Special You
Someone nudges me on my arm. I grunt and roll on the opposite direction of the bed. The same person pokes me in the side of the ribs and in the ass. “Stop,” I say hoarsely. “It’s rude. I’m still sleeping.”
A pair of hands pushes down on my back, pressing most of their weight on me and bouncing my body up and down against the mattress as if I’m some kind of play toy or ball.
“Seriously? What the hell?”
Soft giggling noises come from the individual at hand. Small hands cup my butt, feeling me up. “Wake your ass up, lovebird. I flew from California. That’s a long flight. The least you could have done was open those pretty little eyes for me.”
What?
Harmony?
I groan, turning over to face her. I’m greeted with warm grey-green eyes and a mop of lustrous golden hair. I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”
She tsks, waving her slender index finger in my face. How Hunterish of her. “When a friend tells another friend not to come that always means, ‘come and please be with me and I need you more than you think.’ So don’t give that bullshit sob story that you’re okay, because I know you. And you’re definitely not okay, love bird. I’m here, you’re here, and we’re here together. Plus, I have to keep The Creep away from you.”
My brows lift. “The Creep?”
“Yeah, The Creep, Hunter Knight. That dude is a real fucking stalker, like for real for real. I can’t believe he gave you a concussion and spanked you.” She frowns, shaking her head.
“How’s he a stalker?” I ask, confused.
“Well, I came up with that conclusion on my long flight over here. Just hear me out. Hunter dropped you like a slimy used condom—”
“Really? You couldn’t just say ‘hot potato’?”
She shrugs dismissively. “Who wants to use old ass similes like that? The point is that he cut you completely and totally out of his life without an explanation. You were his childhood best friend, Isabel. You just don’t erase someone so important without something substantial enough to do so. You dated his other ex-best friend throughout high school and moved away to college. This may just be me, but what’s the chance of Hunter attending the same college or wanting to attend the same college as you. You would be nothing but a dark cloud of misery from the past for him. Why would he want to be at the exact same college when he had other options unless, unless he wants to watch you. Keep you in his line of sight. I’ve never really paid attention to how many coincidences there were when it comes to Hunter Knight, how he eats at the same places you do, how he’s involved in the same activities you are in, how he shops at the same stores you shop at. I thought about every moment I saw him, but there’s this one moment in particular that stands out from all the others. I was running late one night. I was supposed to meet you at the library for our crash study session, but when I arrived, Hunter, he was watching you so intently like a predator that stalks its prey before it eats it. He was sitting alone at least six tables away without a book, a piece of paper, or anything. He was just staring, wide-eyed and alert. You were so engrossed in your books that you never knew he was there to begin with. I thought it was weird but not important enough to bother you with it. Now that I look back on it, it’s fucking creepy, lovebird. He was your shadow the entire time and you never knew.”
It takes me a long moment to digest this.
Hunter.
Stalking.
Me.
It just doesn’t make sense.
“Why would Hunter want to stalk me? I don’t think he even likes me.”
“He likes you. He likes you a whole helluva lot, to the point where you are his obsession, consuming his every waking thought and dreams as well. He probably jerks to your picture every day and night. It’s always the good-looking ones you have to be aware of. Hunter’s so far up your ass I bet he knows what exact brand of tampons you use.”
I feel my face heat. “You’re being silly, Harmony.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he did—”
“What are you girls in here chatting about?” Falcon interjects, leaning against the frame of the door, dressed in casual straight leg jeans and a golden-brown sweater that brings out his light brown eyes, his face smooth and his dark hair is perfectly disheveled.
Harmony smiles sweetly at him. “Hello, handsome. We are talking about tampons if you must know.”
Falcon smiles back. “Don’t be a smartass, Harmony.”
“Don’t pick a fight with me, Falcon. I’ll win every time.”
He lifts a challenging brow. “Are you sure about that?”
They always play like this. It’s what happens when you put two alphas in one room—they challenge one another to find out who’s weaker. It’s the law of nature.
Her smile broadens, turning sharper. “Do you want to test the theory?”
“Maybe some other time, we should go out and get some breakfast first.”
***
I sit in Roxy’s Diner in a booth in a tight corner with three of my favorite people. Harmony and Falcon are in a heated discussion about the economy. Victor is cutting his buttery syrup-covered waffles into perfect triangle pieces as he hums along with the song that streams through the speakers. I recognize it “The Edge of Reality” by Elvis Presley. Hunter used to listen to that song all the time. No matter where I go, I can’t get away from Hunter. It seems impossible now.
Spearing a sausage link with a fork, I bring it up to my mouth and take bites off it as my eyes roam around the lively diner. Grandparents are scolding their badly behaved grandchildren for jumping on the on the cushiony booths. Husbands and wives are holding hands across the tables, conversing quietly among themselves. Groups of teenagers are laughing loudly, talking about how “amazing” Max’s party will be tonight. The sight before me looks like something right from a Hallmark movie, except this little southern town has a very dark secret. A killer lives freely amongst us.
“We need to go shopping,” I mutter through mouthfuls of cheesy grits, “I need a silver dress.”
Vic shakes his head, offended somehow. “Honeybunch, I don’t go to art school for any reason. I am a design prodigy. You want a silver dress then I’ll make you a silver dress. Custom-made dresses for the beautiful Izzy always.”
“Really?” I ask, smiling in disbelief. It feels strange to smile, but it’s the kind of strange that I like.
“Absolutely,” Victor says, smiling too.
“What’s the special occasion?” Falcon asks.
“Rex’s birthday party. He’s turning eighteen,” I say.
“You want to go to Rex’s party?” Falcon asks suspiciously.
I nod. “Yeah. I need to get out of the house and integrate with society.” I’m lying, but it looks like he’s buying it.
“So we’re going to a party. Sounds exciting,” Harmony adds.