AllFreeNovel
Share Us
For some uncanny reason, a tear slides down my cheek as I pull up into my driveway. After I park, I take a deep breath, cover my face, and bite my lip. “What is wrong with me?”
I’m going insane.
I’m jealous of someone I’ve barely met because of someone I’ve never met.
And, worse…the universe has provided me with the awful ability to make poor decisions.
Simply put?
It’s Thursday.
Chapter 2
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I should really think these things through.
No matter how I cut this crazy cake, it still doesn’t produce a mentally stable slice.
Night garbs the woods, and a pack of coyotes could attack me, but here I am, wandering my way through toward a movie night invitation that never expires. Because I clearly have issues.
I’ve almost turned around seven times, never quite making it more than three steps back toward sanity. “This is madness,” I whisper at myself as I smooth my hands down the front of my sundress. “Complete madness.”
I shaved. I put on lip gloss. I’m wearing a dress.
All because I thought I saw Doliver, and I’ve convinced myself he’s dating the pretty, unique, fun, interesting alt woman in the woods. I must know the truth. I must not make a fool of myself if he is actually there, if he’s the one who opens the door when I knock.
I turn around.
What am I doing?
One step.
I’m really going to show up at a stranger’s house unannounced like this?
Two steps.
They’ll both know I’m only there because he’s famous and I’m a creep.
Thr—
I turn back.
I will never sleep again unless I know whether or not I really saw him, whether or not he’s really dating her, whether or not I’m really going crazy. He’s a celebrity. I’ll probably hate him after two minutes of basking in the presence of his ego. He’s a guy. A popular guy. The worst kind of guy. Entitlement doesn’t begin to describe popular guys. They think they’re a blessing to girls everywhere, that it’s an honor to be with them. Commitment is a joke because fewer people get to enjoy their valued company if they commit to one person.
Marching with a desperate need for closure, I spot the cottage, clench my fists, and make it to the front door.
This is the weirdest thing I have ever done.
I might be possessed.
My hand shakes as I lift it and knock.
Tangling my fingers, I shift my weight from one foot to the other, chew my cheek, and tell my heart to calm down. It doesn’t listen. Beyond the door, I hear voices.
There’s a front window I can creepily peek in, but I think I’m already hitting the limits of my nerve.
No one answers.
