Page 151 of Love Me Stalk Me
I scream.
I thrash.
I try to twist free, to break away, but I can't.
He's too heavy.
Too much.
His knee wedges between my legs, forcing them apart. My skirt rides up, exposing my thighs.
I choke on a sob, fighting harder, writhing beneath him. Tears blur my vision, hot tracks streaming down my temples and into my hair.
A memory floods my mind.
Cal.
His voice:"I'm always watching. If you ever need an out, you signal me."
Signal him.
Say his name.
"Cal—"
The moment his name leaves my lips, Evan's hand swings.
His hand connects with my ear and pain explodes through my skull. It’s white-hot and disorienting. My head whips to the side, my vision tilting as my world becomes a kaleidoscope of blurred shapes.
My ears ring, a high-pitched whine that drowns out all other sound.
The world spins faster.
Darkness.
HE UNZIPPED HIS PANTS. SO I UNHINGED HIS JAW.
CAL
Izzy's been avoidingme all morning.
She thinks I haven't noticed.
But I have.
She's been sidestepping me, moving through the store like she's got blinders on, keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact. She rushes from one department to the next, all business, all focus—except I know her well enough now to see that it's forced.
Gone is our usual rhythm—the playful exchanges, the knowing glances across the floor, the slight curve of her lips when I catch her eye. Instead, there's a deliberate distance, a careful choreography to stay out of my orbit.
And I let her.
I give her space, respecting the invisible boundary she's drawn. I don't ambush her between the aisles or manufacture reasons to be in her presence. Because I understand what she needs right now—time to process, to sort through the tangled mess of emotions after our kiss.
She'll come back to me when she's ready. So I give her space. But that doesn't mean I'm not watching.
By the time the store starts winding down for the day, I'm back in the security suite, leaned back in my chair, eyes locked on one monitor.
Izzy’s sitting in her office. Her phone is clutched in her hand, but she remains still—no scrolling through messages, no typing emails, no productive movement whatsoever. Just staring, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
