Little Stalker (3 page)

half-moon bruise around the outer side of his eye. He cowers in on himself and shuts his eyes

tightly, as if he’s waiting for a beating.

“Hey, easy man,” says Ray from my bedroom doorway.

Neither me nor my stalker say anything. His eyes open warily, glancing around and

then keeping steady on me.

“Is that the kid you think is stalking you?” asks Ray.

“Fuck you, Ray,” I say between bared teeth, still staring down at the scrawny kid. He

looks so young – maybe fifteen or sixteen. Fuck. And I’ve been imagining...

“S-sorry,” the kid stutters, well-shaped eyebrows furrowing slightly.

When I let go of his sweater, the wide neckline slides off one side, revealing white

skin around a bony shoulder. He quickly wets his lips that are almost the same red as the

sweater.

“I didn’t think you saw me,” he adds, his voice much higher than mine, but still a

guy’s voice.

“You mean you
have
been stalking him?” asks Ray, voice rising in surprise. He walks

past us and opens the fridge.

“Um,” the kid mutters, tearing his gaze away from me for one quick second to glance

at Ray. “I have this letter for you,” he says when his wide eyes are back on me. I can’t see the

bruise because it’s hidden again, but I can’t help wondering how he got it. Someone beat him

up?

He pushes a crumpled white envelope into my free hand. What is this? Some kind of

love letter?

“It-it’s a subpoena,” he says, now gazing down at the floor. There’s a slight twinge of

disappointment in my chest.

Snapping open a can of soda, Ray voices my question as if we’re sharing a mind link.

“A subpoena?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what kind. I mean, I didn’t read it or anything.” The kid’s voice

trails off, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his tight jeans.

“You have a job delivering subpoenas?” asks Ray. “How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen,” the kid mutters to the floorboards.

“No way!” both Ray and my internal-self exclaim.

Ignoring Ray, the kid continues. “I’m in college, but my dad delivers subpoenas. He

was banned from the campus grounds some years back when he was sneaking into a girls’

dormitory to deliver. Since he’s not allowed to come here anymore, he asked me to do it.”

“You’ve had a month to do it – you could have done it any time,” I say when I’ve

finally found my voice.

“Um, yeah, well...”

The kid lifts his bare shoulder up to his ear as glances up from under his lashes before

focusing back on the floor. I’ve seen girls do that, but it never looked this...

Looking away from him, I open the letter. It’s what Lilith, a girl I slept with over a

month ago, has been threatening me with: a paternity test to be administered after the baby is

born.

Swallowing hard, I lift the letter over my shoulder.

Ray snatches it to read.

“Bitch,” he mutters. “You sure you fucked her?”

“I think so – I don’t know. I don’t remember,” I say, looking away from the stalker-

kid, whose eyes just rose up, wide with curiosity. “We were both naked when I woke up,” I

say to Ray.

I walk to the couch and slump down on the brown leather. My hands cover my face as

I think about the mess I’m in. Have I impregnated others as well? I’m so intoxicated every

time that I don’t even know if I use a condom. Sometimes there are wrappers and a used

condom on the floor, but sometimes there isn’t. When there isn’t one, I always assume we

didn’t go all the way. There was no condom that morning when I woke up next to Lilith.

“Is it that black-haired girl? The one who wears last season’s Karen Millen?” the

stalker asks.

There’s a short silence before Ray talks.

“Okay, I’m not even gonna ask how you know it’s clothes by a specific designer or

how you know that it’s last season’s, but what about her?”

“It’s just that I remember that night. Coby was so drunk she had to half-carry him

over here. She had to stop and rest like ten times on the way.”

“Wow, girl on a mission,” says Ray with a chuckle after slurping on his soda.

“Exactly,” the kid says, sounding dead-serious. “But if that was the only time Coby

was with her, then he can’t be the father. She was already pregnant.”

My hands fall from my face. Ray and the kid are standing face to face, Ray towering

over him with a quizzical look, the kid staring back with fingers fisted and back straight. The

stalker shifts his weight, his slender hips rolling in a way that makes me look away.

