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But when I think of her, those reasons don’t seem to be that important. I don’t ever think like this, and I don’t know what the hell is going on in my mind. I have been with countless women, but I’ve never wanted one the way I want Clara. To say I’m confused is an understatement. Maybe I just need to fuckher good one time and get it out of my system. Though, I’ve seen enough movies to know that never works. If I touch her, taste her, slide into her sweet cunt, I’ll be hers forever.
And the thought of that scares me to my core.
I assumed thinking that way would urge me not to contact her, but when I got a notification of movement at six a.m., I couldn’t bear not making sure she was okay. What if someone had broken in, hurt her? Or what if she tripped over the dogs and cracked her skull? I couldn’t live with myself, so I hit the camera to find her lowering herself to the floor with the dogs. My huge California-king-sized bed is neatly made and empty, while she lies on the floor. She cuddles with the dogs and with a pillow and blanket that I don’t own. Has she not been in my bed? What the hell?
Unable to resist, I text her since I know she’s awake.
Me: Why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?
Clara: How do you know that?
Oh.
Fuck.
Me.
Well, no reason to lie.
Me: I have cameras throughout the house and got worried when the camera went off so early.
Once more, bubbles appear and then disappear before appearing again.
Clara: You have cameras?
Me: Yes. One in every room but the bathroom, and six outside.
Clara: In every room?
My heart is in my throat. I may as well start looking for a new dog sitter because I’m pretty sure mine is about to quit. I may need to let my lawyer know, too, in case she sues me.
I’m such an eejit.
Me: Yes.
Clara: So, you’ve been watching me?
Me: No, not in the way you think. Only when there is movement that I don’t expect to be there.
Clara: You know that’s fucked up, right? Especially since you didn’t tell me.
I clench my jaw.
Me: I do realize that, and I apologize for not informing you sooner.
She reads my message but doesn’t answer. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands go numb as I hold my phone in a death grip. I close my eyes, feeling like the biggest fucker in the world, until I hear the whoosh of an alert.
I look down to find her message.
Clara: So, what? When there is movement, you just watch me?
Me: No. I make sure everything is okay, and that’s it.
Clara: Why don’t I believe you?
Because we both know I’m a creep.
Clara: How many times have you watched me?
