“You know she’s fine,” he says. “But you’re not.”
Then, before I can move, he reaches out, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me.
Ah, fuck. Elle was on to something, wasn’t she? She picks up on shit that I don’t. I figured Matt was drunk, but I didn’t think he was this kind of drunk.
I press my fingers into his chest and push him back. “Stop,” I say quietly, licking my lips. My red lipstick is on his face.
“Sorry I…” He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “I just think we could start over.”
I manage a sympathetic smile, not liking where this is going. “You have a girlfriend, Matt.”
“I don’t have to have a girlfriend.”
My expression turns withering. “If you’re hoping that sounds romantic, it doesn’t. Come on, man. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I don’t know what you want,” he says sharply. “Do you even know?”
I blink at him, taken aback. Matt is always so mild-mannered and chill, this is the first time I’ve seen him get cross with me.
“What are you getting at?”
He takes a step toward me, dark eyes glinting in the streetlight.
“I’m getting at you,” he says. “I don’t know you at all. You never let anyone in. You don’t even know yourself.”
I feel my cheeks burn, hating how his words are making me feel. “Go back inside, Matt,” I manage to say. “Before you say something even more stupid.”
He stares at me for a moment before he lets out a huff of air and turns around, heading past the bouncer until he disappears into the dark.
Shit, what the hell has gotten into him?
With trembling fingers, I manage to get an Uber, only a minute away. It pulls up, and I slide into the back, trying to get some sense into my head. It was such a strange night anyway, but to have Matt get all weird at the end really pushed it over the edge.
But I’m not so concerned with what he wants from me. He was drunk.
I’m toiling over what he said.
That no one can get close to me.
That I don’t even know myself.
Because he’s right.
And I hate that he sees that in me, and that he used it against me.
I sigh and lean back against the seat. It sucks, but I think it’s probably for the best if I don’t see Matt for a while. Let him get his head on straight.
The ride to my apartment is only ten minutes and I get the Uber to drop me off on Laguna Street. Though the shops and bars of Hayes Street are just blocks away, the neighborhood is dark and quiet as usual. But I’m so lost in my head, I can’t be bothered to be spooked.
I cross the road and go to my door, my parents’ door right next to it. My parents actually live above me. They own the whole row house, and had it split into two residences when I graduated high school. I had the choice to live on campus, and they’d rent this out, or stay here. As much as I wanted to experience the college lifestyle, this apartment is so much cooler than a dorm, and my parents totally leave me alone. For the most part.
I fumble for my keys in my purse, glancing up at their place above. It’s nearly midnight and the lights are all off, my parents fast asleep. They tend to get up at four in the morning, for reasons I’ve never understood. As for me, I never sleep much. My brain won’t turn off.
I take my keys out when I feel a presence behind me.
I gasp, my eyes going wide, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end.
I wrap my fingers around the keys, making a fist, prepared to whirl around and stab the attacker in the eye.
“Lenore Warwick?” a man’s smooth voice says from behind me.
I pause, then turn around.
There’s a man standing on the curb. Tall, long dark coat, the shadows too deep to make out his face.
For a moment I think it’s the man from the bar, but I already know it’s not.
My stalker, however, that’s another story.
“Who’s asking?” I say, my voice shaking a little, my fist tight around the keys.
“Forgive me,” he says, stepping forward until he’s in the dim light of my front window, his face emerging from the shadows. “But I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”
Acknowledgments
* * *
I’m not going to lie. Out of the seventy books I’ve written, this was one of the—if not the—hardest books I’ve ever had to write. Which is funny, because this story has been on my brain since 2013. 2013! That’s a long time to be thinking about a book, even for me.