“How would you know that?” Ray asks, just as I’m about to.

“I uh...” The kid gives me a quick glance, but he seems more comfortable looking up

at Ray. Why is that? Because he thought I was gonna beat him up a few minutes ago? Or

because he has a crush on me?

“I hang around at the campus bar a lot, and I heard her talking to her friends. She said

Coby was so drunk she couldn’t get it up for him no matter what she did.”

Conscious effort. Medical condition.

“She said she undressed him to make it look like they’d done it,” he continues.

That would explain the lack of condom. Now, when I think about it, the sheets don’t

always smell like sex after the Friday nights, but that specific night...

“But the sheets smelled like sex,” I say.

He looks back at me, shoulders squirming as he does, cheeks blushing. Do I like

looking at him because he’s girly? Yeah, that has to be it...

“Um, yeah, she said she did that to make you think you’d done it. Um...after she got

undressed, I mean.”

She rubbed her vagina against my sheets? Against
me
?

“Ugh,” I groan with a turning stomach. The walls in my throat contract. “I think I

need to puke.”

I toe off my cold sneakers and fold one foot under me, the other rests on the coffee

table.

“But I don’t understand why,” I say, taking in calming breaths. “DNA would have

confirmed it.”

“It’s obvious,” says Ray as he checks his watch. “Shit! I gotta go to practise.”

“Ray,” I call after him as he darts into my bedroom, retrieves his gym bag and heads

for the door. “How is it obvious?”

“Money,” he says, just before he closes the door behind him.

“Money.” I repeat, still staring at the door from which Ray disappeared. Of course. I

may be easy on the eyes, but money always helps.

I look at the kid who stands like a foreign object in my living room, all fidgety and

squirmy. He shoves the tips of his fingers down his back pockets and scuffs his sneakers

against the floorboards as if trying to dig himself into the ground.

“So she was hoping I’d pay her a ridiculous amount of money to, what, keep quiet? If

I’d fathered a kid, I’d take responsibility,” I say, furrowing my brow. “I mean, I’d want to be

a part of it.”

A few moments of silence follow as I think about becoming a dad so young. I want a

child someday, but not so soon. Poor kid, though, to have a mother like Lilith. Maybe I

should try to support it in some way if the father doesn’t come forward. Not with money,

though. I knew Lilith was a greedy little bitch the moment I laid my eyes on her. I saw it in

the way she looked at me, but I didn’t care.

“Um, sometimes it’s best not to get married under those kind of circumstances.

Sometimes it’s better to get an abortion,” says the stalker, curling in on himself with a

fleeting look in his eye.

I push myself up and walk over to him, his eyes widening as I move closer. Having

him tailing me wherever I went has been frustrating to say the least, but now I’m grateful. I

probably would have taken that subpoena as her being absolutely certain I’d gotten her

pregnant. I might not have married her, but I would have supported her, probably without

taking the paternity test. She must have known that. I mean, she started talking about this a

week after I woke up next to her. Wouldn’t that be too soon to know you’re pregnant?

But hey, wait a minute. I find the sheet of paper on the counter behind me and take it,

briefly glancing over it. The date’s from four days ago.

“What’s your name?” I ask, running my eyes over his pretty face.

“Grayson.”

“Okay, Grayson,” – the guy blushes with a quirk of a smile – “When were you asked

to give me the subpoena?”

“Two days ago,” he says, looking from me to the letter.

“Then why have you been stalking me for a month?” I ask, staring him down.

His full, red lips form an ‘o’ as his eyes widen. Then his features soften as he gazes up

at me with unmistakable want in his eyes. I’ve seen it on girls, but never guys. Or if guys

have given me that look, I haven’t noticed.

“Who gave you the shiner?” I ask, reaching out my hand to have another look.

He flinches from my touch and backs into the wall, but I follow and thread my fingers

through that kitten-soft hair, pushing it aside to see the fading bruise.

Who would do that to him?

