“Some guy was here looking for you yesterday afternoon,” Anna says to me after the last customer of the day walks out of the door.  I’m standing in the back corner of the room and refolding our stack of sale clothes for the third time of the day, and at the sound of her words little warning bells start to go off in my head.

It’s the following Wednesday after my long and lovely morning with Jesse, and since I spent last night curled up in my bed watching a movie with Fred and Carly while Jesse texted me from his parent’s house, I know it couldn’t have been either of them.

So who does that leave?

With my awful past with boys I don’t really socialize with many of them, the only others besides Fred and Jesse being acquaintances with classes that I swap notes with.  But those relationships are solely class and e-mail based, so it definitely couldn’t have been either of them.

“What’d he look like?” I ask her curiously, honestly a bit surprised that she remember to tell me.  She’s never forgiven me for her douche of a boyfriend transferring his affections towards me even though I couldn’t have felt a thing for the guy.

The few shifts that we work together we don’t speak unless we have to, so to hear her giving me a message almost kindly is a bit strange.

As she crosses the white wooden floors to the front door to lock it up, she says, “He was hot.  Brown hair, kind of short.”

My heart goes cold at the description.

“Did he leave a name?” I ask her desperately, praying that it’s not the boy I think it is.  I mean, it can’t be him, right?  I have a restraining order against him.  He couldn’t come to work while I was there, he’d be arrested.  He couldn’t possibly want to go back to jail, could he?

She says sharply, “I’m not your fucking answering machine, Mackenzie.  Sheesh.”

I roll my eyes at her, hating that she’s deciding to go back to her normal self now, now when I need answers.  I toss the last folded shirt onto the stack and then head towards the checkout area since it’s my night to count the cash.  As she walks over towards me, I tell her, “Anna come on.  I need to know.  Did he say anything?”

She scoffs, “Not every boy is obsessed with you.  I mean God, big head much?”

I resist the urge to reach across the counter and smack her.  “It isn’t like that, now come on.  Did he say anything for you to tell me?”

“Yeah,” she says bitterly, “He said to tell you that he hates that y’all can’t hang out anymore.  He misses you.”

So he…so he just came here to tell her that?  Did he deliberately come at a time where he knew I wouldn’t be here?  I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him.  He’s a smart guy, always had decent grades in high school and such.

But I never knew him to be so creepy.

Actually coming up to my work, knowing my schedule well enough to know that I wouldn’t be here, and then leaving a intentionally unnerving message with one of my coworkers has to be crossing some kind of line.  He obviously knows about the restraining order and isn’t pleased about it since he’s made such an effort to contact me over it.

I think that’s what creeps me out the most.

It isn’t that he knows my work schedule or anything, because he still isn’t allowed to come anywhere near me.  It’s just that he actually finds the need to send me messages, that he’s that affected by the order.

It’s extremely unsettling.

When I leave the little shop about an hour later my stomach is in knots, and I have this ridiculous feeling that someone’s watching me.  I know that it’s not possible for him to come around me and that he’d never do it because he’d just be sent straight back to jail, but still.  I can’t shake it.

I practically sprint to my car parked down the road and lock the doors once I’m in, leaning my head against the headrest and taking in heavy breaths.

Why now?  Why does this all have to be happening now, when I have something really good going for me?  It’s nowhere near fair, and I’m about as pissed over it as I am spooked.

As I drive throughout the dark streets I try and give myself a little pep talk, thinking that this really can’t be such a big deal.  It’s all just head games.  He must know that he can affect me because of my reaction when he showed up at the student union, and he’s just trying to provoke me into a downward spiral even more.

He literally cannot come near me, so I’m not in danger.

The only danger here is myself and my overactive imagination.  I can quell that, though, and I can go on pretending that everything is okay, because it all is.  Nothing’s going to happen, nothing can happen, and I need to remember that.

When I pull into the dorms I feel traitorous nerves in the pit of my stomach, and before I allow myself to get out of the car I make them calm down.  I can’t be like this, not when I’m about to see people in the hallways.  If anyone I know well sees me looking like this they’ll know something’s up and they’ll ask questions.

