Demetri
Four days. I watched her for four days. What kind of stalker did that make me? I mean, she had the ugliest clothes I'd ever seen.
She was so small, she practically swam in them, and I'm sorry, but there's a reason guys don't dig Uggs.
Ever since Tuesday when I ran into the competition's store and tried to find any excuse to talk to her, I'd been out of sorts.
Not the out-of-sorts that just leaves you when you fall asleep at night. No, the type that had me eating so much taffy that I was convinced I was going to have ten cavities by the end of the year.
I shook the bucket, but my heart wasn't in it, not that it had ever been truly in it, but still. I felt off.
Clearly, I needed another hobby, or friends, or something, because my behavior was bordering on stalker-ish. Yesterday I'd even gone in her parents' taffy store and asked about her schedule.
I swear her mom almost fainted.
When she introduced herself, she almost seemed too eager to get her daughter into my clutches, which really should have been my first clue that something was off.
I mean, unless they lived under a rock, they knew exactly what I was about. Spoiled rock star who nearly killed himself in an accident, troubled past, man-whore of the century, blah, blah, blah.
I'd pasted on my best smile, careful not to give her mom a stroke, and asked about Alyssa.
All I found out was what I already knew. She worked every freaking day, just like me, which just reinforced the conclusion I had come to earlier.
She was lonely.
I asked her mom about friends.
Again, yes, I'm very much aware how creepy I was being, but I had Bob, that was it. I was desperate for some sort of companionship, even if said companion wanted to stab me in the eye.
After no convincing whatsoever, I discovered that Alyssa had Saturdays off and didn't often go out with friends.
I could be her friend.
Lame. Maybe that's how I should start the conversation. âHey, Alyssa, I've been watching you for the past four days. You have a pretty face even though your clothes suck. Wanna hang out?
Promising.
Clearly, I'd been out of the game for far too long. I couldn't even remember how to talk to a normal person.
I kicked the ground and looked across the street again. Tomorrow was Saturday. Tomorrow I was going to pursue the first girl I'd pursued since Nat.
And look how well that turned out.
The familiar pang of rejection hit me square in the chest. Why was I even putting myself out there when I literally had nothing to offer but baggage?
Hell if I knew, but damn if I didn't still want to try.