I hear what she’s saying, half registering it, watching her lips move and knowing that I’ll be expected to reply at some point, but the blood rushing through my brain is making everything except her seem very far away. My thoughts are all jumbled and my skin feels prickly. Fucking A, I’m not ready for this.
I stare at her for several seconds, trying desperately to collect myself. She doesn’t recognize me. Thank God. Fuck! No, this is good. No, this is bad, very, very bad.
She puts her hands on her h*ps and my eyes follow her movements. "Don't despair though. I'm sure with some study, you could get better. There might be an instructional video or something you could pick up… maybe a book on the subject, Creepy Stalker for Dummies?" She raises one finely arched eyebrow.
Her words register and I realize that she’s mocking me. I deserve it, obviously. I also realize that she’s probably known I was following her for quite some time. I really and truly thought I was being discreet. This strikes me as funny and I burst out laughing. "Well, holy hell, you really are something aren’t you?" I love it though. I love that she’s feisty and funny. And being able to laugh at myself feels good.
I see her eyes widen slightly and her lips part as she stares at me, not saying a word. I’m desperate to know what she’s thinking. She’s sizing me up but there isn’t a look of recognition in her eyes. She definitely doesn’t know who I am. I knew there was a chance she wouldn’t. I look different than I did when I was fifteen. A lot different. But still, something inside me quietly dies and I steel myself against the hurt.
After a minute, she says quietly, "Okay, well, the gig is up. Why are you following me?"
My blood runs cold. I need time. I need to think. I run my hand through my hair, buying a minute, and look up at her. "I’ve been that obvious, huh?"
I take a step toward her and she takes a step back. "I’m not going to hurt you," I say. She doesn’t respond. But that small movement is all it takes. That’s it. That movement hits me like ice water, fear sliding through my gut. I’ll do anything to keep her from backing away from me.
"Yes, you've been THAT obvious. Enough games. I want to know why you're following me."
I pause for the briefest of seconds, panic coursing through my veins, but before I can really even think about it, the words, "I knew Leo. He asked me to check on you," pour from my lips. I lie. And now there’s no turning back.
**********
I watch as her eyes flare and she jerks back slightly and then freezes. "What?" she says, her voice cracking. But then I see her immediately gather herself. She’s unhappy about her own reaction. I’m not sure what to make of this. "What do you mean you knew Leo?" she asks, her words strong and even now. She’s gathered herself from her initial reaction. I don’t know if this means that her first feeling was one of nothing more than surprise and she was able to quickly shake it off? Or if her reaction was something stronger than that, and she doesn’t want me to know.
I’m all off balance, emotions slamming in to me too quickly to scrutinize, the feeling that I’ve just committed an epic fail forefront in my mind. Fuck, f**k, f**k. Can I freeze time and take a minute?
She turns around and walks to some porch steps directly behind her and sits down. She takes a deep breath and repeats her question, "What do you mean you knew Leo?"
I move closer, gesturing at the step next to her and she gives a slight nod of her head. I sit down and turn toward her, leaning my elbows on my knees. Her face is blank and she’s staring just beyond me, into space. Jesus, this feels beyond shitty. Now I’m going to have to expand on my lie and I feel like a f**king douchebag. But my other choice is to expand on the truth, including Lauren, and no, I’m not ready for that. I know in my heart that if I wasn’t ready to tell Evie the truth, the right thing would have been to walk away once I saw she was doing fine. But the thought of walking away from her again is unfathomable to me, even now that I’ve gotten myself into this f**ked up mess. I speak slowly, picking my words carefully, trying to keep my lie as simple as possible. "Leo died in a car accident last year. We were friends, teammates in school. We all thought he might make it for a couple days, but he didn't. We visited him together and he pulled me aside and told me a little about you. He made me promise to check on you to make sure that you were okay, that you were in a good place, happy. He knew I was moving here to work for my dad's company, and that it would be easy for me to check up on you in person."
She’s quiet for a minute before replying blankly, "I see. What exactly did Leo tell you about me?"
Not only am I hating myself for sitting here lying, but also the fact that she seems somewhat unmoved by the fact that I just told her I died is playing serious havoc with my heart. I’m having a hard time focusing solely on her though and not my feelings of regret over my dishonesty, so my read could be off.
"Just that he knew you in foster care and you were special to him. He said you lost touch but he'd always wondered about how your life turned out. That's really all."
I see her face flinch very slightly and I know that was a sucky thing to say. How would I feel if someone told me that Evie casually wondered how my life had turned out, but not enough to bother ever contacting me herself? I’m trudging through a river of shit of my own making. But it’s either this or tell her the truth and watch her turn away in disgust. Either way, I’m f**ked. At least this way, I’m sitting next to her on a step, memorizing her beautiful features up close and breathing in her fresh, very slightly flowery scent. God, I’m a selfish prick.