Questions I do not need.

My room is empty when I get there, and by the time I’ve managed to finish an online assignment due at nine the next morning, it’s well past midnight.  Luckily my earliest class on Thursday’s is English, and it doesn’t start until eleven.  So with that in my mind and the way my mind’s still racing after what Anna told me, I preoccupy myself with making a new video for YouTube.

The rough copy that I’ll have to edit tomorrow is done by one o’clock, and it’s around that time that I see Carly make her way through the room.  I curiously glance at her when she comes in, removing my ear buds, and ask her, “Where’ve you been?”

She never mentioned anything about being out so late.

But the longer I look at her I begin to realize.  She looks extremely cute, with a plain maroon crop top over a high rise black pleated skirt, and black tights paired with nude booties.  It’s an outfit I’d kill to put together myself, and the fact that she’s wearing something so nice out so late only means one thing.

“Was it that guy from the party?” I ask her with a knowing grin, and when I see the pink touch her cheeks I have my answer.

Absolutely thrilled that she’s found someone and has something to do other than harass me about Jesse, I demand, “What the hell, Carly? Why did I not know about this?!”

As she shrugs her black coat off of her shoulders and tosses it onto her bed she says, “Because we’ve both been so busy with midterms and stuff, and I don’t know…I didn’t want to get to invested in it in case it didn’t work out well.”

“Well did it?” I ask quickly, excitedly, my voice rising like it always does when something exciting happens.

A silly and huge smile lights up her beautiful face as she nods earnestly, propping herself up on her dresser so that she can sit and face me.  “He’s so amazing, Mackie.  I mean, my God.  It’s the best date I’ve ever been on.”

I squeal in exhilaration, clapping my hands together like a fool before deciding to give her the grand inquisition.  “What did y’all do?  Where’d you go?  Did he kiss you?”

She’s still smiling as she says, “We went and got one of those takeaway meals from those food trucks by the park which I was kind of freaked out, but oh my God it was so damn good.  And then we went and sat and just talked, and then he was going to take me home ‘cause it was getting late but neither of us wanted to leave so we decided to go to the movies right there and we saw that new Disney movie.  It was so cute and he like laughed during the silly parts even though it might not be the manliest thing in the world and oh my God, Mackie.  I think I love him.”

I’m laughing by the time she’s done, absolutely thrilled that she’s so happy.  She literally deserves nothing but the best, and a guy who’s willing to sit through a Disney movie with her is definitely the best.  And the date that he planned just sounds so utterly her that I can’t help but think she may have met someone special.

“I’m so happy for you sweetie,” I tell her, and it’s the honest-to-God truth.  While she may use antics that I’m not so fond of to get me to do something she knows I need to do, it still ends up with the end result we both know I need.  If not for her, I doubt I’d be this wrapped up with some guy that I can actually see myself having a true relationship with.

I think she’s a bit breathless from her rant because she just sits there and smiles for a long while, and then she turns to me and asks, “What time is it?  I have some special thing for bio at eight-thirty.”

I look down at the clock on my MacBook and then tell her, “It’s like fifteen after one.”

“Shit,” she grimaces, pushing herself off of the dresser and then pulling open the top drawer.  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.  I’m too wound up.”

I then realize she never answered one of my questions.  “Was it on purpose that you didn’t tell me if he kissed you?”

Her blush increases tenfold and I watch as she lifts her head to meet my stare through the mirror hanging over her dresser.  I’d know that blush anywhere.  “I may have let him feel me up in his car.”

“Carly!” I scold her playfully, but I honestly figured something like that would’ve happened.  Carly’s always been a firm believer in true loves and not waiting to do something which is something she inherited when her twin sister died at five years old.  If she wants someone, she lets them know and doesn’t let boundaries get in her way.

It’s something I’ve never understood but always wanted.

She grins wickedly, “His fingers are fucking magic, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Carly!” I squeal, laughing and lifting my hands up to cover my ears.

She turns to stick her tongue out at me, and for the millionth time since I’ve met her, I thank whoever I need to that she’s in my life.  Because even after my shitty day of finding out that some guy who aided in ruining my life is out to drive me crazy, I can still laugh and smile and be happy.

