"Why do I feel like you've been following me?" His answer is a smile. He then takes a sip of his drink and trains his eyes on me, but still doesn't say anything. "Have you?" I try to follow up.

"What does it matter?"

That's his way of saying yes, he has been following me.

"That's just wrong and weird and... creepy. Who does that?"

"I do!"

"Since when?"

"You don't wanna know." Another small sip of his drink. "I'm just trying to make sure you are safe." His voice is noticeably gentler.

"I am safe!"

"You don't know that." He argues, still keeping a very fluid tone. I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath, exhale heavily before snapping them open again. My brain cells are dividing in my head. This conversation is draining the energy from my bones and I hate the fluttering sensation I feel in my stomach.

He has done nothing but annoy me since he showed up here, but a part of me likes the fact that he's here with me. It even dares to feel excited. Those stupid butterflies in my stomach won't stay calm and no matter how much I pluck the flower petals that keep blooming in my chest, they keep growing out.

I hate that I like this time we are spending together.

hate that I still enjoy

you thinking

not to talk or argue with you. You are ruining

buy you another

"This one's enough!"

than you were two years ago." That statement makes me

two years ago. I was weak and naive

sets the glass on the counter, his

trampled over you?" He asks

"Didn't you?"

don't like where this conversation is

up my purse and step down from the stool again, this time looking more determined to leave

something important

hear it." I demur, shaking my

important. You have to listen. I'm begging you. Please." His fervent beseeching

doesn't insist on something

in a very sour mood, but I know I won't get any sleep tonight or get any work done tomorrow or hell... live my life as I should if I don't listen to what he wants to say to me. "Fine." I finally agree, praying in my heart that I don't look as

it is,

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