Chapter 6

Caroline

*****

I kept my head down as I hurried home. If he was following me, I didn't want to know. Or did I? He did proclaim himself as my stalker. I mean, I should have been scared, right? There was no soul behind those eyes. They were hollow, dark, abysmal.

And yet, looking into them, I didn't feel afraid. The darkness in them couldn't scare me. I had no idea what my stalker's intentions towards me were and even I had to admit that they probably weren't good. He was older than me. Old enough to have a trace of dark stubble along his chiseled cheeks. Old enough to have multiple very nice vehicles.

So why? What business did he have stalking me, some nobody high school girl? He had to be a pedophile. Granted, I was technically legal but what else could a guy like him want from me? It's not like I had anything to steal but my virginity.

That should scare the shit out of me. I've never been intimate with anyone, much less an older guy. If he wants to hurt me, I should be running for the hills and calling the police.

But I know that if he hadn't told me to get out of his car, I would have stayed. I would've sat there and talked to him as long as he'd let me. I was pretty confident he wasn't going to hurt me. He'd had every chance to kidnap me in the last week. There were plenty of opportunities when I'd been walking alone, the street deserted. Even when I didn't fight him and got in his car, he could've taken me anywhere. Tossed me in a river and did a happy dance.

He didn't, though. He kicked me out at the gas station by my house and left me frustrated, aching. The feel of his fingers wrapped firmly but gently around my wrist still clung to my skin like a ghost. I didn't know what all his blabbering about idiot high school boys and Greg's sweatshirt was all about, but I hoped to God I got the chance to find out. I'd never been so excited to see someone again.

What the actual hell was wrong with me?

I finally reached Freya's house and used my key to get in. Before I shut the door behind me, I glanced around at the street. No blacked out truck or Cadillac to be seen. I shut the door and sauntered back to my room. Tossing my backpack to the floor, I flopped down on my bed with a groan.

Only a few more weeks and I would be done with school. I really needed to get a job. College wasn't even on my radar at this point, despite the counselor's unconvincing speech. She went from talking about Uncle James death to the importance of getting a college degree. Like, how was that supposed to inspire me?

I forced myself to sit up on my elbows and looked around the room I'd slowly claimed as my own over the passing days. I'd situated my lamps on the desk and beside the bed, hung the two paintings from my mother on the walls, and arranged a desk for myself in the corner. Freya had gifted me a potted orchid that now occupied the corner of the desk. I sighed and the force my breath sent a waft of cologne up from the sweatshirt I wore.

Getting up, I wandered over to my mirror and looked at my reflection. Greg's sweatshirt was huge on me given he was over a foot taller than me. It made me look petite, almost slim. I ran my fingers over the soft material, recalling the tragedy of today.

—Three hours earlier—

The lunch bell rang and everyone stood up. My stomach had been growling all period so I was quick to rush to the cafeteria before the masses. Today was chicken finger and I loved chicken in all its various recipes and forms. As I walked through the line, the lunch lady slopped a rather watery-looking heap of mashed potatoes and green beans on my plate. I hurried over to pay for my tray and then rushed out to my seat at the picnic table.

As I stepped outside, I immediately noticed someone at my table. The head of groomed hair situated on a pair of rippling shoulders turned towards me. Greg? I frowned at the broad smile he gave.

"Come sit, Wilder," he encouraged with a friendly wave.

I bit back a sigh and walked over to the table, setting down across from him. Couldn't he come pester me when I wasn't about to chow down like a little pig? My stomach grumbled loudly and I felt my face get hot.

He chuckled. "Let's eat, yeah?"

I noticed he had unpacked a boxed lunch with a sandwich, protein shake, beef jerky stick, banana, and a bag of carrots. Least to say, I was impressed.

"So, what's up?" I asked hesitantly, bringing a chicken tender to my mouth. It was warm and smelled delicious.

Greg shrugged his massive shoulders and popped a carrot in his mouth. "Nothing much. Trying to get ready for the history final. I know it's going to kick my ass."

"Who'd you have?"

"Jane. She's kind of a bitch," he admitted, almost sheepish.

I smiled and nibbled on the chicken. "Yeah, I had her. She's definitely a bitch. She's just hot, so no one wants to admit it."

He nodded. "Was her final hard?"

Blowing out a breath, I tried to remember last semester. "Uh. Yeah, I mean just as hard as the other tests. It's not cumulative, though."

"Oh, thank God. I'd need like a year to study for that."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "I had no idea you were such a nerd, Bush."

"Gotta keep my grades up for Tech. Maybe you could help me study?"

I squinted at him. Was that what this was about? He just wanted me to help him study? I thought about how genuine he was, though, and the fact that he was my class valedictorian. Of course he wasn't using me for that.

"Yeah, sure." I shrugged.

He took a large bite from his sandwich and swallowed it down. "So, where're you going?"

"For what?" I asked, chuckling.

"College, dingus."

My stomach dropped. Pinching my lips, I looked away. "Uh, well, nowhere as of right now."

Greg set his sandwich down. "Wait, seriously?"

"I mean . . . yeah."

"But, you're so smart?"

I scoffed. "Thanks. It's not really about that, though."

"Oh." He cleared his throat and picked his sandwich back up. "I'm not trying to pry, sorry. I just . . . you could easily have been in my place. You could easily get into wherever you want."

"I appreciate it. I just don't want to do more school," I said. "Well, that and I don't have the money to go. Even with scholarships, I'd have to work to afford rent and food. They don't care so much that you're smart if you're not an athlete or musician." I smiled when he looked up to soften my remark. He was being nice and I didn't want to offend him.

Greg chewed thoughtfully. "So, what are your plans after graduation then?"

"Work, hopefully." I smiled wryly at him over my water bottle. "Know anyone who's hiring?"

He indulged me with a stunning, perfectly straight half-smile. "I work at the depot, so honestly couldn't tell you. Unless you want to work with a bunch of old men who liked misogynist and racist jokes."

I grimaced. "Yeah, I think I'll have to pass, but thanks."

We laughed for a moment. I realized I was finally relaxed around him. Probably for the first time ever.