Follow Me(72)

Cat kept asking me to stay with her instead, kept saying I was moving too fast with Max. “I’m worried,” she’d told me over the phone. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” But what did Cat know? She had been obsessed with the same man for the last seven years and had kissed him exactly once. By that yardstick, sure, Max and I were moving fast, but that was hardly a reasonable standard.

? ? ?

BUT AS MUCH as I loved living at Max’s, our relaxed routine was proving detrimental to my personal brand. I slipped in posting content, even neglecting my Instagram Stories. My loyal followers began sending me direct messages expressing their concern, asking if everything was okay. I assured them it was, but I couldn’t continue like this much longer—not if I wanted to maintain the social media presence I had worked so hard to cultivate.

Max nodded agreeably when I told him I was going to take care of some personal things after work, but his eyes had widened when he realized I intended to go back to the basement apartment.

“Audrey, are you crazy? That’s not safe.”

“It’ll be fine,” I assured him. “I’ve been back a bunch of times for clothes and stuff.”

“With me at your side,” he countered.

“I don’t need a white knight,” I said gently. “Listen, Max, I’ll lock the doors, and I won’t stay after dark. I’m talking an hour, two, tops.”

“That’s an hour or two too long. Please, baby, work here. I promise I won’t bother you.”

“I can’t work here,” I told him, running a finger along his soft lips. “Too many distractions.”

He kissed my fingertip and then took my hand. “Then go to a coffee shop. Don’t go back to that apartment.”

“I can’t live my life in fear,” I told him. “Anyway, everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

He sighed heavily. “I want it noted for the record that I don’t like this at all. Be careful, okay? And don’t answer the door for anyone.”

? ? ?

MAX’S ADMONISHMENT CAME back to me when the buzzer rang thirty minutes after I’d arrived home.

It has to be Ryan, I thought darkly as I approached the door. He’s noticed that I’m back and decided it was time to harass me for fun.

I cracked open the door, ready to tell my least favorite neighbor where he could shove it, and instead found Nick, grinning wolfishly at me with his golden hair in disarray.

“Let me in, Rapunzel,” he said, rattling the gate.

“Rapunzel lived in a tower, not a basement.”

“Semantics,” he said, swaying slightly. “Come on, babe. Let me in.”

I sighed and unlocked the gate. “You can come in but you can’t stay. I have work to do, and besides, I have a firm policy of not entertaining drunks.”

“I’m not drunk,” Nick protested as he sauntered into my apartment.

“Like hell you’re not,” I said, shutting my laptop and preventively moving it out of his reach. “I can smell the tequila coming out of your pores.”

He lifted an arm to his nose and sniffed. I laughed despite myself.

“You’re ridiculous. It’s a Wednesday evening and you’re thirty years old. What have you gotten into?”

“Going-away party for a colleague. Former colleague, I guess. We went to happy hour.”

“And then you thought of me. How nice.”

“I always think of you.”

“Oh, Nicky,” I said with a laugh. “You’re so cute when you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, looking indignant. “I do think of you. More than you think of me, obviously. You haven’t answered any of my texts recently.”

“I’ve been busy,” I said vaguely.

“That boyfriend of yours, right?” he demanded, leaning toward me.

Something dangerous flashed in the blue of his eyes, and I suddenly remembered one Halloween night years ago. We had gone to a bar together but had drifted apart: I went to dance with my friends, he went to drink himself stupid with his. I was singing along to a Katy Perry song when Nick suddenly grabbed me by the arm and whirled me around, red-faced and shouting something about my kissing another guy. It only took me a few minutes to realize he’d seen some other woman dressed as a mermaid locking lips with someone, but in those few minutes I had been genuinely afraid of him. I never figured out if he’d taken something or if he had just been excessively drunk or if he really did have a dark streak that he usually kept hidden beneath all that charm, but it was the only time Nick had ever looked at me like that.

Until tonight.

“Come off it, Nick,” I said, pushing him away.

“I don’t get you, Audrey,” he said, shaking his head. “I always thought we had something special.”

“We do. We have a really special friendship, and—”

“I love you.”

I blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching a clumsy hand for me.

“Nick, no,” I said gently, intercepting his reach. “You don’t mean that.”

His handsome face contorted and he snatched his hand out of my grasp. “Who are you to tell me what I mean? Seriously, Audrey, who the fuck are you?”