Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
But they won’t be home for another week or two, so now would be the time to experiment…
*
“We should be home Monday,” Mom says.
“That’s great. I’m glad Grandma’s letting you claw your way from her clutches.” Keeping the phone to my ear, I open the front door and lean down, picking up a package off the porch.
“We’ll see,” Mom continues as I head back inside. “She’s able to get around, and I think Cathy can handle this better on her own.” Cathy is Mom’s sister, a.k.a. another of Linda’s favorite victims. “And if we need to come back, it’s an easy flight. I can’t imagine if we’d tried to do this before the pandemic, but your dad and I’ve had a pretty easy time working virtually.”
While we chat, I set my box on the kitchen table.
“So what have you been up to?” she asks.
“Um…not much.”
Kind of true. It’s been a few days since I made pizza for Zane, and since then, I’ve mostly been watching TV or making meals for my neighbor/stalker. Whenever I take them over, he acts so appreciative and tells me how much he’s enjoyed whatever I last made him, and it’s enough to encourage me to keep doing it. It also feels like the least I can do for him since he’s dedicating so much of his time to watching me.
After the break-in, it’s comforting knowing someone’s keeping an eye on things because since that night, I’ve been nervous, fearing that intruder might return to finish what he started.
But it’s quiet. Maybe this is the calm before the storm?
Or is it an indication that this is all in Zane’s mind and that really was a burglar whose timing lined up with Zane’s paranoia?
Whatever’s going on, I enjoy having Zane watching me, and not exclusively for my safety. I must admit that since the pizza, I’ve become more apt to walk around my room without a shirt on, playing with the blinds so he can see me, even if only for a minute. It’s made me more than a little curious about some things about myself that I hadn’t previously considered.
I chat with Dad too, and by the time I hang up, I’m in my room with the package that arrived earlier. I was following the tracking, so I’m not surprised when I open it and see a postcard with a graphic of my product along with a variety of others this adult store offers. I set the card and paper packaging beside the box, then retrieve the funky, black, S-shaped toy that was one of the less intimidating shapes and sizes on the site. Still, the thought of putting this thing in my ass makes me cringe. But if that’s such a strange thing to me, why am I considering it?
I never considered things like this before I met Zane. And it’s not like he’s mentioned anything other than finding me attractive and that little bit about my ass, so why would that get me thinking about sticking things up it?
Okay…maybe I get that one.
I tuck the little fella into my nightstand and toss out the packaging and product info in the trash bin by my desk before sliding my phone out of my back pocket and texting Zane:
ME: My parents are coming back next Monday.
I’ll feel safer once they’re home. If someone is trying to abduct me, that’ll be much more difficult with them around. And make Zane’s work a lot easier. But that’s not the only reason I’m texting him.
ME: So…since I know you’re not doing anything on Friday, how about you swing by and I’ll make you something?
I’d like to see him again. Not only stop by his place to drop off chicken tikka masala, but to chat with him.
I’m relieved he doesn’t leave me waiting. Although, based on what he’s said about watching me, I guess this shouldn’t be a huge surprise.
ZANE: That’d be good. I finished off that last bit of the tikka masala, so it’ll be nice to eat again. :)
The corners of my lips tug into a smile, and now he’s got me thinking about what I should make for his visit.
When Zane arrives on Friday, he’s looking healthier than when we first met. It was a couple of weeks ago, and maybe it’s just in my head, but his cheeks look fuller, and the bags under his eyes aren’t as severe. I take credit for some small part in that.
I invite him in, and he starts for the kitchen, but I say, “Actually, before we eat, I wanted to show you something.”
His forehead wrinkles up. “What is it?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
As we head upstairs, he tails behind me. I glance back at him. He looks adorable in his jacket and jeans, his stoic expression frozen as he glances at the photos along the wall. When we reach my bedroom, we exchange a quick glance. It’s electric. It’s…surprising.