As Grayson looks down with flushed skin, his cheek brushes the inside of my palm.

He jerks to a stop and holds his breath, just as I hold mine.

Without thinking about it, I lay my palm further against his skin, taking in the warm,

soft feel of it. It’s like touching a girl...but still different. His skin is smooth, but there’s a thin line along his jaw that feels rougher, like a hint of stubble.

“Have you ever kissed a guy?” I ask in a low voice, shocking both him and myself

with my words. But instead of trying to reel them back, I gaze down at his lowered face.

Ray’s words this morning flash through my mind.
‘Just because you’d fuck him it wouldn’t

mean anything.’
I’ve been half horny all morning...

He sucks in his lower lip and licks the upper one with the tip of his tongue. It makes

my whole groin twitch. The heat in my crotch is almost painful and the rest of my body feels

numb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, still looking down.

“What’s it like?” I ask, my voice low and a little thicker than usual. “Is it different

from kissing a girl?” It feels like there’s a vibrating rock in the pit of my stomach and its

sending shocks to my rapidly beating heart. My fingers on his face tremble, and I’m breaking

out in a sweat.

His gaze rises to meet mine, wide and pretty – eyes much too large for his small face.

He licks his lips again, cocking his head to the side.

“I’ve never kissed a girl,” he says in a low voice, chest heaving rapidly, red lips half

parted.

God...

Before I can even think to stop myself, I’m lowering my head, my trembling lips

touching his very, very lightly. It’s not enough to determine if it’s different, but it feels soft and wet, and oh, he smells
so
good. His hair is a little damp after the rain, but his own natural smell... I touch my lips to his again, a little firmer this time, lingering, savouring the wet,

ticklish feel that sends all sorts of sparks through my body. My head feels so light it’s like

I’m not even in my own body anymore. Yeah, it definitely feels different from kissing a girl;

it feels unreal.

We kiss more, each touch experimental, hesitant. My fingers barely touch his face and

he trembles less than an inch from my arm.

When I pull back, I gaze in Grayson’s dazed eyes. They mirror my own hazy brain.

The warmth from his body is like a magnet, trying to pull mine closer, and I gently position

my hands on his hips. I lick my lips and step closer.

He meets me halfway when I bend down to kiss him again, sliding his arms up my

torso to rest on my pectorals. He moans once, his mouth opens for my tongue, and my knees

go weak with all the fireworks shooting from limb to limb. God, he feels so good. His tongue

is thin, nimble, and so hot against mine it burns. He grabs my shoulder when it feels like he’s

about to fall, and his other hand clasps the shirt on my back for support. I grab him, holding

on tightly as I kiss him with tongue twisting, teeth clashing intensity, grazing his lips with my

teeth and sucking on them. I hear myself moan into his mouth and him echoing with added

whimpers and sighs. He feels so good.

I break away to rest my forehead against his, just to catch my breath a little. I keep my

mind shut, not allowing any thoughts to enter, just letting myself feel what I feel. I keep my

hands on him because I don’t want him to get away. The throb of my rock hard cock is

excruciating in my pants.

“Hey,” I say in a breathy voice. “Have you ever touched another guy’s dick? What’s

that like?”

Grayson’s breath hitches, hot on my cheek. “...Like touching your own?”

“Oh, of course,” I say with a soft chuckle and am about to kiss him again when he

continues.

“Only mine’s smaller than yours – I, um, saw you in the shower once, after gym. I

wasn’t stalking you back then or anything...I was just...there.”

“Smaller?” The curiosity coursing through every molecule is echoed in my voice.

Don’t think right now, just feel...

I unfasten the buttons on his jeans and slide my hand in, breath rattling when I feel the

soft, hard cylinder in my hand.

“Hey, it
is
smaller,” I say. Grayson’s eyes widen. “Oh, but not
that
small, just

smaller,” I add, trying to back paddle, but it feels like I’m just digging myself deeper...and

deeper...

“Uh...thanks, I think,” he whispers, his hold on my shirt loosening.