Page 81

My eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He lifted his brow and waited. Damn him. I refused to hold his gaze and rested my cheek on him again. But now that he confronted me with the question, it made me realize something.

“Even though I prefer it, I hate being alone,” I admitted. “I think it’s the loneliness that gets to me, and why I didn’t tell anyone I had a stalker. I liked the company.”

I smiled lightly, recalling the first time my admirer had messaged me and how overcome with fear I was. At the time, it had shocked me so much, I’d left his message unanswered for two weeks. I had stared at my phone then, practically burning my palm, and contemplated changing my number.

It was only when I’d gone out in search of a quick adrenaline rush in the form of breaking into a library that I’d finally answered, my blood thick with residual thrill. I had even kept the book he recommended I steal. It turned out that I really liked his recommendation, and so I kept it tucked away on my bookshelf. I re-read it every once in a while.

“Lonely even with Amelia?” Manic asked.

I sighed, hating my answer. “Even with Amelia. I think I knew I couldn’t share that with her. I’m not even sure she was my friend.”

“Did he not… scare you?”

“He did at first,” I admitted, “but after a few months, I realized that he was probably lonely too.”

He hummed, his chest rising softly. I lifted my eyes again and studied the underside of his jaw, the lines of his throat as he swallowed. His arm now rested over his forehead, casting a shadow over his eyes.

“Why won’t you tell me his name?” I asked. “If I told you what your father has on me… would you give me a name?”

I instantly regretted the offer. My heart thudded so violently against my ribcage, my stomach twisted with nausea.

I didn’t want to relive that night, but thinking about it now, my admirer’s name was the only thing I truly cared about. It outweighed whatever repercussions came with exposing myself, and if Manic decided to use that information against me, so be it.

His eyes flicked down before he focused on the ceiling again.

“Keep your secret,” he said. “Even if you told me, I wouldn’t give you a name.”

“Why not?”

My cheeks blazed, and that odd sensation from earlier rose again. That prickle of awareness that whispered I might be looking at the culprit. I should just ask outright, but I couldn’t find it in me to do it. Fear pressed down, mainly over the answer he might give me.

“Because you wouldn’t like who it is.”

I frowned. “Is he a bad person?”

“Something like that.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “He's incapable of caring, and he would ruin your life. It’s probably best that you don’t know.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” I teased, hoping he’d fall for the bait.

He didn’t. Yet, his silence was loud and my pulse climbed. I sat quiet and pensive for a long moment, processing his words, or lack of.

Still, I didn't believe him.

“I’m not as fragile as you believe, and I think you’re wrong,” I said and stared across the room once more. “No one, not even a stalker, would entertain a five year conversation if they didn’t care in their own way. However wrong that sounds.”

“He violated your privacy. No one in their right mind would do that,” he said bluntly.

I shrugged against him, a sad smile pulling at my lips. “He was lonely. If I gave him even a hint of distraction to his own life like he did for me, I'd be glad for it. Who cares about privacy?”

He only sighed again and said, “Go to sleep.”

I swallowed a laugh, but after a few minutes, Manic’s breathing evened out. I stared at the shadowed ceiling, my thoughts drifting back to my phone and my list of observations about my admirer. Even my parents entered my mind.

I knew Manic kept my phone in his room, locked away somewhere, but I was too afraid to break in. Too afraid to ask.

Would he give it to me if I just simply… asked?