Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
It was on the last song, “California Girls,” that realization dawned on me and fear clawed back into the pit of my stomach, an icy grip that threatened to bring up everything I had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“What is it? Elijah, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
I handed the CD case to Ryan, my hand shaking. “It’s a track list for my first-ever show, years ago. And the letters that are circled. They say ‘Don’t Quit, Cuz I Never Won’t.’ It’s my stalker. They were here, and they aren’t going to stop.”
“Okay, get inside. Come on.” Ryan ushered me in with a hand on my lower back. “I’m going to drive around the block in case I can spot anything. Stay in here, and keep the doors locked. I’ll call when I’m—”
“No, no, I’m not staying in here alone.” The fear had morphed into a tower-crushing kaiju, tearing me apart from the inside out. I felt like a stray cat at a shelter, about to sink my claws into the first pant leg that walked by so I could hitch a ride out of Dodge. “I can’t, Ry.”
Not sure where the nickname came from, or why, but it was said and I liked it, and I sure as fuck hoped Ry wouldn’t leave me here alone.
“Let’s go, then,” he said. He grabbed his clothes and his keys, taking off the heels and putting on his shoes. “Pack a bag. You can stay at my place.”
Again, just like the shelter cat, I wasn’t about to say no to a warm bed and a nice roof over my head, somewhere that I knew I’d be safe.
Somewhere next to a sleeping Ryan…
“I, uhm—” Why was I even thinking about this? It was a kind offer made by a new friend, nothing more and nothing less. It wasn’t like he was asking me to grab my toothbrush and move in with him.
I looked at the CD in Ryan’s hand and didn’t need any more convincing. “Let me grab my bag.” I ran to my bedroom and stuffed a backpack with things I’d need for an overnight stay at Ryan’s. I wanted to get out of my place as quick as we could. Even being in my brightly lit bedroom gave me the creeps, like someone was watching me through the slats of my closet door. I threw it open just to try and get rid of that feeling, but it didn’t help.
Backpack over my shoulder, water bottle in hand, and my wig back in the stand, Ryan and I hurried out to his parked car. I threw myself in and looked around the narrow street, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Most of the cars looked familiar, and no one was out on foot, which wasn’t unusual at this time of night. Ryan drove us in a couple of slow laps around the block. After clearing the area, we expanded the radius, Ryan explaining everything to me as he drove. He told me things I should look out for, and he kept my mind off the fear. It was a pleasant effect of being close to Ryan. Even in high-stress situations, he kept his cool and made sure the people around him did the same. It didn’t matter whether he was wearing a full face of makeup or not, he was going to handle whatever situation he was presented with, and he was going to handle it well.
After about a half hour of searching, Ryan called it, deciding that we wouldn’t find any signs of whoever left that album case. He had placed it in a ziplock bag in case he could find some kind of fingerprint trace on it, which gave me an ounce of hope.
Not much, but it was something.
The drive to Ryan’s place was quiet but in a pleasant way. I sat in the comfortable seat, looking out the window at the sleepy small town blurring past, wondering how the hell my life ended up like this—sitting next to a Prince Charming wearing one of my dresses and looking damn good in it, rescuing me from a situation that had been haunting me for years now.
Like… what in the actual fuck.
He slowed down and pulled through the opening wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to his community. An eagle adorned both gates, their metallic eyes looking down into the car like judgmental guards. The gates closed behind us, and a warm sense of safety washed over me, reassuring me that this was the right decision.
We didn’t drive much farther, the car coming to a slow and a stop inside of Ryan’s two-car driveway. The exterior of his house was exactly like how I expected it to be: perfectly clean, well-designed, bright, and welcoming. The exact things that made up Ryan’s personality.