3. Stalker?

The worst part of detention wasn't the punishment. It wasn't even the mopping. It was the fact that I had to share the room with him.

Victor Blackwood, golden boy of the school, was actually here for once. Properly punished. Maybe the universe did have a shred of justice left.

He sloshed his mop across the floor without focus, like he was scrubbing thoughts instead of dirt.

'How did this even happen? I was just watching her from behind and made a momentary immature mistake. Is Anne going to jump at me like that since I made the worst possible first impression?'

Damn right I would.

'She looks so sexy even when she's pissed off. We are alone though. If I could I'd—'

"What the hell are you looking at?" I snapped, snapping him straight out of his perv-loop. He jumped like I'd thrown the mop at his head.

"Wh-what? A-am I not allowed to use my eyes now?" he stammered, holding his mop out like it could save him.

Idiot.

"Hurry up and clean so I can get the hell out of here," I said, already regretting not skipping detention altogether.

"Right! Let's divide the cleaning up more!" he said quickly, as if structure would save him from further accusations.

"From here all the way to the back of the classroom is all you, jackass," I said, gesturing like I was drawing a line in blood. "I'll just clean the front around the teacher's desk."

Best to keep him far away now that we were alone. If he got within arm's reach, I might not resist launching my mop at his head.

"What? Isn't that way too much? Even the bathrooms are bigger than that! How'd I get the biggest area?"

"Isn't that a given?" I narrowed my eyes. "All this happened because of you, after all."

No response. Not even in his thoughts.

Good.

***

I ended up sitting on top of a desk, casually tapping through a mobile game while he mopped in slow, uneven streaks. His thoughts hadn't stopped racing since the second we walked in.

'Now that I'm looking from here, the one eye makes her look more distinguished than everyone else. Not to mention she's really grown into her body nicely. Shit, go down!'

He was seriously hopeless.

Once I got over the initial shock that Victor Blackwood had been the one thinking this stuff about me, I realized he was just like every other teenage boy—horny and pathetic. The cool, put-together image everyone had of him?

Shattered. Cracked like a dropped mirror.

Now I just had to figure out why I'd been hearing his thoughts near my house.

I accidentally dropped my mop and bent over to pick it up.

'Her top button is undone! No undershirt! I can see her cleavage line again! It's hot! For fuck's sake pull it together, Victor!'

Definitely not calm. Not collected. Just a panic-fueled meathead with fantasies and no impulse control.

'Is she really okay? Does she really not care about me kissing her? But because she hit me, doesn't that mean she hated it? Fuck, but I hit her first! She should've come at me right then! Why did she wait until we were in a classroom full of people? I thought she really didn't know... did the nurse see and tell her? Did she find a clue that I've been following her around?'

I looked up and unfortunately, we made eye contact. Again. He was staring.

"Again, what the hell are you looking at?" I asked, leveling my glare at him.

"I was just making sure you were doing your part," he said with a half-shrug and an eye roll. He could win awards for acting. "It looks like you have."

"Hey." I lowered my phone. If I wanted answers, I might as well speak directly instead of mining his thoughts. "W-what?" he asked, wary.

"Why'd you hit me earlier?"

"Because you were talking shit." He said it so simply, I almost forgot to be mad.

It still pissed me off. "So it wasn't you?"

"No!"

He was such a good liar, it was scary. If I couldn't read minds, I'd be completely fooled.

"Well, I've found the culprit regardless," I said, voice dry. "So it's enough. I just feel like shit after being sexually harassed by some guy I don't even know and I wanted to know the culprit's identity. I guess I've already gotten revenge."

"Did you find the culprit?" he asked with the nerve of someone who still thought this conversation was winnable.

'I can't believe she's calling my pure love for her sexual harassment!'

Pure love? What a joke.

"You're right here in front of me," I snapped. "Stop acting like someone else did it!"

"It's not me!"

"I'm not going to beat you if you just admit it!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"DAMMIT!!! JUST FUCKING ADMIT IT NOW!!!"

"FINE!!! I LIKE YOU!!!" he blurted, face exploding red as the words shot from his mouth like a cannon.

...What an idiot.

That's not what I meant—but I guess I'd take it. A confession is still an admission, even if he thought he was being clever.

I patted his shoulder mockingly and gave him a thumbs-up. "Okay. Now that you've admitted to it, I can let it go. Good job."

"Do you think you're funny or something?" Victor growled, jaw tight. "What with you ignoring the confession you forced out of me like that?"

"Oh, that?" I tilted my head, pretending to think. "I'm not a fan of people. And you are one. So I'm not interested."

His face collapsed.

"Well, that's an hour," I said, checking the time. I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and made a point not to look back. "Good luck with your studies. See you in detention tomorrow."

