Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I’d snickered.
What sort of text was that?
Wonderful?
Cheeky?
Sweet?
I’d replied something corny, and somehow, we’d traded equally oddball messages ever since.
Scrolling through the thread from yesterday, I smiled.
X: Are you cooking your poor flowers again? All I can smell is floral perfume.
Me: You’re close enough to smell my concoctions, huh?
X: I’m close enough that I can see you. Don’t freak out, but…you look absolutely ravishing in that tee and shorts.
Me: Are men still using the word ravishing these days?
X: This one does. But I have been called a nerd before.
Me: A nerd with a stalker personality. Could be kinky.
X: Careful, Lori. I know where you keep your spare key.
Me: And you have my permission to use it.
X: Don’t encourage me.
Me: By the way, do you have a Sailor Moon fetish?
X: Eh, should I have?
Me: You like what I’m wearing. It’s a fifteen-year-old faded tee of Sailor Moon. And my shorts are part of a Sailor Moon set I had when I was fourteen. She was my idol growing up.
X: I remember her. A friend of mine had sisters who ate that show up. And you know what? You kinda look like her.
Me: And that’s not fair because I have no idea what you look like. Care to show me?
X: I’m grotesque, and you’d run away screaming. This is the first time I’ve been able to get close to a girl without scaring them off with my hideous face. Don’t ruin it for me.
Me: I thought we were always meant to be honest?
X: I am. I’m a troll. Best just enjoy my glittering personality and forget all about the boils I’m hiding under my mask.
Me: One of these days, I’m going to count those boils.
X: As much as I’m enjoying this very un-arousing conversation, I have to go. Something just came up. Will you be okay on your own, or do I need to hire another stalker to keep you safe?
Me: I don’t want anyone else stalking me but you.
He hadn’t replied.
Not long after, I’d heard Alexander’s Chrysler leaving his garage, his tyres squealing a little as he sped off—most likely heading toward the hospital and an emergency.
For the quickest second, I had a crazy notion that X was Alexander. That the reason he stayed in the dark and covered his face was because he didn’t want me to know it was him.
But then another message had pinged and eradicated that stupid idea.
OPEN PHOTO.
I’d clicked on what X had sent, grinning at an image of myself. I stood exactly where I was with a soft smile on my lips and a wooden spoon in one hand, diligently mixing by the kitchen window as I combined jojoba, vanilla, and lemongrass into lip balm. My t-shirt print of Sailor Moon was faded, baggy, and hanging off one bruised shoulder, while my crescent moon shorts were a little too short.
X: I can’t seem to tear myself away. Stop being so dazzling.
I really ought to have been offended. He’d not only violated my privacy, but taking photos of me as well?
Does he look at them when he’s not watching me?
Did he think of me when he—
Stop right there.
Too late.
An image of him spread out on a bed, cock in hand, toned body on display, exploded through my mind. The only piece of clothing he wore was that damn mask, and I wanted to yank it off so I could see him biting his bottom lip as he self-pleasured.
You need professional help.
“Hey, Sails. Sails! Earth to Sailor Moon!”
I jumped high enough to fumble with my phone. It flew from my hands and clattered into the last few vials of essential oils.
“Oops. Sorry.” Lily snickered. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.” She waved at a pretty young woman with an equally pretty daughter clutching at her jeans. “This lovely customer wants to know if you have anything that can help with eczema?”
I smiled at the shy girl before nodding at the mother. “I do, actually.” Grabbing a particular tincture that Nana had spent years perfecting—thanks to her own battle with itchy, dry skin—I passed it to her. “This is medium strength, but I can make up a stronger batch if it’s not enough. It’s all natural with no side effects.”
“Oh wow.” The woman grinned. “That’s so nice of you.”
I left Lily to handle the sale, ever so grateful she’d agreed to help today. When I’d told her I was braving the big bad world and heading to the market, she’d cancelled her three open homes and insisted on being my honorary shopkeeper.
She’d tried to meet me at my place to help me load the endless boxes of face cream, night cream, lip balm, tinctures, essential oils, and other goods made from my garden into my pop’s ancient Honda Civic, but I’d laughed her off and said she needed her beauty sleep and to meet me at the local showgrounds where the market was held.