Page 135 of Alphas Like Us
But I startthinking…
I got theguy.
I’m with mycrush.
My crush wants marriage. Andkids.
Withme.
Eventually.
I rub my face; my cheeks hurt as my grimace becomes a smile. “This must be an imaginary photo,” I tell Farrow because there’s no way in hell I’m admitting to thetruth.
“Not imaginary,” Farrow says. “It’s all ofthem—”
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.My back straightens, and I smack my flashlight thatflickers.
“Maximoff? Talk tome.”
“Do you have access to the security cameras outside?” I climb off the bed and leave my phone on the mattress, still onspeaker.Then I grab my switchblade in my right hand, flashlight staying in myleft.
“No. Not anymore.” Long strained silence passes through the line. I know Farrow hates that he’s not able to protect me, and he’s stuck across the city. “I’m texting Bruno to check the cameras,” he says. “Don’t open thewindow.”
My floorboards squeak beneath my weight, and I near the blowing curtains.Thwack.
Thwack.That can’t be a rock. It’s all I can think. Not arock.
Not abrick.
Not abaseball.
“Are you scared?” Farrow asks since I’m notspeaking.
“No…” My pulse pounds, but not out of fear. “I just want to know what the fuck it is.” I turn off my flashlight, and I draw open the curtain. Revealing the shutblinds.
Thwack.
A hard object bangs the glass, and I hear something else from outside.Buzzing.But not like a phone vibration. More likewhirling…
“Shit, this is killing me,” Farrow says, close to pained. His unsaid words:I wish I werethere.
I glance back at the phone on the bed, my stomach coiling. If he were here, he’d be right next to me, and he wouldn’t stop me. We both would do exactly what I’m about to do. Only we’d do ittogether.
“I’m not opening the window,” I assure him. “It’s probablynothing.”
“Stay on the line withme.”
“I will.” Wind howls, and I use the blade of my knife and lift up a blind. And then I peek out.Thwack.I don’t flinch.The heavy, whirlingobject…
“It’s a drone,” I tell Farrow as this mechanical helicopter thing flies into the window again.Thwack.“It has a sign. It says…” In big bold letters, someone wrote on a piece of paper. “…I see you.” A chill pricks myneck.
I seeyou.
Farrow goesquiet.
I back away uneasily, the blind shutting. “I think there’s a camera on the drone.” It could belong to anyone, and I don’t care which human decided it’d be fun to film me in mybedroom.
It’s fuckedup.