'She's so much more different than I expected her to be. As expected, I can't just sit still.'

Whatever that meant, I didn't care.

I was done for the day. And done with Victor Blackwood.

Or... at least I wanted to be.

***

I walked home with the kind of relief that only came after a long day of bullshit. Detention was over. Victor had finally shut his mouth—out loud, at least—and the sun was dipping low enough to cast long shadows across the sidewalk.

Still, as glad as I was to be done with the day, I knew what was waiting for me: no one.

Dad was working late again, and in a few days he'd be flying overseas. Pretty sure he was bringing his newest girlfriend along—some nice young actress he met at a networking brunch. So yeah, I was going back to an empty house. Again.

I decided to take the long route home. The streets were quieter, more scenic. Fewer people, fewer thoughts.

Or so I hoped.

That's when I felt it—again. That familiar prickling weight on the back of my neck. The sense that someone was watching me too intently.

Could it be that bastard Victor? He did say he wasn't going to let it go.

I turned, already loading a mental shotgun of insults to fire at him... but there was no one there. Just the usual people walking by—an old lady with a cart, a student in a hoodie, a guy eating from a takeout container.

Still, I swore it had been him.

I narrowed my eyes and turned back around, forcing myself to keep moving.

But I hadn't even made it a quarter of the way home when it crept up again—that same eerie sensation, like I was prey and something was circling closer.

Stopping in front of a bakery window, I rummaged through my backpack until my fingers closed around something small and metallic. The hand mirror I stole from the nurse's office last week—something I'd grabbed without thinking, a paranoid "just in case" moment.

I flipped it open and tilted it, catching the reflection behind me.

My stomach flipped.

There he was—just far enough to avoid suspicion, standing at a slant to me, pretending to glance in a store window.

Victor.

Why couldn't he just leave it alone?

I clicked the mirror shut, slid it back into my bag, and resumed walking. This time, I subtly increased my pace—just enough to put distance between us, not enough to draw attention. My heart thudded against my ribs. The tension in my spine twisted tighter with every step.

And that hunted feeling? It didn't fade.

When I spotted the convenience store I always visited, I changed direction instantly and made a quick dash inside. The automatic doors whooshed open just in time, and I slipped through like I was diving for cover.

Inside, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My chest ached from how tightly I'd locked it down. I turned to glance out the front window, praying I'd lost him.

But no.

Victor walked right past the store, catching my gaze at the corner of his eye. And then, he smiled—a small, confident, predatory smirk—before crossing the street to a shop across from mine.

He walked inside like he was genuinely browsing, but he didn't even try to hide that he was watching me through the glass.

Okay. Yeah. This was creepy—even knowing who it was made it worse.

I ducked behind one of the snack aisles, heart pounding in my throat. My hand gripped my chest like I could physically hold it down. I really should've stolen the nurse's pepper spray too. Or her taser. But no—I'd been a good little citizen. I'd worried about her safety instead.

Stupid.

I crept between the aisles, peeking out occasionally to check if he'd left, but he hadn't. He remained there like a vulture, casually flipping through magazines he clearly wasn't reading. Just waiting.

I tightened my grip on my bag strap like I was trying to strangle it.

This was getting ridiculous. Just leave already. I rejected him. What more did he want?

The worst part? I couldn't hear his thoughts across the street. That silence made it worse. No creepy monologue, no awkwardly horny blurts, just... quiet. Unknown. Dangerous.

"You buy something?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin and whipped around with a startled gasp.

Miss Kim, the convenience store owner, stood behind me with her arms crossed.

"It's just you," I said, forcing a shaky smile. My heart was still hammering.

"What you doing here?" she asked, frowning. Her eyes scanned me—probably noting my clenched jaw and trembling fingers.

"Um, I'm shopping," I said, trying for nonchalant. "Because that's what you do when you visit a convenience store, Miss Kim. Sorry for looking suspicious."

Why was I lying? She could've helped me. But instead, I kept my mouth shut like always. Glancing out the window, I saw Victor still in the other store.

God, and now Miss Kim's Korean thoughts were screaming in my ears—not that I could translate them, but the tone? Yeah. She was stressed, suspicious, and her mental yelling was not helping.

To shut her up, I grabbed a random bag of chips and marched to the register. She quieted down once I paid. Maybe I didn't look so suspicious with a receipt in hand.

I stepped out of the store, pausing just outside the doors.

Swallowing hard, I started walking again. No fast steps this time. No panic on the surface.

As long as Victor stayed out of earshot, maybe I could pretend none of this was happening. Maybe I could sleep tonight.

Hopefully... he wouldn't escalate any further than he already had.