14

Sunlight beams through my window and hits my face as I grumble and roll over. Sam and I stayed out way too late last night, and then he helped me patch Wante's leaky hole. Yes, we used that term several times. Giggles were had.

Now I must plan my counterattack.

It's pushing ten as I sit up and arch my back in a stretch, finally rolling out of bed. Although I rarely sleep in, mornings and I have never seen eye to eye. My brother's eagerness to hear every little detail about mine and Dante's history kept us awake until the wee hours of the morning.

My beauty sleep suffered, but we had fun.

Once I slip into my sweats, I grab my laptop and check for unclaimed assignments. I freelance as a medical transcriptionist to supplement my income because it's one of the few jobs that offers the flexibility I need. The money from the band is enough to get by, because, despite my semi-diva tendencies, I pride myself on my frugal lifestyle.

Still, I enjoy having a safety net. The thought of depending on anyone to support me doesn't interest me, so I do what's required to maintain my active status with the company.

I choose a quick job from the queue, finish it, and refresh to find the others have been claimed. "Just as well," I mutter to myself as I climb off the couch and grab a sweatshirt. "The coffee shop is calling my name."

An Amazon package waits for me outside my door. "Ooh, what are you?" I say out loud as I pick up the lightweight bubble envelope and shake it. Retreating inside my apartment, I cut the seams open and pull out a pair of black sheer panties with a lace-up front.

"Huh," I mutter, not remembering ordering these. The excessive number of undies I own, however, is a testament to the fact that I simply cannot be trusted with undergarments. It's obsessive at best, and if we're being honest, probably downright compulsive.

But like, a sexy compulsive.

And these certainly look like something I'd order.

I snip the tags and toss them into the washing machine before sliding back out the door. The sun is out even though the air is getting colder every day, so I crack my window and slide on my sunglasses as I drive to the cafe. I place my order and drop into an armchair, surprised at the number of people milling about on a weekday lunchtime.

"Ooh, pretty nails!" I glance up at a young girl, middle school age, looking at my deep purple paint job. "I've never seen a boy with painted fingernails." The woman with her gives me a small, apologetic smile mixed with a hint of horror in response to her daughter's blunt comment, but I give them both a big grin.

"Thank you, sweetie! You are right, not many boys paint their nails, but that's because they don't realize they can." I toss her an exaggerated wink. "I think they'recool."

"Me too," she giggles before tilting her head and staring at me for a second, deep in thought. "You're very pretty."

"Well, so are you." She bats her eyes at me, and I'm so distracted with the conversation that I don't hear the barista the first time my name is called. When she shouts a little louder, I wave at her from across the room, turning to my new young friend and telling her goodbye.

Her mother stops me as I step away. "Sorry for the questions," she whispers quietly, as if trying to keep her daughter from overhearing. "She's always been curious."

"Nothing to apologize for," I assure her with a smile. "Kids tend to be more accepting than adults, and most people don't mind answering their questions." I hesitate, not wanting to overstep. "Don't discourage her. Let her know it's okay to be a little different… and a little curious." She smiles and nods, and with another polite wave, I weave through the crowd.

Kayla, my favorite barista, smiles at me as I come to collect my coffee. "Hey, can you add their order to my bill?" I gesture towards the mother and daughter.

She nods. "Someone just paid for your drink, so we'll keep this goodwill train going."

"Who covered mine?" I ask, searching the crowded cafe, but not seeing anyone I know.

"Sorry, Theo, I wasn't paying much attention. Some guy, wanted to pay for someone and pointed at you while you were talking to the little girl. Probably thought you were cute."

"He clearly has fantastic taste." She grins and shakes her head as I toss her an obnoxious wink. "Well, either way, I'll take care of theirs and spread the love." I grab my cappuccino, enjoying the warmth as it spreads across my palms. "See you next time, sweetie!" I toss another wave to the kid and her mom, smiling as I walk back out into the sunshine.

Exhausted from a full day of running errands, I dash into the grocery store before heading to practice, taking a quick detour to unload the groceries into the fridge.

Dante's laptop becomes the center of attention as the group gathers around, practice coming to an abrupt end because all of us are too curious to see where our numbers landed for the week. We made a pact to refrain from constantly checking our rankings, as it only adds unnecessary stress to our lives.

The goofy grin on Eric's face tells me he's probably bending the rules. He never did have any restraint.

