Page 25 of Love Me Stalk Me
I wonder how long it'll take for her to realize that.
I almost look at their other messages. My finger hovers over the command that would open their entire conversation history, showing me every word they've ever exchanged. I want to see what he says to her, if he's ever said anything worth a damn at all.
Her phone pings with another activity notification. I sit up straighter, my spine rigid against the chair.
She's opening Obsess AI.
I watch, tracking the screen as the interface boots up, its sleek black-and-gold theme glowing against the dark. The tagline floats across the top:
The perfect lover. Always watching. Always waiting. Always yours.
The irony doesn't escape me.
She pauses at the main menu.
Hesitating.
Then she tapsCreate Your Perfect Man.
My fingers tighten around the armrest of my chair. I shouldn't be watching this. This is beyond invasive, beyond inappropriate. This is a violation I can't justify,even to myself.
But I don't stop.
I watch as she selectsProtective.
I exhale slowly, dragging my tongue over my teeth. The choices are revealing, telling me exactly what she wants in a way that conversation never could.
ThenConfident.
I feel a strange thrill knowing she wants someone protective. Someone confident. I want to tell myself these are generic traits anyone might want, but something tells me she's being more deliberate than that.
She selectsReassuring and supportivefrom the communication styles, and my chest tightens painfully.
When was the last time anyone reassured her? Anyone told her she was doing enough? That she was enough? I already know the answer from watching her with Evan. No one does. That's precisely the void this app is designed to fill.
Then she addsIntense and passionate.
My reaction is visceral, immediate. Heat rushes through me at the thought of what that selection means—that beneath her professional exterior, she wants someone who won't hold back, who will consume her completely.
Then my body goes rigid as she begins selecting physical traits for her digital companion.
I shouldn't be able to know what's running through her head as she taps through the selections, adjusting features, customizing her perfect man. But with each choice, the picture becomes clearer.
I watch as she makes him tall. Strong. Broad shoulders, tattoos. Not just any tattoos, but a full sleeve of them.
Dark hair.
My teeth grind as she scrolls to the next option.
Eye color.
She hesitates, and for the first time since I started watching, I second-guess myself. I find myself holding my breath. Because what it feels like, is that she’s buildingme.
Maybe this is all in my head.
Maybe she's not buildingme.
If she picks something else—brown, blue, gray—then I'll know I'm imagining it. That I'm projecting my own desires onto her random selections. That this is just some fantasy she's putting together, nothing more.
