Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
My finger hovers over the home button, and that’s when I remember the emergency function Gideon set up for me. If I tap the button three times fast, it’ll send Gideon a recording, my location, and photos.
I don’t do it yet. It only records a ten-second snippet, and I need to get this guy’s name or somehow record why he’s here so when Gideon gets the message, he understands I’m in danger. I don’t think I’ll be able to aim the camera part properly without him realizing what I’m doing, so the photo part won’t help me.
I itch to press the button—to get help—but I tell myself to breathe and calm down. I need to wait for the perfect moment for it to actually help.
“Well, when you told me tonight that Evah’s out of town, I thought that maybe … you were doing it to let us all know you were available. Then on your way out when you nodded to me to follow you, I almost told myself not to do it. You’re engaged, you know? It’s wrong for us to hook up.”
Okay, he’s not only psycho but goddamn delusional.
I do it—I hit the button on my phone three times and say, “So you followed me home from the concert.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you get in here?”
His eyes widen, and I watch as his hand taps along the kitchen counter closer to the knives.
“Only because I was planning to come out and get you,” I say to appease him. “After my shower. Sorry I didn’t make that part clear.” I hope if this is still recording that Gideon can hear the edge in my voice.
Mr. Psycho lets out a loud breath. “I thought for a second I might have read this whole situation wrong.”
You think?
The phone vibrates in my hand, and it’s Gideon. He got the SOS message and is probably checking up on me instead of doing what I wanted him to do, which is call the LAPD.
I wonder if I can answer it without tipping this guy off. I move to put my phone in my pocket as casually as I can and hit the Answer button as I do.
“So, Evah’s away, I gestured for you to follow me, and when you got here, you …”
He chuckles. “I didn’t quite know what to do when you didn’t leave the gate unlocked for me. I looked for a side entrance or something and then saw the gate between your yard and the neighbor’s. It led me to the side of the house where the fence is lower, so I jumped it and went to your front door which was unlocked. It was easy.”
Fucking app.
The fact he finds nothing wrong with what he’s saying scares me most of all.
“Oh. Right.”
“What’s the deal with you and Evah, anyway? You’re allowed to hook up when you’re not together?”
I begin to think this is all a huge misunderstanding by a fan who thinks he knows me and is under the delusion we have a connection. It’s definitely not the first time that’s happened, though this is the first with a guy.
My heart pounds so hard my body must think I’m working out. I break into a sweat, and I worry he can see it running down my face.
I blink and try to remember what he asked. “Umm, no, Evah and I don’t have a deal. I’ve never done this before.”
The guy finally moves his hand away from the knife block. He goes to take a step closer to me, but on instinct I stumble back.
His face falls, and his jaw hardens.
“I want to get to know you,” I blurt.
“What do you want to know?”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
He steps closer again.
I step back. “Your name. There’s a start.”
It’s not the thing he wanted to hear. “I told you my name when we met tonight.”
I want to yell I met a million people tonight. How am I supposed to remember his name when I can’t even remember his face or actually meeting him at all?
“Sorry.” I try to laugh it off. “I’m terrible with names.”
He flicks his dark hair out of his eyes. “Billy.”
“Uh. Well, nice to meet you … again, Billy.”
“You seem really nervous,” he states.
No shit.
“L-like I said, I’ve n-never d-done this before.” Now I’m stuttering. Brilliant.
“With any guy? I figured because of the song—”
“The song isn’t about me. Common misconception.” I need to shut this guy down the easiest way possible—play the straight card.
“You’re seriously standing there and telling me you and Jay from Radioactive didn’t have this epic romance before he went and married some other guy?”
“That’s what I’m saying. We were friends, and we collaborated on a song. End of story.” Not quite, but telling myself that makes it hurt less.
Oh, great, now he’s singing. “Confusing love with isolation, holding on in desperation, I thought I’d found my one, the one I’m meant to keep … How is that not drawn from personal experience?”