You'd Be Paranoid Too Book Novels & Stories

Right now… Paranoia isn’t a feeling anymore, It’s sadly now a habit. 42nd and 8th at 5:58 AM is dead. I can only see street cleaners, one cab and a guy sleeping on the pavement. Walking into the coffee shop, it smells like burnt espresso and rain when I push the door open. Eli’s already there at the corner of the cáfe. The hood of his sweater is up, his laptop open and his back… to the wall. He looks older in person. With dark circles enveloping his eyes and hands that don’t stop dancing on the keyboards.

But either way, giving in to panic wasn’t going to help anyone. I forced myself to relax into the chair. Smoothed out my expression. Took a slow sip of my cappuccino. “You okay?” Trevor asked, glancing up nervously from his cup. “Yeah,” I said smoothly. “Just… thinking.” He nodded, too distracted to dig deeper. His fingers trembled as he lifted the mug to his lips. I shifted slightly in my seat, just enough to keep the old man in my peripheral. He still hadn’t moved. My thoughts raced. If he’s watching us, is he alone? Is there someone else outside? A car parked down the block? Backup? Cameras? It was the kind of paranoia that would eat most people alive, but for me, it just made me sharper.

Loneliness had become tangible, almost suffocating. I approached the living room window, watching the empty street, thinking of Dane, Sophia, our baby, and everything at stake. The sense of vulnerability struck me again. What if something happened? What if someone really tried to hurt us? The paranoia wasn’t just unfounded fear; it was constant preparation for the inevitable.

The Shamen's words keep me on my toes, I kept on pacing back and forth after we had come back from meeting with him. " Why are you paranoid?". Mrs Fiona asked me such a devastating question. wasn't she there when I was told to not only safe the world from the impending doom, but, Nova's as well, and she's asking me why am being paranoid? " Ma'am, Didn't you hear what the witch said?" I asked her.

One look had made him shut up. I paused by the door, my attention going back to the room. It didn’t look any different than it did this morning. But something about it made me pause and just study it. Everything was in its place. Even the book Adriana had been reading was still on the bedside table. Of the past few weeks are anything to go by. Anything I feel has a valid reason. It isn’t just because. Something is going on and I should stay on guard. After staying for five more minutes and not seeing anything pop up or catch on fire. I tell myself maybe it’s time I fix my paranoia. I look over my shoulder way too much for it to be considered normal.

(Noah’s Pov) I’m not saying I regret hacking that crypto wallet. I’m just saying maybe—maybe—I should’ve waited until I wasn’t two Red Bulls deep and laughing at memes with my socks half off. Because now, I’m paranoid. Like... maybe-the-laptop-is-staring-at-me paranoid. But hey, what’s life without a little self-sabotage? “Yo, tell me again how you're not going to prison?” Pixel mumbles in my headset. Her voice is warped by the ambient hum of my dying PC fan, but still very judgmental.

As she’s about to leave the room, someone called. “Hey, I’m leaving the hotel. My car service is waiting,” she talked to the person on the other line. “I can’t wait to see you here. We’ve so much to see and talk about,” Noah said. Cela gave her room one final look. This is the place where she leaves her old self. “We wanted to go to a specific place and it didn’t matter if the road was rough and the journey was long. In the end, we found different places for ourselves but these places were the destinations where we were truly meant to go,” she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.

“Old you would’ve taken them all.” “I’m not her anymore.” “Sure you aren’t.” He’d laugh when I cursed him, smoke curling from nowhere. And I’d hate myself for answering him at all. Weeks stretched. The notebook filled with my own marks—alley blind spots, security cameras, guard shifts. Survival became a kind of homework, but paranoia kept pace. I felt it in the set of shoulders on the street, in cars idling too long, in the way people’s eyes snagged on me before sliding away.One night, when the city was drowned in rain, I found an abandoned bookstore window. The display was half-rotted, pages curling, words eaten by mold. Still, something about it tugged at me—quiet, forgotten, waiting.

Besides, there's no point in hurting about what couldn't be, or what is already passed. I jolt at the loud thud of something heavy dropping on the ground, pulling out of my thoughts and letting out a startled cry. I stand up slowly, my heartbeat erratic and my movements unsteady, as I go to inspect the source of the sound. A pile of books. "A freaking pile of books is what got me so scared?" I laugh to myself with a shake of my head, as I let out a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding. I guess I've been a little out of it lately, and the increasing feeling that I'm being watched adds to it. It might be starting to turn into paranoia, if something as little as this had my heart pacin

As much as I’m trying to remain positive, everything feels like I’m being fought. “That asshole. Anyway, we are here to celebrate. My book Launch is next week make sure that you show up early. I’ll even allow you to bring along your hot grumpy husband.” Nina teases and I laugh. The woman has never moved on from the day they met. We continue to smile and laugh when I feel like someone has been watching us. I’ve been paranoid since those messages reached me so it must be the same thing. It's all in my head I remind myself. I shake my head and take another sip as I listen to Nina’s plans for her book.