Page 65 of Love Me Stalk Me
I go completely still.
He gives her ass a squeeze, then lets go before anyone can see.
Except I see.
The control it takes for me to stay still is inhuman. My fingers dig into my palm, and my entire body shakes with rage.
Monroe tilts his head, putting on his best oh, whoops, that was totally an accident face.
Izzy doesn't react. Not outwardly. She just keeps going. Like she didn't just get groped in broad daylight in her owndamn store.
I clench my fists.
I gave her my word.
I wouldn't cause problems for her.
I'd wait.
She knows she just has to say my name, and I'll be there.
I force myself to breathe. To stay put. And then someone else steps into the frame.
I frown. The guy looks familiar. Then my brain catches up.
Evan.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Evan walks in like he owns the place, like he's someone worth noticing. It takes me about three seconds to figure him out. The way he carries himself. The way he talks too loudly, smiles too hard. The desperate undercurrent to his confidence, like he's constantly seeking validation.
It's textbook.
Low self-esteem.
So he finds a woman who should know she's out of his league, and instead of building her up, he drags her down—makes her question herself, chip away at her own confidence—all so he can feel bigger in comparison. A classic move from insecure men everywhere.
I grind my teeth, watching.
Monroe lights up when he sees Evan.
They shake hands, and clap each other on the shoulder.
Ah.
So they know each other. They're all grins and fake camaraderie, two men who think way too highly of themselves.
Figures.
What sticks out more, though?
Evan doesn't even look at Izzy.
Doesn't greet her.
Doesn't acknowledge her at all.
Just walks in, shakes hands with his buddy, and starts talking like she's furniture. Like she's not even worthy of basic courtesy from the man who's supposed to care about her.
