Page 11 of Something Like Sugar (Pine Forest Something #2)

My heartbeat quickens, with a zip of a thrill up my spine, a rollercoaster, just before the drop, and my fingers zoom across the screen to chase it.

DancerBaby69: You left the flowers? Were you watching me?

DancerBaby69: Are you watching now?

Watcher: Yes.

I shiver, letting that one-word drip down the front of my body like molten lava. Never mind the meaning behind his words. The one where he did send me flowers. He did watch me.

And he still is now.

I like the way my body feels each time I re-read it. Yes.

Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Wait, this is insane .

I am not turned on by this. I know who the plant sender is! Don’t I?

My eyes shift to the yearbooks lining the bottom row of my shelf. To the ballerina spinning in an open box in my memories.

It’s shut now. Right atop all the dusty yearbooks.

Dusty…

I shove past Lemon and tear the music box from the shelf, opening it up to reveal a note inside. The ballerina turns to Edelweiss as I scan the crumpled parchment.

Always your fan. I’ll never stop watching you dance.

“I knew it was him. Full of it back then, too.” I shake my head and shove the note and the box back into a crevice. It doesn’t quite match what I’m looking for, but it’s always been him.

I just don’t know where he gets the audacity to act like we’re teenagers, sneaking around an app like old love notes, instead of admitting he has feelings and is too scared to try for anything real. And how is that fair to me?

He rejected me mere hours ago.

He can kiss me but not be with me? He’ll send secret messages to thwart my plans with others but not choose to be the one to take me home?

He fucking is home to me. I thought I’d made that clear.

“Are you okay, Shana?” Jeremy scootches to his knees beside me on the carpeted floor. It just reminds me I’m nothing like him. Or Lemon or Devyn or any of my friends.

I’m still sitting here playing patty cake with childhood trinkets on the bedroom floor of my father’s home, hymen more intact than my actual sanity as pathetic as that is…and I don’t want to tell them any of this.

We said no more secrets. But how do I explain twenty-something years of holding a single breath?

My body hums when I find the dog-eared page in my senior yearbook.

The year the notes stopped coming.

To my sister’s only tolerable friend, I can’t believe you didn’t have anyone sign this. What gives? It’s not the yearbook’s fault you hate attention. Always watching out for you.-Dusty

Does it mean I’m an absolute psychopath because the molten lava from before is now a pool of hot, sticky need between my legs?

Is this watcher the same man I kissed only hours ago?

Has he been watching me all this time?

My clit shouldn’t buzz at the thought.

What is wrong with me?

My mind reels with the possibilities, and I hit the call button beneath his name before I can think better of it.

“What are you doing?” Lemon’s eyes widen. “Who is that? You don’t call a match!”

I need to know.

The phone rings. I’m a nervous mess, but this isn’t anyone. It’s Dustin Campell.

I feel it.

Someone picks up, but all I hear is breathing. I grind my teeth, furious at him because I know what this is now.

He doesn’t want me on Flinger because he doesn’t want me with anyone. But I’ll be damned if he keeps pretending he doesn’t want me for himself while he leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to nowhere.

“Look here, Watcher, which is a stupid name, I watch too. True Crime. So, I know how this works. You try to woo me with your weird watcher stuff, I fall fifty shades of freak for it, and suddenly edible arrangements shaped like my face are showing up with notes made from toe-nail clippings, and honestly, I just don’t need that right now.

So, send your needy little death plants to someone else.

There is nothing special about me to like.

Someone I know made that extremely clear tonight! ” I slam the phone to the bed and huff.

Lemon snatches up my phone. “What the hell is this? Why is someone named Watcher messaging you?” Her eyes harden as she scrolls. “You’re replying to him?!”

Jeremy pries the phone from Lemon, his voice void of its usual singsong, “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

I run my hand over the back of my neck, thankful that they care, but annoyed that they think my sexual innocence translates to having no street smarts whatsoever. It’s not like I gave this guy any personal information.

He apparently already knows it. He’s watching, right?

Plus, it’s Dustin.

But they don’t know that. And with the way they reacted earlier, I’m not sure I want them to know.

The notes. The heartbreak.

It’s too much to explain.

And I hate, more than anything, that it turns me on to know it’s him. Am I that pathetic of a person to pine for one man the entirety of my life when all he will ever do is push me away?

If I leave the blinds open as I undress?

To be bare to someone so obsessed with me, they’re content to simply watch ?

“Dad thinks it’s harmless. He saw him. It’s the same guy who sent me flowers, I’m sure of it.

” I don’t mention that Dustin is likely both people, as I gesture to the crumpled flora and consider that it does look thirsty.

“Anyway, Dad recognized him. It’s someone we know.

” I clear my throat and pretend to look at makeup palettes.

“Wait a sec.” Lemon narrows her eyes. “You mean to tell me that in this one, solitary week, you have: acquired a stalker, received flowers from a gentleman caller, and kissed Dustin-Fucking-Campbell, who has apparently been calling you the moon for a ‘long time’—your words not mine—and your best friends know not a single damn thing about it?”

Jeremy snaps his fingers with a “Hmph,” before standing to gather the discarded dresses. I haven’t seen him this mad at me since I called Triple A to tow my truck instead of him.

But it was his day off. I don’t like to burden people.

“Come on, Jer. It’s not like that. Yeah, I didn’t tell you guys, but it’s not like I told anyone else.”

“That’s the point, Shay.” Lemon throws her hands to her hips.

“You didn’t tell anyone. Were you going to tell either of us about the date tonight?

Even for safety reasons? I mean what if your dad couldn’t speak and you went missing.

He’s the only one who knew, and you know how unreliable his memory is! ”

I shrug, my eyes dropping to my feet because…emotions and all.

Lemon paces before me.

“You don’t tell anyone anything. You let things fester inside of you until there’s nothing left but huge balls of emotion hurling around and ready to crash.

You weren’t even going to tell Devyn about your dad’s health.

Your best friend from childhood and she had to move back and find out with her own two eyes.

You want to do it all alone, but we’re here, Shana.

Your problems are coming our way too, whether you like it or not, because we care about you.

Your friends are here for the good, the bad, and the scary. We’re here for your dates…your kisses.”

“Definitely for your stalkers,” Jeremy says, drawing a smile from my lips despite the situation. “Let’s get some blush for these cheeks before your date, okay?”

“Do you guys forgive me for…hurling my balls at you?” We all burst out laughing.

“We do.” Lemon powders a makeup brush. “But no more secrets, okay?”

I smile at my friends, grateful for their support. Even when I feel alone, they remind me I’m not.

But guilt slithers over me as I slip to the bathroom. My phone pinged minutes ago, but I wanted to be alone for this. Even if I did just tell him off. Even if he does say we can’t be together. Even if he makes me want to scream with his indecisiveness.

I feel them.

Fireworks and butterflies and explosions all combine for this man who sees me, his response to my rant, ‘ there’s nothing about me to like ,” heating that lava right back up to the point of shame.

Watcher: Liar. I like you in red.