Girl from Nowhere - Tiffany Rosenhan Page 0,37

on you. But when I lifted my scope, he was sprinting in the opposite direction—”

“There was a grizzly! I tried to run too, remember?”

He eyes me warily. “My scope has a x400 magnification. I saw him clearly, Sophia. Same profile. Same build. It was the same guy tonight. And I’m guessing it’s the same guy you thought was following you at Fish Market,” he adds darkly.

“Waterford is small,” I say, trying to placate him, not wanting to assemble these pieces. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence,” Aksel says under his breath. “Right.”

I know I should be concerned, but the longer I sit here with Aksel, the further I can—must—push the man with hazel eyes and curly hair from my mind.

Aksel has no proof I am being followed.

Neither do I. All I have is instinct. And fear. That’s what it was tonight—fear I would be found. Followed.

My throat constricts as I try to block it all out. The smells. The voice. His voice.

I am safe here. Because not being safe here has an outcome I can’t consider.

“Sophia, you should tell your parents, or even the police.”

“I’m not telling them.”

Aksel jerks his thumb toward town. “He’s trailed you twice, and those are only the times you know about—”

“You don’t get it!” I say adamantly. “If he were following me, I wouldn’t still be in Waterford!”

Saying it aloud catches me by surprise.

Aksel tilts his head against the window. His angular face is impassive, unreadable.

I sense the friction building between us.

“How did you even know he would be there tonight?” I peer over at him from beneath my lashes.

“I didn’t,” answers Aksel diffidently. “I knew you would be.”

“How?”

“Henry texted me.” Aksel shifts in his seat. “And I thought, sure, yeah, why not … But then this happened tonight, and I don’t know, Sophia …”

Beneath his stoic expression, I struggle to maintain eye contact. My heart beats vigorously in my chest.

“Why are you so determined to not … hang out—”

“Sophia.” His voice is calm, but his eyes are fierce. “I do want to hang out with you—”

“So why do you keep acting like we have nothing in common? Like you can’t decide whether you want to be friends or …” My voice catches in my throat.

“Because, Sophia …” He seems torn. Rattled. Flustered. The defined line from his cheekbone to his jaw sets into place; his eyebrows are drawn tight, frustrated. Like he doesn’t understand why I don’t understand. But I don’t understand. What is restraining him?

“What if we have too much in common?” he asks quietly.

I stare into his eyes, a piercing green that seems to smolder. “Don’t most people consider that a good thing?” I prompt.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” I pause. “No.” I shake my head, “I don’t know.”

Buzz. I look down at my phone. Charlotte, wondering where I am.

“I have to go,” I say, biting my lip. “Thanks for the ride.”

I get out and start walking briskly toward the house, circled by a tempest of emotion. A stiff pain ripples across my chest. It’s clear. Aksel recognizes I have a past. And he doesn’t want any part in it.

I have almost reached the porch when I hear Aksel jog up behind me.

“Sophia, wait.”

His strong fingers wrap gently around mine.

Rotating to face him, my insides flutter—I grip the edge of my sleeve.

Staring at Aksel, I am sure of almost nothing. I have no idea how to interpret my feelings for him. And I have no idea how he feels about me.

I only know that being in Aksel’s presence is exhilarating and thrilling and transcends all the complicated emotions I’ve felt since I arrived in Waterford.

Is this what it’s like to like someone?

His fingertips linger on my skin, sending pulses of heat up my arm. It feels like there is so much, yet so little, distance between us.

“What if I’m wrong?” Aksel asks.

“You are wrong. He was just some guy—”

“I meant wrong about thinking we shouldn’t be … together.”

When Aksel says together, my heart fumbles a beat. Or two. Or ten.

My chest tightens as I search his gaze.

“Sophia, maybe this can never work”—his eyes lock with mine—“but maybe it can. Maybe it’s worth trying. Because the truth is, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day in the forest. Since Berlin, if I’m honest; I had no reason to think I would ever see you again, yet I still remembered you,” he declares.

Aksel shifts his posture. “And now you’re here, and I meet you, and I question everything—” He stops, catching his words.

Indecipherable thoughts clutter my head.

He

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