Page 8

Story: Creep

7

LIA

He was here.

Fuck, but he was here. The man who caught my attention at the bar. The interesting man with those magnetic ocean-blue eyes… and I was placed entirely under his spell.

What were the odds of me running into him here at this bar, one of the few thousand in New York City?

I had thought I’d lost him for good since that night at Brody’s, but here he was.

I also remembered that vivid drunken fantasy I had of the man eating me out…

Hell.

I quickly looked away from him.

He looked different in this light than he did at Brody’s Bar. His dark blond hair had grown a little since the last time I’d seen him, though I knew it hadn’t been very long. The short strands stood in a messy heap on top of his head as if he had spent the majority of the day running his fingers through them.

I snuck a peek sideways at him, taking in the impressive muscular torso covered by a fitted black thermal shirt, showcasing his broad shoulders and huge biceps. He was larger than I remembered.

More… of everything.

And I was utterly fascinated by him.

He turned to me then, and our eyes met for a brief moment before I couldn’t take the intensity anymore and turned away.

I noticed a lot of the women nearby were eyeing him up and down. I wondered if he had a girlfriend.

A heavy weight settled on top of my chest from the thought. I didn’t know why I was feeling this way, this possessiveness over a man I didn’t know, but it was there, undeniable, unreasonable.

I took a large gulp of my Manhattan, feeling the slight burn in my throat as the liquid flowed down. It was taking everything in me not to spit it out.

God, I was lame.

I didn’t even know why I had come here in the first place. The plan had been to go home, but the thought of going home to an empty apartment suddenly felt like too much. Coupled with the fact that I hadn’t truly convinced myself there was no stalker, and here I was.

I could go to the cops…

With what proof?

If Leo couldn’t find anything, what hope did I have that the cops would?

And my relationship with the cops was… complicated.

I didn't have a high opinion of them. Not with the half-assed way they went about investigating Caden’s death, or how it felt they cared more about being able to close a case, as opposed to the people in those cases, just left me feeling icky.

But right now, a supposed stalker was pushed to the back of my mind when I felt eyes on me.

His eyes.

I didn’t even know his name. Yet there was this undeniable attraction buzzing low beneath my skin, as some kind of warning, right before the implosion of a bomb.

I turned my head toward him once more.

His blue eyes were like crystals. They shone brightly even in this dingy bar.

And what I hadn’t noticed the other night was his neck tattoo—black tribal lines of some sort on one side. I could only imagine he would have more beneath his shirt. How…

Sexy.

The man was unbelievably sexy.

And had this untouchable vibe that just made me want to touch.

And he was looking at me as if he might feel the same way too.

Should I approach him?

I didn’t usually approach men—specifically, strange men I knew nothing about. But he made me want to just throw out the norm and do whatever it took to make him mine.

Sounded desperate.

And sad.

I wasn’t desperate or sad, was I?

But if I let him go, who knew if I would be able to run into him again?

Just as I worked up the courage to approach him, a woman was already there, pushing up against his side and running her hand up and down his hard chest.

I deflated on the spot as I watched her say something to him, her eyes glinting with interest.

How brave.

But if I looked like her—the literal definition of a blonde bombshell—I would be brave as well.

I downed the rest of my drink, having already seen enough. What made me think a man like him would be interested in me?

I was blushing just thinking about it.

I stood and placed a couple of twenties on the bar top, catching the bartender’s eyes to indicate I was paying, and walked away. I didn’t look back at the man and the woman, but I could hear the woman’s giggles on my way out.

I blew out a long exhale, watching as cold air formed in front of my face before I got into my car and drove off. Just as I was about to pull out of the property, I checked my rearview mirror. My heart nearly dropped to the bottom of my car when I caught sight of the man standing out casually by the front door of the bar.

He had his hands tucked into his pants pockets, his huge frame nearly taking up most of the entryway, and even in the dark, I got the distinct feeling that his eyes were aimed directly at the back of my car.

I took a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. It felt like there was an elephant doing jumping jacks on my heart. I rubbed at my chest. Why was he looking at me?

What about the blonde woman who approached him? And did it make me conceited to think he had left the woman behind to follow me out? Did he feel it too? That pressure on his chest whenever he looked at me, and he did not know what to do? Did I make a mistake by leaving the bar early?

It was too late now. I couldn’t get back to the bar in hopes of talking to him or seeing him. That sounded too desperate, even for me.

I drove home on autopilot, not really seeing the road in front of me. I was surprised when I finally pulled up to the parking garage of my apartment building. I let the car sit there, the engine idling for a bit before I turned it off. The world seemed to quiet all at once, and I was left sitting there with my thoughts.

What was wrong with me?

Why was I feeling like this?

No longer wanting to just sit there in self-pity, I exited the car and headed toward my apartment building. I paused just when I got to the entrance and took in a deep, tired sigh. I could feel the hair on the nape of my neck standing once more, a familiar feeling that had accompanied me in the past weeks, and I was just so… exhausted.

I was just so mentally exhausted right now, I didn’t have the energy to do anything anymore about this “supposed” stalker.

I didn’t fucking care. Not tonight, at least, when it felt like all of my energy had been drained out of me.

He could watch me all he wanted. The sick fucker could do whatever the fuck he wanted tonight as long as he stayed out of my apartment building and just let me go to sleep tonight in peace.

After all, what could I do at this point?

I walked through the entrance of my apartment, not looking back or giving him the satisfaction of turning around to see if I could even catch a glimpse of the man.