“Wait… hold on. What?” Lizzy said, dropping her spoon into her cereal. “Jase came in the house last night?”
I gave her a sharp look. “Don’t look so amazed. He’s crazy.”
“I like crazy.”
“You are crazy!” I hissed.
“Exactly.”
I grumbled in protest and stared back down at my food, taking a bite and chewing.
She just watched me. “Sis.”
“What?” I swallowed.
“Care to explain to me why you’re uptight about him?” she wondered.
“He’s crazy.”
“Is that the only reason?” she questioned.
“He gives me creepy vibes, and he stalks me. I seriously think he’s secretly a serial killer.”
She just nodded in agreement. “Alright. How about this? We stalk him back.”
I glanced over at her in question.
She gave me her award-winning smile. “You always told me you know nothing about him because he gives nothing off. But what if we watched him for a day?”
I thought this over for a moment. “I tried that. He found me.”
“Then you weren’t sneaking around enough,” she stated boldly. “Do tell me… do you know where he is today?”
I closed my eyes tightly. “When he’s not working, he’s usually at the arcade.”
She smirked. “How do you know this?”
“Because….”
She snickered before sliding off her chair. “Come on. Let’s go get some more info.”
Almost twenty minutes later, Lizzy and I walked into the arcade, Fantastics.
We stopped at the entrance, and she pulled my hood more over my hair so I could hide, and she gave me a toothy-grin before nodding off.
I listened to her silent command, quietly sneaking around the arcade machines before making it to the fighting games.
And sure enough, he was there, intently pounding the buttons on that fighting game I first saw him playing. That Street Battle game or something.
I watched him for a moment before I sank behind the machines, and I then snuck off to the other part of the arcade—to the food desk person who knew Jase relatively well.
Jase was here almost twenty-four seven. But still… how often did he order sodas?
“Hey!” I said kindly, pulling the hood back a touch so he could see my face. “How are you doing today?”
He gazed up from cleaning a glass. “Peachy. You wanna drink? We have cola.”
I nodded and scooted onto a barstool, and he walked off.
Seconds later, he came back and set a bottle of soda in front of me. “Two-twenty.”
I shuffled through my jacket and pulled out a five-dollar bill.
He took it and opened the cash register.
“Do you know Jase?” I asked him casually. “Jase Deriek?”
“Kinda,” he responded, putting my money in. “He’s a frequent. Devours all my ginger-ale.”
I smiled at his attempt of a joke and gazed up. “How often does he come here?”
“Pretty often,” he said, shutting the register and handing me some coins.
I just dropped them into the tip jar and opened my drink. “How often would you say?”
“Every day,” he responded then, setting his elbows on the counter, “almost at nine daily, apart from weekends. On weekends he’s here in the afternoon.”
“How long does he spend time here?” I asked him.
He thought this over for a moment before looking down at me. “About two-to-four hours.”
I nodded, taking a sip despite the confusion coiling my stomach.
If he had school, worked from three to nine, and then went to the arcade for four hours… how the hell did he have time to stalk me?
It was horrific. Every time I pressed for more answers, he just got more confusing.
“Why do you ask?” he said then.
I gazed up. “Oh, no reason. I just wanted to ask him out.”
I almost kicked myself because I knew that was a desire I had, but I wanted to think it was a lie.
“Oh, yeah?” the clerk just nodded. “I mean… I would tap that.”
I silenced, cheeks burning a bright red.
I then scooted off the booth and bowed slightly. “Thank you. I must go now.”
And I walked off.
I tapped my cheeks to get them to stop dusting with red, but I feared it wasn’t working.
And I was also extremely irritated. Every time I pried more into his life… new questions aroused. And it was bothering me.
Deciding I needed some fresh air, I stepped outside and sank next to a wall.
I lost Lizzy a while ago… something told me she found a game and was playing it. I swear she just wanted a reason to come to the arcade, she expected me to do all this myself.
What a caring sister.
After taking a couple deep breaths, I closed my eyes, feeling the bitter wind bite my skin.
But a voice came to my right:
“Enjoying yourself?”
I screamed, throwing myself backward when I shot my eyes to his direction.
Jase just smirked, eyes glowing dangerously as he leaned a shoulder on the wall beside mine.
“What the hell?!” I snapped at him, growing irate. “Stop doing that!”
