just want to know if you feel it too.”
I thought about the way my stomach fell into my knees when I first caught sight of him leaning against the bench. Was that the feeling he was referring to?
Whitley crossed the asphalt with quick strides until only inches separated us. “I’m drawn to you, Rileigh. I don’t know what it is—but I’d like to find out.” He lifted my hand and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, bringing goose bumps along my arm. “Do you feel it?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but snapped it shut when I felt the girlish scream of delight thick on my tongue. After several more PAC-MAN impressions, I gave up and remained silent.
Whitley smiled and it was nothing short of dazzling. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”
I could only nod.
“Cool. Then we’re still on for tomorrow night?”
I nodded again.
“I’m glad we had this talk.” He gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t even think about backing out.” He gave me a playfully menacing look. “I know where you live.”
10
J eannine rapped on the wall of the storage closet where I stood taking inventory of hair dye. “You look like hell, honey. I know it’s early, but go home.”
It took a moment for her words to register. As long as I’d been working at the salon, Jeannine had never let anyone go home early. Before she could change her mind I flung off my smock and scrambled for my car keys. I made a dash for the door, not even pausing with a snarky comeback when one of the stylists said something about me looking so haggard she could use my face as an anti-theft device.
A whole night all to myself! I thought of the many things I could do as I made the short drive home: reality show marathon, repaint my chipped nails, or even a nap! What wouldn’t make the list: obsessing over the attack and the voice in my head. This night was a chance to get my head on straight and forget about all the drama that had recently infected my life. I wasn’t about to waste it.
After pulling into my driveway, I practically bounced the entire way from my car to the front porch.
Use caution. All is not as it seems.
The reappearance of the voice caught me off guard, causing my foot to catch on the first step. My arms pin-wheeled, grasping for a hold as I stumbled forward. Luckily, my fingers found the door handle before I did a face plant in Debbie’s pedestal of long-dead marigolds beside the door. As I pulled myself back to my feet I loosened the storm door just enough that a folded sheet of yellow legal paper floated free from the crevice where it had been tucked.
I couldn’t explain it, but I had the sudden urge to go back to the car and drive away. I shook my head. It was just a piece of paper. That didn’t stop my breath from catching in my throat as I reached down and allowed my fingers to hover over the note, too afraid to actually touch it.
Five seconds passed with my breath held and fingers dangling centimeters away. Fifteen. Thirty. Nothing happened. “Rileigh, you really are a mental case,” I whispered as I snatched the paper. Despite the typical hot and humid St. Louis summer day, the notebook paper felt cool in my hand. I fought against the urge to tear it into a million pieces as my shaking fingers pulled the folds open, revealing the scratchy handwriting inside:
I know your secret.
I ran a fingertip along the edge of the paper and jerked it back when it sliced into my skin. A small bead of blood formed on the cut and I wiped it away on my shirt. Each biting throb was proof that I wasn’t going crazy—delusions didn’t draw blood.
Still, I had no explanation for the note or the message it carried. The only secret I kept was padded and enhanced my chest by one whole cup size. Unless …
Kim.
The answer hit me like an overturned pot of boiling water straight to the stomach. I crumpled the paper up and shoved it into my pocket as I stormed inside my house. It made perfect
I thought about the way my stomach fell into my knees when I first caught sight of him leaning against the bench. Was that the feeling he was referring to?
Whitley crossed the asphalt with quick strides until only inches separated us. “I’m drawn to you, Rileigh. I don’t know what it is—but I’d like to find out.” He lifted my hand and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, bringing goose bumps along my arm. “Do you feel it?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but snapped it shut when I felt the girlish scream of delight thick on my tongue. After several more PAC-MAN impressions, I gave up and remained silent.
Whitley smiled and it was nothing short of dazzling. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”
I could only nod.
“Cool. Then we’re still on for tomorrow night?”
I nodded again.
“I’m glad we had this talk.” He gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t even think about backing out.” He gave me a playfully menacing look. “I know where you live.”
10
J eannine rapped on the wall of the storage closet where I stood taking inventory of hair dye. “You look like hell, honey. I know it’s early, but go home.”
It took a moment for her words to register. As long as I’d been working at the salon, Jeannine had never let anyone go home early. Before she could change her mind I flung off my smock and scrambled for my car keys. I made a dash for the door, not even pausing with a snarky comeback when one of the stylists said something about me looking so haggard she could use my face as an anti-theft device.
A whole night all to myself! I thought of the many things I could do as I made the short drive home: reality show marathon, repaint my chipped nails, or even a nap! What wouldn’t make the list: obsessing over the attack and the voice in my head. This night was a chance to get my head on straight and forget about all the drama that had recently infected my life. I wasn’t about to waste it.
After pulling into my driveway, I practically bounced the entire way from my car to the front porch.
Use caution. All is not as it seems.
The reappearance of the voice caught me off guard, causing my foot to catch on the first step. My arms pin-wheeled, grasping for a hold as I stumbled forward. Luckily, my fingers found the door handle before I did a face plant in Debbie’s pedestal of long-dead marigolds beside the door. As I pulled myself back to my feet I loosened the storm door just enough that a folded sheet of yellow legal paper floated free from the crevice where it had been tucked.
I couldn’t explain it, but I had the sudden urge to go back to the car and drive away. I shook my head. It was just a piece of paper. That didn’t stop my breath from catching in my throat as I reached down and allowed my fingers to hover over the note, too afraid to actually touch it.
Five seconds passed with my breath held and fingers dangling centimeters away. Fifteen. Thirty. Nothing happened. “Rileigh, you really are a mental case,” I whispered as I snatched the paper. Despite the typical hot and humid St. Louis summer day, the notebook paper felt cool in my hand. I fought against the urge to tear it into a million pieces as my shaking fingers pulled the folds open, revealing the scratchy handwriting inside:
I know your secret.
I ran a fingertip along the edge of the paper and jerked it back when it sliced into my skin. A small bead of blood formed on the cut and I wiped it away on my shirt. Each biting throb was proof that I wasn’t going crazy—delusions didn’t draw blood.
Still, I had no explanation for the note or the message it carried. The only secret I kept was padded and enhanced my chest by one whole cup size. Unless …
Kim.
The answer hit me like an overturned pot of boiling water straight to the stomach. I crumpled the paper up and shoved it into my pocket as I stormed inside my house. It made perfect
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