Page 40 of Shadowman
“Sorry,” I croaked, barely audible as I released the bag quickly.
He chuckled, then hummed teasingly, “No harm, Ghost Rider.” The dimples were even more intense up close. “Have a good night.”
What the fuck is wrong with you??I remember thinking to myself.Do something! Call him out! Judo kick him in the face!
But I just cleared my throat and muttered, “You too.”
Then spun and stormed out of his stupid townhouse, kicking myself for being such a fucking loser. I totally bitched out. And I hated myself for it.
Waiting until my bike’s engine roared to life, I growled out loud. “What the hell was that?!”
What a goddamn waste! You were supposed to fuck him up! He screwed your girlfriend and all you can do is stare at the guy?!
Pathetic.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night. All I could think about wasMichelangelo Russo… The dude who’d stolen Rey from me and then had the nerve tosmilein my face like everything was fuckingfine. Like he wasn’t some rich daddy’s boy living in a two-story townhouse, ordering food and looking likethatand giving me stupid fucking nicknames.
Who does that??
He didn’t know me. We weren’t pals. As far as he knew, I didn’t exist, and that was what carried me into the next few weeks.
By all accounts, I was done following Rey. I’d moved on to her blue-eyed fuckboy.
Unfortunately, stalking Michelangelo was infinitely more frustrating than anything I’d experienced with Rey, or anyone else, for that matter. He wasimpossibleto get a read on. Every time I thought I’d figured him out in some way, he’d switch things up and throw a wrench in my judgements.
As it turned out, he wasn’t dating Rey at all. They never crossed paths again the entire time I spent watching him. He did, however, go out to bars and flirt withothergirls—which only verified Rey’s casual hookup persona. Because of this, I assumed Michelangelo was just another rich Tinder fuckboy in Manhattan, sleeping with girls left and right.
But it didn’t really happen that way. For all the girls I saw him hit on, he never brought any home. I followed him on one Tinder date, and it went about the same way it had with Rey. He went home with her, they fucked quick—less than ten minutes—and then he left.
Yes, I watched. Grow up.
So hewasn’ta playboy. And as much as I wanted him to be, he wasn’t an arrogant jerk either. In fact, a lot of the qualities that had drawn me to Rey were also popping up as I watched Michelangelo. He stopped to give money and food to homeless people, as well as help tourists with directions—patiently, I might add. He volunteered work with inner-city kids and helped old ladies carry their groceries. He paid for the coffee of whomever was behind him in lineevery timehe went to Starbucks.
He spent a lot of time in the gym, but not in a douchey way, like his friends did. Rather, he simply enjoyed staying in shape and keeping active. Likeme.
Most of the time when he went out with people, he’d find excuses to break away from the herd. And when he’d sit alone, gazing at his phone screen as our generation does, he wouldn’t be scrolling Instagram or TikTok… Usually, he’d be reading.Sometimes it seemed like he was playing a game, though I could never see which one. I desperately wanted it to beCall of Dutyor something stupid like that.Anythingto make him less unique, and more like the shallow, predictabledudebrohe wassupposedto be.
Knowing him, it was probablyPokemonfuckingGo.
As it would happen, Michelangelo Russo was a rare and remarkable aberration. His personality just didn’t fit. And it made me despise him all the more.
No one who looks like that, with that kind of money, and such an obvious plutocratic pedigree, is ever so genuine. So thoughtful, interesting and… sweet.
Ugh.
I couldn’t stand how unpredictable he was. Howcoolhe was. And the craziest part was that the more I watched him, the more addicted I became to watching him. It made no sense…
I should’ve stopped once I found out he had no interest in dating Rey, but I didn’t. Icouldn’t. Without even realizing it, I’d become obsessed.
Ihatedhim, I knew I did. That was the one and only reason I was still stalking him. It had to be. Because if not, thenwhy?
One night, as I sat outside a community theater for hours while he was in there, it dawned on me… I hadn’t eventhoughtabout Rey in almost a week.
This whole thing was supposed to be about her. If it wasn’t, then…what the fuck was I doing??
My emotions were running high. The voidReywas supposed to fill had somehow been filled bythis fucking guy. And it confused me so deeply, I began to simmer, on the verge of a rage blackout. I followed him home, where I sat stubbornly and waited for that golden opportunity to present itself. I was making this happen tonight.No more bullshit.
I was going to flip Michelangelo Russo upside-fucking-down.
