Page 28 of Chalk Outline

Memories drag me under their clutches as I go.

I told Winona to head straight to her home while I take care of her little stalker problem that she knows nothing about.

I fucking hate that clown.

I turn around as a motorcycle speeds my way, trying to run me over. I move aside, and with a bored expression, I yank him off his bike and toss him onto the road. The bike screeches against the asphalt while the college kid whimpers from the impact of the fall, but it is soon replaced with sickening laughter.

“I see the looks you’re giving her. She doesn’t want you,” he provokes me, flicking up the visor of his helmet.

“I can say the same about you,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets, my fingers brushing against my pocket knife. “But it wouldn’t make a difference. You just crave the attention.”

“I do.” He lies on his back, crossing his legs at the ankles and propping his head on his folded arm. “I touch her every chance I get, bodyguard, you’re not gonna come between us.”

The thought alone has my emotions in overdrive. I hate every word he says, but I don’t let it show. I smirk as he keeps talking.

“She’s not innocent, man, she’s touchy.” He sighs playfully as if extracting the joy from his own trash talk. “Seductive as hell, hot naked. Her tattoos… damn, those are a work of art. That girl is something else.”

That girl…

I will fucking nail the screws to his coffin with my bare hands.

“I’m just saying. You’re playing a game you’ve already lost.”

“Are you hallucinating again, Larson? Are you high? Because she’s disgusted with you, but you can’t read the room. That’s pathetic. Do you really think she would want someone as useless as you?”

“Who the fuck are you to say?” He jerks upright and hops to his feet, fired up by my words. “You know nothing about our relationship.”

“That you made up in your head,” I retort.

“Fuck you.” His finger of accusation is pointed at me. “She’s going to be mine, and you can’t do shit about it.”

“Follow us again, and I’ll bury you alive.” The fury in my voice echoes even after I finish the words. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

“This isn’t over,” he yells, attempting to lift his bike in hurried movements. It slips from his trembling hand a couple of times before he finally manages to get it upright and drive away.

He’s her only college friend; they take the same classes, and given Winona’s anxiety, she would rather have someone to hang out with on campus than be alone. At the beginning of the year, a few girls started to hang out with her until they saw her sketches and became hostile toward Winona, so I paid someone to cake their cars with mud for fun.

No one messes with my girl.

Not even a bunch of jealous goblins who can throw themselves into a void and never return.

She’s amazing and spends hours nurturing her skills. Would it kill them to be nice?

Saying I detest college would be an understatement, and I’m just watching from the sidelines. I wish I could do something to help her. I just want to see her happy.

I crack my neck as I walk toward the house, passing the large parking lot near the neighborhood gate, and salute the guards before they let me in.

Pulling my phone out, I text Winona about this asshole who always manages to piss me off, and she leaves it on read.

Brat.

The door clicks behind me as I move through the grand foyer and stop short of the left staircase, glaring at Winona’s back as she takes another step.

“Did Larson touch you?” I’m about to come up with a creative way to send that college kid to the afterlife if he had the nerve.

She turns slowly, leaning against the handrail.

“Don’t bullshit me, Winona. You’ve never been touched.”