Chapter 5

5

LILY

My shoes click on the concrete as I hurry home through the drizzle, bag crashing against my hip, breath sucked into my lungs and exhaled shakily. The street blurs and I can barely see where I'm going. I glance over my shoulder towards his flat.

I'm not exactly scared, but seeing dozens of paintings of my face plastered on his wall has thrown me for a loop. Why are there so many of them? Why did he paint them in the first place? None of it makes sense. He's never made me feel unsafe. Usually when I'm with him I feel safest, but…it's not normal to have that many pictures of someone. In one room.

God. It was a shrine.

I was in my stalker's house. Had kissed him. And liked it.

I rub a hand across my mouth roughly, attempting to remove the feeling, but it's burned into me. Burned into my very soul, where I'll never be able to remove it and will carry the sensation with me for eternity.

When did he start following me? I didn't notice anything until winter, so maybe it's a recent addition to his day. Wake up, follow Lily, drive a truck around, follow Lily home, then paint pictures of her so she can freak out when she finds them.

My mind's so frazzled it takes a second to notice I'm standing in my lounge while Cas stares at me, more concerned than he ever has been. Not enough to get off the couch, though.

"Are you okay?" The voice comes from the kitchen, and I whirl around and sag in relief when Ella comes into view.

I nod quickly and nod again when her eyebrow lifts. "Yep, totally fine."

"I thought you went shopping?"

"I did." My hand clenches the bag hiding the pink tissue paper. I was so happy to bump into Leo—and fine, I'll admit I bought the stupid lingerie with him in mind—but was he there deliberately? To follow me while I shopped? I shiver. Does he know I…bought something with him in mind? Did he see what I chose?

"You never shop this long, and you don't have any shopping bags." She sits on the couch and pulls me with her, scaring Cas into another room.

"I saw Leo."

Ella tilts her head. "I thought you'd be excited. Didn't you ask him out?"

"Hmm, yeah. I did." Why can't I stop nodding? "Went to his place, which was exciting until I found a room filled with paintings of me."

Ella blinks at me. "You what?"

"He has a room in his house wall-to-wall of drawings and paintings of me." Is that my voice sounding shrill?

"How… What—I don't understand."

"There is a room?—"

"A room of drawings, yes. What happened?" Ella shifts closer to me and brushes my leg hesitantly. I barely notice.

"I don't know."

"Start from the beginning."

I sink deeper into the couch and run shaking hands through my hair. My body feels light, my hands disconnected and clumsy as they tug at the ends of my hair.

"We bumped into each other outside a shop and started talking. He was about to send me a message, but since we were both free, we thought we'd go out now. So we went to his place, ordered food, kissed, and I went to the bathroom but found the room with paintings instead," I blurt out.

"You kissed? Was it good?" Her eyes light up.

"Ella! He has a room full of pictures he drew of me. Kissing him is the least of my worries."

"You think he's the one following you?"

I bite my lip and nod. Opening my bag, I fish out the sketch I stole and show it to her. Ella smooths out the crinkles from my anxious fist.

"Didn't he know you had a cat?"

"But how does he know what Cas looks like?"

"True." Ella raises her brows. "He's good. I didn't know he was an artist."

She hands the paper to me, and I analyse the drawing. He's good. More than good. He could sell his art if he wanted to, and painted more than just me and my cat. Leo drew Cas eerily lifelike, right down to the disdain in his eyes.

And me…he paints me differently to how I perceive myself. Not as harsh, more forgiving on my features, softening them. My eyes, my hair, even my curves in some of them, but always in a gentle way. A cherished way.

"He is," I agree, folding the paper neatly and tucking it under a cushion. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

Ella takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand before letting go. "Don't hate me for what I'm about to say. You like him and have for a long time. You've never been concerned about the person following you. Didn't you say it made you feel safe?"

I frown and try to remember what I told Ella. She's right that I haven't felt threatened by the person following me. He never tried anything and always had this aura of calm. Which is the most ridiculous idea. How would I feel someone isn't threatening, let alone their aura, when I haven't even seen him? It doesn't make sense, and it never has. But…it's true I always felt comforted when I could feel his presence walking to work.

Walking in the dark so early hasn't been one of my brightest ideas, but the only time I had a sense of unease tightening my chest was early this winter. Supposedly before Leo started following me. After a few weeks I didn't question walking, never worried about it, because the unease diminished to nothing. Because Leo started following me. To make sure I arrived safely.

Was that why he kept bugging me to lock the doors?

"I did. I don't understand why, but it made me feel safer when he was there."

"Then I'm not sure you do anything," Ella says tentatively. I suck in a breath to respond, but she cuts me off before I get a word out. "You like Leo, possibly more, and now you've found out the person who makes you feel safe getting to work is Leo. They're one and the same. So Leo draws you. He also makes you comfortable getting to work." She shrugs. "Maybe you need to talk to him. Maybe it's cute he has a shrine dedicated to you." I glare at her and she winces. "I don't know! You're the one that feels safe with your stalker. Now you know who it is, and you already like him and know he's obsessed."

I blink at her. "That's not a bad point."

"He probably thinks you'll call the police and get a restraining order."

And never see him again.

Never have him deliver to my store again. Never have him tug me close under an umbrella. Never kiss him again. Never get to sit on the couch beside him while he sketches.

No.

"I'm not going to?—"

"I know that, but he doesn't." She leans over and hugs me before standing and heading to her room. She stops at the hallway. "All you've found out is the person you like and the person who makes you feel safe is the same person . If any of this made you uncomfortable, I'd call the police, but I don't think this changes anything for you. There's cocoa in the pantry." She winks and leaves me sitting on the couch with her unfortunately perceptive words surrounding me.