Our album broke the top one hundred on the charts, and seeing number ninety-nine next to our name has us cheesing like we'd won the lottery. My good mood hasn't faded as I pull back into my apartment, starving and ready for dinner.

I'm in the middle of cooking when there's a knock on my door. "Hold on a second!" I scrunch my nose, wondering who it is this time. Except for package and food deliveries, there hasn't been this much activity at my door for as long as I can remember. I steal a glance at the clock, trying to guess who is randomly dropping by at seven without calling ahead.

Sam, most likely.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I consider the second possibility.

Once I've gotten the food to a manageable place, I dart over and open the door, only to find no one there. Bright colors catch my eye, and my gaze drops to a bouquet of orange lilies sitting in front of my apartment door.

A frown pulls on my face as I glance around the hallway, but it's empty except for old Mrs. Henry that lives a few doors down the hall. "Secret admirer, sweet Theo?" she calls as I lift the vase.

I spin the flowers, not seeing a card. "Wouldn't know. You didn't leave them for me, did you?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her as she wheezes out a dusty laugh.

"You're a few decades shy of being old enough for me, young man."

"And gay," I remind her. She waves me off, apparently convinced that her sexual prowess would be enough to bypass that little tidbit of information if I were closer to an octogenarian. "You didn't see who left these, did you?"

"No, dear, I just stepped out."

"Alright," I nod, distracted as I carry the flowers inside my apartment. The door closes behind me, and I realize my chicken is smoking, so I set the vase down harder than I intend. A card hidden among the blooms falls out, dropping onto the surface of the table.

I dash over to the stove and shut off the eye, removing the pan from the heat before returning to the table for the tiny envelope. My heart thuds as I read the words on the card.

I drop the note like it burned me, my hands shaking as I glance around the apartment in panic. Forgetting dinner, I grab my phone and keys and dart out the door. "Brenda!" I shout when I get to the front desk, and she comes running out with wide eyes.

"Theo, what's—"

"Has anyone come in recently that doesn't live here?"

She blinks a few times at my interruption, then shakes her head. "Well, sure… there are a lot of people that walk through the lobby. Residents and visitors… I don't know all of them."

"Flowers!" I say, my voice approaching a shout, and her eyes get wider as I wring my hands in front of me. "Did you see someone carrying flowers? In the past half hour. Orange lilies."

"Oh, yes! The same young man that claimed that watch you turned in last week."

My chest clenches, and a sudden rush of lightheadedness hits me as my pulse pounds relentlessly. "What did he look like?"

"Handsome thing, tall and kind of thin with a sweet smile."

My voice squeaks as I ask, "Blonde hair?"

She nods, staring at me with obvious concern. "Yes… Theo, is everything okay?"

"Peachy," I whisper as I pull my phone out. My fingers fumble over the screen as I scroll through my contacts and jab Dante's name. He answers on the third ring, and before he can even say anything, the words come spilling out. "Dante, I need you. Can you come over? Please?"

"What's wrong?" he demands, and a few things bang around in the background.

"Jesse has been here. He's been here, at my apartment."

"When?" Keys jingle, and the slam of a door tells me he's on his way.

"There was a watch last week, and I thought someone left it there by accident, and then I got the package, but I assumed it was something I forgot I ordered and didn't think twice about it. God, I'm such an idiot!" I'm not making any sense, but all I can do is ramble.

"Shh… you aren't an idiot, Theo. Calm down, I'm already on my way. It'll be okay. Where are you right now?"

"In the lobby… he left flowers at my door with a note that said he was watching me and fuck…" A shaky breath blows out of my mouth. "I never told him where I live, Dante. Never! But he still found me… how did he find me?" My voice breaks as I force the words out. Movement behind me has me whipping around, but it's only Brenda.

As soon as she recognizes the stress on my face, she wraps a protective arm around my shoulders. "Do I need to call the police?"

I shake my head, holding my phone against my ear like it's my life preserver. "Someone's coming for me."

"I'm on my way, Theo. Stay out there with her until I get there. Don't go back into your apartment until I am with you, okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, nodding even though he can't see me. "Don't hang up."

"Of course not. I'm right here… only ten minutes away. Keep talking to me… tell me what you did today."

For the next ten minutes, I ramble about nonsense and answer every random question he throws at me, jumping at each sound and movement in this lobby. Despite Dante's best attempt to occupy my mind, my nerves wind tighter until he walks in the door and wraps me in the safety of his arms.