Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“At my party, you said you’d seen many seasons of my show, not every season,” he returns. “So it stood to reason you hadn’t started the last one yet.”
“You pay attention to everything, don’t you?”
“Everything involving you, absolutely.”
His words should probably alarm me. It’s not normal to be so preoccupied with me. Nothing about him seems particularly normal.
But rather than alarm me, it feels oddly comforting. It’s like when I felt safe in his arms, even though, practically speaking, I wasn’t.
The ground feels too slippery to respond to his last text, and we’re almost home anyway, so I tuck my phone away and enjoy the rest of the ride.
Despite the craziness of this whole day, I feel somewhat relaxed.
Last year, even last week, I couldn’t have envisioned a day when I ran into Dylan Prescott when I wasn’t prepared to face him and managed to feel relaxed later that same evening.
What was once unfathomable now feels almost… natural.
My impulsive words to Dylan on the sidewalk were fueled by fury and a sense of helplessness I’ve lived with for far too long. Wielding Silvan like a round shield made me feel impenetrable if only for a moment.
It wasn’t real, though.
I was just Wendy, lost in a daydream with a familiar but made-up friend.
A protector.
Even knowing it’s fiction, the idea makes me smile.
When we pull up to Mom’s house, Hugh lets us out of our prison chariot, and Mom thanks him with enthusiasm before we head into the house.
I think about asking Hugh not to tell Silvan about the run-in on Newbury Street, but I’m realistic about where Hugh’s loyalties lie, so I don’t bother.
Chapter Fourteen
Silvan
I watch my phone for hours. During the quick flight home and then the ride back to the house; before I shower and as soon as I get out.
I’m waiting for a goodnight text of sorts, but one never comes.
I suppose my hopes were a little high, but it would have been easier to plan the rest of my night if my lovely Sophie had told me what the fuck she was doing. It’s pertinent information, but like any pertinent information, I can get it another way.
Hugh told me she’d be spending the night at her mom’s, so the cameras I had installed in her dorm while I had the place empty are of no use to me. I toggle between feeds to make sure she didn’t just say that to throw me off her scent, but once I’ve confirmed she didn’t make it back to her dorm, I formulate my plan.
When I was in her room the other night, I didn’t plant anything. Wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know I’d meet her, let alone that I would feel the need to monitor her every move once I did.
I’ll have to work with a limited toolbox tonight and prepare better for next time.
Before I leave the house, I collect a few things to take with me.
Spy pen? Of course. In fact, I grab two. One for her school bag, one for the desk in her bedroom. These are cheap ones just to use in a pinch, but they’ll do until I get some better equipment.
My grandfather was a big believer in having gadgets like these as soon as they came available to him. Before tech was as advanced as it is now, he and his father before him had sneakier ways of making insurance policies for themselves, making sure they had evidence they could use against their friends should those friendships ever go sour.
I’m not looking for anything to use against Sophie, it’s just the only way I can find out things I want to know about her since she refuses to spend time with me voluntarily.
Plus, all right, I want to keep an eye out for any potential competition.
Not that I consider other men to truly be competition, but if she has any little crushes on anyone else that might be preventing her from spending time with me… well, I’ll have to handle them.
Once I have what I need, I head out.
I don’t drive much, but I drive myself tonight. I park in the street and walk to her house just in case anyone’s awake.
I check around the dark house to ensure no one’s hidden in some back room. It would be a fucking catastrophe to get caught by her mom, but I was in and out easy enough the other night, so as long as no one’s awake, I’m not too worried about it.
I draw my lockpick set out of my left pocket and finesse the cheap lock. It’s no challenge at all, but I’ve been picking locks since I was ten years old with an “inappropriate” crush on our maid’s daughter. Her mom bought a lock for their door when I kept sneaking in, so I had to figure out how to get past it without a key.