I need to bake. I dig out a floral apron, wash my hands, and stride to the pantry to yank out cocoa, flour, and baking powder, and dump them on the bench.

It's too confusing. I don't like it. How do I sort out my feelings for Leo when I've seen his shrine of paintings, and remember he's also been following me, while still being able to taste his lips on mine and wish I'd kissed him longer?

The paintings were truly gorgeous. Would have spent ages looking through them if they weren't all of me. They were respectful, nothing objectifying me or hinting at something unpleasant.

Can't pinpoint why I'm upset. Do I even have a right to be upset when I liked his presence following me?

I sift flour into melted butter. Does it really matter to me? He was concerned enough to follow me to work. I analyse all angles and come to the conclusion that it doesn't bother me. It's hypocritical of me to say it does, considering everything I told Ella. If it bothered me, I should have called the police.

The paintings, however, I need more time to process. I think my distress comes from the shock of his art, not from finding out it was him following me. I fold the ingredients together and grease a baking tin.

It's not that I found the paintings offensive, or vulgar…but it's confronting walking into a room to see it full of images of yourself. Perhaps if there was warning, I wouldn't have been caught off guard.

But would I have stayed?

Maybe. If he'd said he liked painting me. But finding out about the stalking and the art at the same time was a lot.

I shove the baking tin in the oven.

Should I talk to him? Yes. Communication is good. Communication about why he has a room full of paintings of me, instead of talking to me, is good.

My mind ignores the fact I locked us in a room to ask him out instead of asking like a normal person. Maybe we're both unhinged. Or I'm delusional and should call the police.

I stare at the brownie in the oven. No. I won't call the police. I'll talk to him tomorrow when he comes in and ask questions as a calm adult instead of yelling at him.

I'm apprehensive walking to work in the morning, the wind bites through my coat, and my eyes scan the street as I stride down the footpath. He's following me. I can feel him. Even after yesterday, he's making sure I get to work. Something inside me warms at the thought of him protecting me, after I shouted and freaked out at his flat. Didn't consider he'd be with me this morning, but he is, after everything. It shouldn't make me as happy as it does.

But I'm used to the presence that follows me. If it was missing, I don't know what I'd do.

I can't see him and I'm not ready to talk to him yet, so I walk to my storefront door, unlock it, close and lock it behind me, and finally see him across the street. Can't believe I didn't recognise him before, it's so obvious now. He's leaning against a brick wall, hands tucked deep inside his coat pockets, and he doesn't look at me. Just puts his head down and stares at his feet.

I chew the inside of my cheek. Why does my stomach churn when he doesn't look at me? I watch at the door for long minutes. He continues to stare at the ground and doesn't glance up once, just shivers in the cold.

I should invite him in. Give him a warm drink and talk to him, but I need more time to organise my thoughts. Need people around us when I talk to him for the first time after last night.

Later today, when he makes the delivery, I'll talk to him.

Spinning from Leo, I stalk to the kitchen and yank off my coat to prepare for the day.

Gemma arrives, then the rest of the staff, and we open and serve customers while I wait for Leo to show up. He's not early, like the last few deliveries, and then he doesn't arrive at the scheduled time.

Midday comes and goes, and I glare at the clock. He's ruined my plan.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it's all I've got. All I wanted was to talk to him on neutral ground and see his reaction. Although, I supposed my café isn't really neutral.

Not sure I'm ready to go back to his flat, but that doesn't mean I want to cut him out of my life completely. The more I think about it, the more I don't care about any of it.

Weirdly, the art continues to freak me out more than the stalking, but I think if he showed it to me and explained his thought process, I'd move past it quickly. I'm already used to the person stalking me, had begun to expect the feeling and look for him, but the art caught me off guard. To see myself decorating the walls and painted so carefully, the detail to everything…

Gem interrupts my spiralling. "Delivery's here." She's frowning at the door and goes to speak, but I'm already rushing to the backdoor.

He's bent over setting a box on the floor, and my heart drops when I notice his hair. It's blond. My brow creases.

The man stands and says, "You must be the owner. I'm Ben."

"Hello." I clear my throat from the thick disappointment clogging it. "Where's Leo?"

He was here this morning. I know he was. Where is he? Assumed since he followed me like normal he'd work as normal. Why avoid me now but continue to follow me in the dark? Maybe he doesn't want to talk to me. I shake my head. It doesn't matter. I'll find a way to talk to him later.

"Called in sick. I nearly keeled over when I heard. He doesn't take sick days. Especially not when he's scheduled here." Ben winks at me and rubs his hands together. "That's everything. I'll see you later."

"Leo isn't coming back?" I ask. My hands turn damp. "I hope he's okay."

"He'll be back as soon as he's able. Got the flu or something, so he's taken the week off."

"Oh. Thanks, Ben. See you later."

Ben leaves the store, the door banging behind him, and I stare at it blankly.

Leo called in sick. To avoid me.

None of this makes sense. I saw him at four-thirty in the morning across the street, staring at the concrete. He wasn't sick yesterday, and if he had the flu, why did he follow me in the cold?

"You okay?" Gemma squeezes my arm gently.

"Fine. I need to ice the cupcakes." I brush past her towards the stairs and ignore her concerned look. She lets me go and doesn't remind me I've already iced them.

He'll show up tomorrow, and I'll talk to him. We'll clear the air and communicate as adults about everything, maybe have dinner together instead of following each other and forcing situations, hoping for more.

He doesn't show the next day. Or the day after that. Or a week later.

But he walks me to work each morning.