He laughed softly before clearing his throat. “Sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry. In fact, he sounded the opposite of sorry.
I glared sharply, enough to cut his skin like knives. “You scared me.”
He just gazed up, setting his head on the wall. “I just saw you walking around and thought it’d be better to say hi.”
Something was telling me he was lying. How was he lying?
“Yes, jump scaring me is the best way to say ‘hello, how are you’.” I mocked his tone.
He chuckled and closed one eye as if he was taunting me, but he parted both lashes. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to play some games,” I lied then, voice rough.
“Why are you dressed like a shoplifter?” he questioned me then.
I just pulled the hood off my hair and crossed my arms, setting my back against the wall. “This sweatshirt is comfy.”
“You’re wearing all black,” he stated then.
“So are you.”
“Yes, but this is my usual attire. You usually wear skirts and dresses. Right now, you’re dressed like you’re about to commit a crime.”
I just sighed.
He was right. Right now I had on a pair of black leggings as well as a black sweatshirt with a hood. The hood that I used to cover my hair so he wouldn’t recognize me.
Look how well that turned out.
I just closed my eyes and tipped my head back. “It’s cold. I decided to dress comfy.”
His lips settled in the stage before a smile, and he watched me curiously. “Why are you snooping on me?”
My composure immediately shattered, and my eyes flew open.
How did he…? Did he hear my conversation? Was he onto me the whole time?
How did he keep doing this?
But I didn’t respond, just stared at the beam in front of me.
“If you’re going to go to people I barely know and ask them about my whereabouts,” he said then, “I would prefer greatly if you asked me.”
I straightened then. “You just dodge every question I have. Why would I ask you?”
“Try me,” he stated then, though I wasn’t sure if he meant it.
I sighed then. “How often do you come here?”
“Almost every night.”
“What time?”
“When I get off work,” he stated then, “at about nine-ish.”
“How long do you stay here?” I demanded.
“Two hours to four.”
“And on weekends?”
“I come here in the afternoon. Two hours to four.”
I nodded, knowing fully that he and that clerk’s stories matched up, so Jase wasn’t lying to me.
“What time do you start work?” I questioned.
“At about three every weekday. Work until nine.”
“Alright,” I stated then, rubbing my arm uncomfortably.
“May I ask what these questions are related to?” he asked me, tone slightly darkened.
I decided to go out completely and spill it. “I’m trying to determine whether or not you’re a criminal.”
He silenced before his smile grew foxlike. “Oh. I see. Why don’t you just ask me the questions you’re trying to answer?”
I stared out in the distance for a moment, unsure if my body was cold from fear, or if it was just the biting wind.
But I dropped the act of beating around the bush, and I said it directly. “Are you stalking me?”
He just shook his head at my boldness before gazing up. “It depends on your definition of ‘stalking’.”
“Answer yes or no.”
“No.”
He was lying. I knew he was.
How else did he show up everywhere I went? Did he think I was dumb?
“Have you had a DV situation?” I said then. “Caused one? Hit your girlfriend?”
His eyes darkened as if the question cut him. “No.”
By his tone, I knew he was telling the truth.
“Do you have a history of violence?” I said then. “Restraining orders? Police brutality? Bar fights? Kidnapping?”
He smiled as if my questions amused him. “No restraining orders. No police brutality. No bar fights. No kidnappings.”
Yet, a voice whispered in my head.
I tried my hardest to ignore it despite chills slicing through me. “Have you ever killed someone?”
He was silent for too long. “Mmm…” he said finally, “no.”
“You hesitated.” I spared him a nervous glance.
“I haven’t,” he said then. “Unless you count the two pounds of hot dogs I spilled on the floor yesterday. All those homeless people grow hungry because of me.”
So he hadn’t killed someone or he hadn’t tried?
I swallowed something hard before I pressed the last questions from my lips. “Have you had previous relationships? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”
His smile widened a touch. “Is that question related to your fear of me or do you want to know if I’m taken?”
“Answer.”
“I’m available,” he stated then, eyes burning with something I couldn’t name. “Wide open. No appointments booked. Take me home today, I’m free of charge.”
I just scoffed. “Like I would buy the likes of you.”
“Hurtful.”
I sent him a look but turned away. “I’m going home.”
And as I walked forward, a small smile curled my lips.
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