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"Absolutely," Kelly says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I excel at tripping over flat surfaces and bumping into stationary objects. It's a gift." She tilts her head, brown locks tumbling from beneath her hat, which is frankly too stylish for a Tuesday morning.
"Sounds dangerous," I reply, keeping my tone even, but inside, I'm wary. This kind of free-spiritedness is foreign to me, and it scratches at the walls I've built around myself.
"Only to myself—and apparently, to unsuspecting bystanders like you." A giggle escapes her, and it's infectious, though I lock down the response before it can show on my face. "I promise I usually have better aim with my coffee."
"Good to know," I say, folding my arms across my chest—a barrier against more than just errant coffee spills. "So, what brings you here today? Besides redecorating strangers’ shirts?"
"Work, actually." She pulls out a seat without asking and sits down, her presence suddenly filling the space opposite me. "I'm meeting a client here. I design things...graphics, websites, logos. You know, making the world prettier one pixel at a time."
"Ah," I nod, acknowledging the stark contrast between her creative flair and my own utilitarian view of the world. "Sounds fulfilling."
"Most days." She shrugs, then leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "What about you? You seem more like a...well, not a graphic designer."
"Got that right," I agree. "I'm just grabbing coffee before heading to the gym. Routine keeps me grounded."
"Routine is good," she says quickly, almost tripping over her words in her eagerness. "But a little chaos can be fun, don't you think?"
"Fun isn't exactly the word I'd use," I tell her, thinking back on the years where chaos was the norm, where it meant life or death, not spilled coffee and laughter.
"Maybe not," she concedes, tapping a finger against her chin. "But it makes for a good story, right?"
"Depends on who's telling it." I stand up, feeling the itch to move, to put distance between me and this whirlwind of a woman who seems to see life as a thing to be celebrated rather than survived.
"Hey, before you go..." Kelly starts, but I hold up a hand.
"Keep your coffee aimed in the other direction next time, and we'll call it even," I say, offering her a tight-lipped smile that doesn't quite mask the twinge of regret for cutting this short. But some stains, like the ones on my shirt and the ones in my mind, need more than a quick cleanup—they need time and space, something I'm not ready to give.
I don't wait for her reply. I can't. Instead, I stride away, each step heavy with the things I don't say, the things I can't allow myself to feel. Not now. Not with her bright eyes and her easy smile that make me want things I have no right to want.
"Goodbye, Kelly," I whisper to the door as it closes behind me, sealing her off from me.
My curiosity about her festers, an itch I won't scratch. Not today. Maybe not ever.
CHAPTER
TWO
Greg
I'm at my laptop, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows around my dimly lit room. I can't shake her from my mind—Kelly, with those expressive brown eyes that seem to see right through me. It's like a tickle in the back of my brain, an itch I just gotta scratch. So I do what I do best. I dive deep into the web, slipping past the usual crap on social media to find the real her.
My fingers fly across the keyboard with a precision that's second nature, honed in places where information means the difference between life and death. It doesn’t take long before I’ve pieced together her schedule, her habits, the little tidbits that make up her day-to-day. There's a pang of something—guilt, maybe?—but it's drowned out by a surge of something else entirely as I click through her pictures.
There she is, laughing with a vibrancy that fills the pixels before me. Her style's all bright colors and confidence, hats tipped just so atop her long brown hair. I lean back, letting my mind wander, letting the fantasy take shape. My hand moves of its own accord as I unzip my pants and fist my hard cock.
I stroke it swiftly as I picture what it would be like to have her here with me. To hear those quick, excited words spill from her lips while my name rides on her breathy moans.
When my cum bubbles up from my tip, the release is sharp and sweet. A momentary escape that leaves me hollowed out and even more restless than before.
"Shit," I mutter, swiping a hand down my face. This isn't me, or at least, it shouldn't be. Stalking a woman online, getting off to a digital ghost—it's a line I never thought I'd cross. But with Kelly...hell, it feels like I don't have a choice.
I tell myself to stay away, to let whatever this is fizzle out. But the next thing I know, I'm walking the streets, tracing her steps like some lovesick shadow. I know her favorite spots now, the rhythm of her life in this city. And it's no surprise, really, when I end up outside that same coffee shop, the one where we first met.
I tell myself I just want to see herself up close again.
I know it’s a damn lie, though.
"Hey, stranger," greets that warm voice, knocking the wind clean out of me. She's there, looking every bit as radiant as she does in her online world, maybe more.