------

 “You stop that right now!” I order, slapping away the hand that’s been slipping up the back of my shirt every so often during the past hour.  I’ve been attempting to study for an upcoming history test and since it’s my second worst class, the worst being Spanish of course, I really need to buckle down and focus.

It’s this upcoming Monday and it’s now Saturday afternoon, and even though I’d told myself not to let Jesse come within yards of me because I knew it’d distract me, he kept texting me harassing little messages and I just couldn’t say no.  So when I opened the door to my dorm room and saw that wicked little smile of his, the one I’ve become quite familiar with because it means he wants naughty times, I immediately told him, “You can’t distract me.  I’m going to fail this exam if you do.”

He reluctantly agreed to my terms and conditions, following me into the room like a whipped little puppy and plopping himself on my bed where he quickly lost himself into a racing game on his phone.  But as time wore on he slowly became more and more restless, and as he did I noticed that he started looking at me longer, that he’d try and sneakily scoot closer to me.

I’d ignored it at first, but now that this is the fifth time he’s tried to feel me up without any kind of warning, I had to say something.

I whip my head around to face him and give him the look of death, which he just responds to with a boyish smile and extracting his hand from my shirt.  He says, “Sorry, I’m just so bored.”

“I told you I couldn’t do anything,” I remind him, knowing that I should be agitated with him for distracting me.  I can’t though, not when he looks so cute.

He groans, leaning his head back against the wall, “I know, but I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I tease, shaking my head at him in disbelief.  “I know you may think you’re like this pro at making me fall under your spell, but sorry buddy, you’re not that great.”

“Oh really?” he scoffs, obviously thinking my words are a load of bullshit.  He’s obviously right in thinking that since he’s managed to charm me into making out with him many times now, but still.  I can’t actually let him think that; it’ll give him too much power over me.

“Yes really,” I emphasize, giving him a hardened look.  This is probably doing nothing but encouraging him to prove me wrong, but at this point I’m too caught up in the flirting to care.

Which is the precise reason I shouldn’t have let him come over today.

He purses his lips, clearly trying to look deep in thought, and then asks me innocently, “So if I took off my shirt right now, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me?”

The thought of seeing his muscles again alights something exciting inside of me, but I make sure to push it down as I shake my head at him.  “Not even a little bit.”

“What if I promised to do that thing you like?  You know, that little spot on your neck?” he tries to sounds so harmless with his words, but when I feel him reach out and lightly trace over that exact spot with his pinky finger I know he has intentions of being anything but.  He knows that spot is my undoing, and if he’s going to try and use it to his advantage than he’s just cruel.

I narrow my eyes at him, trying my hardest to sound threatening, “Don’t you even dare.”

He grins knowingly, “What? Is it affecting you?”

I don’t even bother answering that ridiculous question.  Of course it’s effecting me, and the longer that he rubs the sensitive skin with that damned finger of his the more I want to forget about studying and have my wicked way with him.  I tell him, “I hate you.  So much.”

“Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Let’s just, like, go get ice cream or something.  I’m dying of boredom right now.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “If all you wanted was ice cream then what was the point of all that I’ll-take-my-shirt-off and the neck thing.  Were you just trying to rile me up?”

“Why, did it work?” he asks perceptively, as if he already knows the answer.

“Maybe a little,” I answer begrudgingly, and then lean in and place a heavy kiss on his lips, loving how he immediately knows to react and exactly how to do it in a way that lights my skin on fire.  But before I can let it go anywhere, I pull away and admit, “Ice cream does sound good.  But seriously, though, when we get back I have to study.”

“Fine,” he sighs theatrically, but I can tell how absolutely thrilled he is that I’m letting off to go get ice cream with him.

We get to the Baskin Robbins in town only about ten minutes later, and I definitely don’t miss when we walk in and the guy working behind the counter greets Jesse by name.  “Come here often?” I ask him slyly into his ear, and am rewarded with a deep chuckle.

