Page 16 of Stalk Me

He grins. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. I hike around it all the time.”

“You’re actually being serious?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but I’m used to everyone either being overly cautious or overly reckless. Erik strikes me as neither.

“Dead serious,” he promises. “I promise you’ll love it. The view from the south cliff is amazing.”

“Is this a fucking trick?” I throw back at him. “If you’re not interested in having fun with me, what’s the point of us spending time together?”

“Isn’t that something friends do?” he questions. “Spend time together?”

I pause for a second. “Are we friends?”

“We’re getting there,” he replies. “I mean, it would help if you stopped trying to seduce me all the time. While I’m attracted to you, I’m not digging your attitude.”

His brashness stuns me into a new, angry silence.

“It’s settled.” He stands up and grabs his books. “Meet me in the courtyard after class.”

And then, he turns and walks away.

“Fuck you!” I yell after him. Erik turns and winks before disappearing down the hall, out of sight, and leaving me with more emotions than I can process.

Belle chooses that moment to make an appearance in the courtyard, a swarm of minions flanking her on both sides. Her back is straight, chin held high. I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving, but to an outsider, she appears confident and put-together. Her uniform is impeccable, not a hair out of place. Yet, I see the pain in her eyes, and it makes me want to hurt her all over again. That bitch deserves that and much more.

I smile to myself and collect my books. I’ve seen enough. Though I’ve temporarily taken down my enemy, I’m not delusional to think I’ve won the war. No, this was just one battle. Belle and I still have a long way to go until one of us gives up.

As I walk out of the library and toward my final class of the day, my thoughts turn to Erik. There’s something magnetic about him, something that pulls at the darkest parts of me. It’s tempting to show up to his little excursion. But can I really trust him? Trust is a luxury I haven’t allowed myself since Alex. Would he really take me to see the island, or is this just another tactic to gain my trust? He’s already told me he doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, but if he’s not interested in me, what is he after? And why does his refusal make me want him even more? The questions turn over and over in my mind as I try to read his motives. The truth is, I know nothing about him. Not really. But maybe that’s what makes him so dangerous and so irresistible. I should decide against going with him, but as always, my curiosity wins out. This time, I’ll let it lead me wherever it wants to go.

Who knows, maybe he proves capable of surprising me. After all, the most fascinating monsters always do.

A Date That's Not a Date

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across Shark Bay's courtyard, where Erik told me to wait for him. I'm trying my best to ignore the whispers that follow me like faithful pets. By now, the word of my bathroom hookup with Nicolas has spread through the rest of campus. Funny enough, each version of the story is more salacious than the last. I've heard at least three different versions today alone, painting me as more of a villain each time. Let them talk. Their gossip can't hurt me any more than I've already hurt myself.

I look out over the ocean, watching waves crash against the stone coastline, gulls swooping down to snatch chunks of food the students threw in. Where the fuck is Erik?

I check my phone again—no new messages from my parents, which is almost more unsettling than their usual threats. The silence feels like the calm before the storm, and I've learned to be wary of calm. A light breeze carries the salt-tang of the ocean, ruffling my hair and the pleats of my uniform skirt. I should have changed, but part of me wants Erik to see exactly what he's getting into—the mess, the scandal, all of it. That way, if I can't figure out what drives him, he'll have a tough time figuring out what drives me.

"Ready for an adventure?" Erik's voice startles me from behind. He's changed out of his uniform into dark jeans and a fitted gray T-shirt that makes his eyes look like storm clouds. A small backpack is slung over one shoulder, and he's carrying what looks like a picnic basket. The sight is so incongruously normal it makes my chest ache.

"That depends." I look at the basket suspiciously. "Are you planning to poison me?"

He grins, reaching into the basket and handing me an egg salad sandwich. "What do you think?"

I take a careful bite. The eggs taste a little like lemon, and the bread is fresh. My urge to stay alive is screaming in the background, telling me to stop. But for once, I follow my instinct to indulge in what I want. At least for now. "Wow, this is delicious."

He chuckles, and something in my stomach flutters traitorously. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't waste good food doing it." He takes my sandwich from me, puts it back in the basket, and starts walking toward one of the smaller trails leading away from campus, clearly expecting me to follow. "Come on, Queen. Show me what you're made of."

The challenge in his voice makes my spine straighten. I fall into step beside him, matching his easy stride. "You know, most guys don't reject me in the first place, but if they do, they wouldn't bother hanging out with me at all. What's your angle?"

"Maybe I just enjoy the company of complicated women." He takes us down a narrow road that winds through lots of trees. The branches make a canopy over us. In the shade, the temperature drops a bit, and my bare arms get goose bumps.

"Complicated?" I laugh, the sound sharp enough to scatter a few birds from nearby branches. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Interesting?" Erik offers. "Unpredictable? Intelligent? Sexy as fuck?" Erik stops suddenly, turning to face me. His expression is serious, those gray eyes seeing too much, as always. "What would you call it?"

My throat's suddenly dry, the words not coming out at all. I didn't expect a question like that. What do I call myself? Broken? Dangerous? A cosmic mess of epic proportions? I settle for a shrug, trying to keep up my carefully made mask. "Most people just go with 'crazy bitch' these days."

"Ah." He gives a small smile and turns to walk again. "Most people are idiots." He ducks under a low-hanging branch. "Besides, I've always found labels pretty useless. They never tell the whole story."

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