Page 12 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“Don’t worry,” Devin assures the child. “You’ll get to play, but you must eat first.”
“Okay.”
I ordered a kid’s meal for Jimmy and a chicken sandwich for myself. Devin ordered a double bacon cheeseburger meal and chicken nuggets and pays for everything.
We get to a table next to the play area.
“I thought you wouldn’t indulge yourself with junk food,” I say, recalling some facts I read about him. “You prefer whole wheat bread and chicken or fish.”
He smiles. “You know me well, Lexi.”
Butterflies flutter in my tummy. Damn. I have to be careful with what I say. “Mmm, you’re a famous person.”
“He’s famous?” Jimmy’s eyes light up as he stares at Devin. “Like Superman?”
“Shhh,” I shush the child. “Hurry and eat your meal.”
Devin chuckles and pats Jimmy’s head and says to me, “Occasionally I indulge in junk food, but with moderation,” he says with a shrug.
“That’s hardly moderation,” I stifle a laugh. “Double burger, chicken nugget, and fries.”
“The chicken nuggets are for you,” he says.
“What? No way.”
“You don’t like them?”
“I do, but I’m trying to be on a diet,” I say. I don’t know where the idea came from. It just entered my head. I’m just suddenly aware of my imperfection next to the perfect model. My belly is a few inches too thick, and so is my butt. My breasts, though, aren’t as large as I want them to be.
“There’s nothing wrong with your figure,” he says, his eyes roaming me up and down for a second. “You are perfect.”
My cheeks burn, and I focus my attention on Jimmy while chewing the burger. To my annoyance, my son giggles.
“What are you laughing at?” I chide and rumple his hair.
“He thinks you’re pretty, Mommy.” Jimmy says. “He likes you.”
Oh, God. How is he able to pick up all these? The child is too clever.
I’m too embarrassed to speak. Devin doesn’t seem to mind. “The child is very perceptive,” he comments and makes me flush even more.
Jimmy finishes his last bite and doesn’t wait to run into the playground. I’m about to follow him when Devin insists I finish my meal first.
“I’ll go with him,” he says to me.
From the glass, I watch the supermodel who was a being from another planet to me just two weeks ago, helping my son into the ball pit.
How did it all happen? Was it because of my obsession with him? I never prayed for my wish to come true. Hell, I never wished it to be true. But did God somehow detect my obsession for him and take pity on me? Did I accidentally establish some sort of telepathic connection between us with my frequent visit to his social media sites?
This whole thing is so surreal.
And yet, it feels natural at the same time. Devin and Jimmy seem to hit off the moment they meet, and they get along so well. After observing them for a while, I even have the impression that they are father and son. I can’t help but trust him and feel safe with him. He seems to genuinely like being with my boy and isn’t doing it perfunctorily or for any ulterior motives.
I clean up the table and enter the play area to watch them play. Jimmy is unusually excited and bold. He used to be timid on the slide and always pause before coming down. But now, he doesn’t hesitate to slide down, perhaps knowing if anything goes wrong, Devin’s powerful arms will for sure catch him. Devin is surprisingly attentive. “Sit up, Jimmy, curl your legs a bit,” he says to the child before he slides down.
A woman standing next to me is impressed by the man as well. “He’s so patient and caring. Your child is lucky to have such a wonderful dad. Look at my husband,” she says, nodding toward a man sitting inside the dining area, with his eyes glued to his cell phone.
“Oh, he…uh,” I want to tell her Devin isn’t Jimmy’s dad, but then what’s the point? I don’t even know her.
