A Sexy Stalker

SKYLAR

The flowers sit in the trash for the rest of my shift. Maya suggested donating them to the hospital, but I can't stand the thought of those roses existing anywhere near sick people.

When I finally get home exhausted, April is making dinner. The smell of her famous stir-fry fills our small apartment, cutting through my fog of irritation.

"You look like death." She glances up from the wok, concern creasing her forehead. "Bad shift?"

I drop my bag by the door and collapse onto our secondhand couch, springs groaning in protest. "Your rich bad boy really did show up at the library."

April turns down the heat, giving me her full attention. "What did he do?"

"Brought me roses that probably cost more than our rent and refused to leave until I threatened to call security." I press my palms against my eyes, trying to erase the memory of all those watching faces. "I'm thinking about filing a restraining order."

April moves to sit beside me, her hand warm on my shoulder. "Technically, he just asked you out. He hasn't done anything illegal."

I stand abruptly, hating how quick she is to defend him. "Whose side are you on?" I scream, storming to my room without waiting for her response.

I lie in bed scrolling through Liam's I*******m, each post a glossy tableau of privilege: yacht parties in Monaco, courtside seats at basketball games. He and his friends all have that same careless beauty that comes from never worrying about money.

The next morning, I wolf down a turkey sandwich and coffee, finishing before April emerges from her room. I can't handle another conversation with her about how cute Liam's pursuit is.

I slip into Constitutional Law just as Professor Morrison reaches the podium. Settling into my usual seat near the back, I pull out my laptop and try to focus on anything other than the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

The lecture is on the Fourth Amendment and reasonable expectation of privacy. The irony isn't lost on me.

Halfway through Morrison's explanation of Katz v. United States, the door opens. Liam walks in with easy confidence in his leather jacket and perfectly tousled hair.

He isn't enrolled in this class. I know that for a fact. Yet there he is, scanning the room until his eyes find mine. His smile widens. He approaches Morrison, says something too quiet for me to hear, and hands over what looks like a permission slip.

Morrison glances at it, nods, and gestures to the empty seats. Liam chooses the one directly behind me.

I can feel his presence like static electricity raising the hair on the back of my neck. I try to focus on Morrison's explanation, but all I can think about is the person breathing quietly behind me.

A piece of paper lands on my desk, folded into a neat square. I don't touch it. Just keep typing my notes, pretending I haven't noticed.

Another paper lands beside the first. Then another. By the time Morrison dismisses class, there are five folded notes scattered across my desk like fallen leaves.

I sweep them into my bag without reading them and practically run from the lecture hall.

In the bathroom, I finally look at one. Even his handwriting is annoyingly attractive. "I've never felt this way about anyone, Skylar. I'm dead serious."

"How fcking original," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I crumple the paper and throw it in the nearest trash can. The others follow, unread.

When I open my drawer at the library that afternoon, I find a velvet box, unmistakably expensive. Inside is a diamond charm bracelet, without any note I don't need one to know who this kind of gift is from.

"Oh my god." A regular stares over my shoulder. "That's gorgeous."

I snap the box shut, shoving it into my bag. "What can I help you find today?" She smiles sheepishly and hurries away.

I look back into the drawer. There are gift cards to restaurants I have only heard of, a Hermès scarf in dove gray. Every item is a piercing reminder that Liam Pierce has resources I can't begin to match.

April finds me that evening sitting on our apartment floor, surrounded by the unopened gift boxes.

"Holy shit." She stares at the display. "Sky, do you know how lucky you are? I wish Chris would pursue me like this." I shoot her a warning look.

She kneels beside me, picking up the Hermes box. She opens it carefully, letting the silk pool in her hands. "This is worth at least five thousand dollars."

I snatch the scarf out of her hands and gather the boxes against my chest, retreating to my room before she can say anything else.

I shut the door with my foot and press my back to it, taking a slow breath, pretending for one impossible second that this whole nightmare isn't swallowing my whole life.