville Runners!' I keep scrolling through his uploaded life: parties and events and his high school prom. I try not to swoon at a particularly nice picture of him in a tuxedo, and have to breathe steadily to slow down my heart. I try- and fail- to fight the jealousy that rises within me when I see him lip-locking with a beautiful long-haired brunette who must be a size minus-ten.

What is going on with me?I ask myself. I have seen this boy a grand total of one time!

A new notification pops up.

'William Falcon accepted your friend request. Write on Will's timeline.'

I close my eyes. What am I doing? Should I message him?

Making my decision based mostly on his possession of the list and only a little on the envy of the brunette slut, my fingers tap dance over the keys.

Me: Give it back.

Him: Well hello to you too, Chloe!

Me: This is no time for greetings. I don't want to talk to you. I want it back.

Him: Perhaps you have this all wrong- I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about ;)

Damn that little flirty face!! I hate the so-called 'texting code'- it makes everyone over-analyse everything. One thing I do like, though, is that he replies quickly and in full sentences; none of this colloquial slang of 'u's and '2's.

Me: Do I have to spell it out for you? My diary. The one you stole.

Him: Wrong again, hell-dweller! A diary has pages of secrets, and this thing? Well, it's hardly even interesting ;)

Me: I knew you stole it!

Him: Wow, you're a regular Sherlock Holmes -.-

Great. So now he's even sarcastic online! I cannot handle this boy. Why haven't they invented teleporters in computer screens yet? That would make life so much easier for me: instead of all this unnecessary teasing, I could just dive through my laptop and beat him senseless.

Me: Okay, Will. I don't know what exactly I did to deserve this, but I'm going to make sure it never happens again. Just give it back!

Him: Calm your farm, babe. You'll get it back ;)

Babe? What right has he to call me babe? I want to hate it, but I can’t deny that a little shock buzzes through me and settles in my stomach. I wonder if he called the brunette babe. I read his message again, and then once more, before replying.

Me: Thank you

Him: You'll get it back…when we've finished with your little list ;) x

My cheeks blaze at his implication. And I swear, that one little kiss at the end sends my hands into a frenzy! They're all clammy and nervous; I can barely type a reply.

Me: This is stupid! I wrote that when I was like thirteen!

Him: Thirteen year old you was cute- granted, a little risky for her age, but I like that ;)

Me: Thirteen year old me was a naive, ignorant, selfish little twat who should never have lived, let alone written a diary! Now give. It. Back.

Him: Touched a nerve there, did I? ;D x

I don't reply. My thoughts have spiralled downhill, thinking about being younger again. Evil memories awaken and I strain to suppress tears.

Him: Chloe?

Him: Still there? X

Him: Oh come on, don't be pissed already! We've barely even started!

Him: Alright, dammit! I'm sorry. There. -.-

I sigh.

Me: So you'll return it?

Him: Ofc, you stubborn girl! I'll return it straight away…

Him: …right after I've made copies ;)

Me: What can I say to make you stop?!?

Him: Say you'll quit being so uptight and have a little fun? X

How dare he call me uptight? His words actually hurt, though I don't know why, and that extra kiss just stabs me a little more.

Me: Whatever. I'm done with this.

Him: *sigh* you’re going to be hard work, I can tell x

Me: Oh, I fully intend to be!

Him: Well fortunately for you I like a challenge ;) See you next week x

Will signs off before I can reply, and I lean back in my chair, feeling mentally drained. Deleting the conversation seems like the safest option, especially as my friends have a bad habit of stealing my phone. But at the same time, part of me wants to read back over them once or twice. You know, calculate hidden meanings and all that.

And to keep a boy on my 'recent contacts' list so I don't feel like such a loser.

Contenting myself, I swear that I will find my diary cover before anyone else hears about the list, that I will somehow figure out the best way to get it back into the safe and sizzling fingers of the fire.

I'll show Will who's bloody Sherlock Holmes.

****

(author's note)- So, what do you think of the story so far? Opinions on Will? On Chloe? Next chapter is the beginning of the kisses- vote and comment if you want a faster upload! :)