He quickly orders a mix of random flavors that would probably upset my stomach, and I order just a double scoop of cookies and cream.  With studying for midterms and still dealing with the emotional trauma of not knowing what exactly Cameron’s up to, I haven’t been able to stomach very much.

Trust going out with Jesse to put me back in an eating mood, though.

There’s a cute little back porch to the building, with a mid-rise wooden fence and tall posts holding up a light blanket of white twinkle lights.  They’re unfortunately not on right now because it’s the middle of the afternoon, but I’ll have to make a mental note to come back here at nighttime.  I never knew an ice cream shop, especially a Baskin Robbins, could get so fancy.

Jesse leads me over to one of the wrought iron picnic tables and sits across from me, and I as I’m finally done taking in our surroundings I tell him, “This is so cute.  How did you know this was back here, I’ve never seen it.”

Surrounding the back porch is a modest size splotch of woods, and since the store is standalone it feels like we’re back here by ourselves.  It’s absolutely amazing.

He shrugs his shoulders as he takes a generous bite of ice cream out of the biggest cone I’ve ever seen in my life.  I don’t know how he’s going to eat all of that, but judging by the way he knows the guy who works here and about the porch outside, I figure he’ll probably make it work.

After he swallows he answers and says, “Fred’s ex used to work here, so we’d come out here a lot.”

“Oh?” I answer, wanting to know what actually happened with the two of them but not wanting to pry.

He nods and says, “Yeah.  She didn’t work here very long because Fred’s parents took her in.”

Now I’m definitely curious.  “Why’d they take her in?” I ask, taking a bite of my ice cream.

He doesn’t seem the least bit miffed to answer the question, which definitely makes me feel better about not wanting to be nosy.  I truly want to know, though, because I have a feeling there’s a pretty good story here.  There has to be a reason Fred’s so jaded when it comes to dating and relationships, especially when he could probably get whatever girl he wanted.

He says, “Her parents kicked her out when she dropped out of high school, so she lived with her aunt for a while.  She was miserable the whole time so she got a job here to try and save up for an apartment, but then one night she went to Fred’s and said her uncle had smacked her around.  So his parents took her in.”

“Holy crap,” I respond, suddenly a bit more grateful for my upbringing no matter how tense it got during high school.  At least I always had a roof over my head. “That’s awful.”

He nods thoughtfully, “It was tough, that’s for sure.”

“Why’d they break up?”

He says, “It’s a really long story, but he ended up falling for one of our friends.  He stayed with Jeanie, though, because she relied on him so much and he felt bad, but then the friend he liked got a boyfriend and Fred went kind of crazy.  She rejected him, but Jeanie still found out and flipped.  She pretty much left on her own.”

“Oh my God,” I muse, taking another munch of ice cream and then saying after a minute or so, “Poor Fred.  And poor Jeanie.  That’s horrible.”

He says, “Yeah, but it was good for them I think.  Fred’s parents were happy they split up ‘cause she was apparently making all of them miserable, and to get him far away from her they said that if he went here they’d pay for it and for him an apartment.  So that’s how he has his place.”

“What happened to Jeanie?  Is she homeless now or something?”

“Nahh,” he says shaking his head, “Not at all.  She’d met some guy while her and Fred were still together so she went and bunked with him.”

“That’s insane,” I point out.  And then I ask, “So that’s why Fred’s so against dating?”

“I guess,” he says.

I go to respond and say something along the lines of how sad that is for him and how he deserves any girl he wants for how nice he is, but before I can my phone starts to ring from inside of my purse.  I sigh and reach for it, grimacing when I see that it’s my mother calling.  I tell Jesse, “It’s my mom, sorry,” and then answer with a “Hey, mom.”

She doesn’t even bother to say “hi” back.  Instead she abruptly starts the conversation with, “Your dad just told me that he had to put a restraining order against one of those boys weeks ago!  Why have you not told me?”

A bit of panic starting to set in at having to have this conversation in front of Jesse, and if he was able to hear her loud, shrill voice over my phone, I quickly say, “I’m busy right now, mom.  Can we talk later?”

“No!” she demands, making me wince.  “Why did you not call me the