Page 27 of To Obsess

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy sex, casual and not so much, just as much as the next person. I can even appreciate it as the distraction I’ve so desperately needed lately. What I don’t enjoy is mixed signals and not really knowing where we stand at the end of the day.

Mason stretches before squeezing my thigh lightly. “Listen, Violet. I’ve been thinking.”

Great. Nothing good ever came from a man who’s been thinking, I think as I concentrate on not rolling my eyes at him. “Oh yeah?” I say with a saccharine smile as I follow his stretch before standing and flipping the TV off.

“Yeah. What you said a few weeks ago makes a lot of sense.” He pauses, waiting until I make eye contact with him to continue. “We’ve been seeing each other a while, and I’m having a great time with you. Neither of us are seeing other people, at least that I’m aware of…” This pause is loaded, needing my acknowledgement. When I nod, I swear there’s a tiny sigh of relief as he finishes this thought.

“I’m glad we’re still on the same page there because I think we’ve got a good thing going here. A long-term thing, if that’s what you want.” Suddenly, my throat feels like I’ve tried to swallow sand. Instead of speaking, I nod again, albeit less enthusiastically. “Great,” he goes on. “The last thing I want is for some other guy to snatch you out from under me.” He says it with a hint of a laugh, but it doesn’t feel like a joke. The words register as exactly what he said. He doesn’t want me seeing anyone else, but that doesn’t mean shit for him necessarily.

When he leans in to kiss me as if to seal the deal, I let him, even if the action forces my stomach to drop to the floor. What the fuck is wrong with me? I literally asked for this, and now that it’s here, this is how I feel?!

He pulls back and smiles, lighting his eyes in the way I’ve grown to adore over the last few weeks. I do my best to match it, though it doesn’t feel at all genuine this time. I clear my throat, padding to the front door.

“I’ll text you in the morning, Mason. I need to get some sleep. This week has been absolutely killer, and I have to record the podcast with Abby tomorrow.” It takes all the effort I can muster to keep my eyes from being glued to the floor. I force them to his, hoping he can’t see the conflicting emotions warring for space in my head. The second he’s in his car, I hit dial on Abby’s number.

“Violet? What th-”

“Can you please explain to me why in the actual fuck I just had mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex with Mason, which was promptly followed by him explaining to me how we have such an incredible future in front of us, that he is now suddenly supposedly ready to pursue, if you take his words at face value, but the only thing I can manage to think in this tiny little pea brain of mine is how much I don’t want that anymore?” I rush out in one giant breath. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to force the words past my teeth if I stopped even long enough to take a single breath, and now that the words are out, I have an insane desire to hang up and pretend I never said them out loud.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, chick. Breathe,” she commands. I can almost hear her rubbing her temples through the phone. Instead of doing as she suggests, I begin to pace through the kitchen from one end of the island to the other.

On the eighth trip, my eye catches on something through the back window. I swear I saw a glint of something shiny, but when I look again, there’s nothing but an impenetrable darkness beyond the windowpanes. With a quick shake of my head, I drop into one of the kitchen chairs and plop my forehead down on the island.

“What the hell is wrong with me, Abby?” I mumble, no longer fighting the feelings. “Abby?” I raise my head to look at the black screen. When I tap it, my lockscreen lights up. That bitch hung up on me. With a huff and a roll of my eyes, I shove up from the chair and make my way to the living room couch.

If I’m going to have a pity party, I might as well do it with a book in my hand. Maybe with the right kind of luck, my own problems won’t seem so monumental when the fictional characters are fighting world-ending wars or facing insurmountable hardships.

Thirty minutes later, headlights flash through my front windows and a car door slams shut a moment later. Before I know it, Abby’s key is turning in the door and she’s stepping inside, tossing a pint of vanilla ice cream at my chest. “I assumed you had wine already.” It’s the only explanation she gives as she kicks off her shoes and plops down beside me.

As much as I try, I can’t fight the smile that lifts the corners of my lips. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.” Even as I say it, I’m peeling the top off the ice cream and grabbing a spoon. As I close the drawer, my head whips back to the window, certain I saw that glint of something shiny again. Just like last time, the world is completely dark beyond my house. Unlike last time, I’m not content with just letting it go.

I lay the spoon on the counter and walk silently to the back door, as if the creak of one of the floorboards might scare off whatever the hell is in the woods behind my house. Scoffing at my own stupidity, I step onto the back porch as the motion light kicks on, flooding the yard with a yellow hue.

“Well, that was helpful,” I grumble to myself, turning to flip the light off when my breath catches in my chest, freezing me in place. A chill skates down my spine, covering my arms and chest in goosebumps. Fuck. There’s a card on the chair, held down by a large black sunflower.

“Violet? What are you doing?” I hear Abby call from the living room, the real world suddenly coming back into focus around me.

“Um. I’m just grabbing a spoon! Need anything?” I scoot the flower aside and grab the card, doing my best to calm my shaking hands. Quickly flipping it open, I scan the words, heart hammering against my ribs painfully.

VIOLET-

I SWEAR TO OBSESS OVER YOUR HAPPINESS, NO MATTER WHAT THAT LOOKS LIKE.

FOREVER YOURS,

-K

The shaking is entirely uncontrollable now as I place the card back in the chair atop the flower and turn to step through the door back into the relative safety of my house. My heart thrums painfully against my ribs.

I close the door as quietly as possible, praying Abby doesn’t hear the click. After snatching the spoon from the counter and one more from the drawer, I hurry back to the living room and take my seat on the couch again.

“You good?” she asks, tentatively taking the spoon from my outstretched hand. I nod, not trusting my voice. She arches an eyebrow, clearly not believing me in the slightest but chooses to let it go for now. “Tell me about Mason then.”

For the next half hour, I spill my guts on every miniscule detail. Every thought and feeling pours from my lips until I’m talking in circles and repeating things I’ve already divulged. When I’m finally drawing to an end, Abby places her ice cream on the coffee table before turning to me, tucking her feet underneath her. She rests her forearms on her thighs, fingers interlaced, impatiently waiting for my mouth to stop.

I don’t tell her about the card or the lunatic who somehow keeps creeping onto my property in the dead of night, and sometimes in the middle of the day, without being caught. I don’t tell her about how each note I get from him has my stomach flipping with nervous butterflies, but they don’t feel heavy like they did with Gunnar. I don’t tell her how I wait, hoping and praying each day that I get another card from him, or he makes himself known in some other way. I don’t say a word about any of that.

“I think your problem is relatively simple, but the fix isn’t going to be one that you like,” she admits, holding my gaze until I feel like she can see right through me. I quirk an eyebrow, not liking the way this is bound to go. “I think this is about K.” She says it as if she’s reporting the weather outside.