you,” she huffs, hobbling as she walks away.
I glance down to get my keys out of my purse when I notice it is unzipped. I remember closing it, but maybe I didn’t. The last few days have been odd. If my mind is screwing with me about Tongue, then small things like remembering to zip my purse are going to happen too.
“I’ll see you later,” Andrew says, opening the door for me as I leave. “You should relax. You can take a few vacation days. I don’t mind. You never take time off.”
“I wouldn’t be able to function if I didn’t come to the bookstore.” Holy moly, I hope he doesn’t think I’m hitting on him. What I said almost sounds like I only come to work for him, which is not the case. Not even a little.
As I said, Andrew is too normal.
“Well, we will be here waiting for you when you come back tomorrow.” He grins, rocking back on his heels and rubbing two fingers over his bottom lip as he grins.
How do I tell my boss I’m not interested in him because I think I’m falling in love with a man who lives in the dark?
I wave goodbye and start my journey walking two blocks, replaying the conversation I had with Tongue in my head. Why won’t he talk to me? Like truly speak and have a conversation? He doesn’t have to watch me from afar or from the corners; he can touch me if he wants, and love me if he wants.
I keep my head down, thinking about a million reasons and excuses for him, but at the end of the day, I truly don’t know anything about him. For all I know, Reaper is right. No matter what I try to convince myself, Tongue is the night, and according to Reaper, his armor is caked in blood.
If he is so bad for me, why can’t I rationalize that?
Thinking about him makes the time walking to my apartment fly by. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but the excitement isn’t there, the heat, the anticipation. It’s gone. This creepy feeling has my skin pebbling in warning and fear tearing into my stomach. Pausing mid-step, I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching me.
There’s a mailman wearing a light blue shirt and navy shorts walking to his United States Post Office car. There’s another woman who is walking her chihuahua. A few cars are parked along the street. They are compact, small, and I can see through the windows. No one is there.
A hot breeze has me turning my head in the other direction, so I don’t choke on the dry heat. Studying another point of view, I don’t see anything except trash cans and the shadows casting onto the road from the buildings.
The inkling that someone is watching me doesn’t go away. The keys in my hand jingle, clinking together as tremors overtake my body. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I chant when the feeling gets worse, like the evil is closing in, and I only have a second to get inside before it snatches me.
Tears blur the keyhole, but I’ve unlocked this door so many times that I can do it in my sleep. I let out a relieved huff of air as the doorknob turns. I turn my body and squeeze my way inside, keeping the door as closed as I can. I slam it behind me and twist the bolt until the lock slides in place. Covering my face with my hands, I laugh. Oh my god, I’m so ridiculous. It was probably nothing. I’m freaking out for no reason.
Everything is A-okay. I’m peachy. Life is good. I need to have a glass of wine and relax. My phone rings in my purse, and I scream from the unexpected sound cutting through my anxiety. I lay palm against my forehead and chuckle. “God, he really has you in a freaking mess, doesn’t he?” If he doesn’t approach me soon, maybe dating a normal guy will be better for my freaking health.
I pull my phone out of the side pocket of my purse, and a folded-up piece of paper falls to the floor. “Hello?” I answer, bending over to pick up the grocery list, receipt, or whatever it is. My purse isn’t the cleanest, okay? I bet I have receipts in there from my damn birthday last year.
“Hey, sweetie,” Aunt Tina greets me. “Oh, no. You