Bubbles are high in the sky, making me laugh. Maxine found a bubble gun at work today and brought it home to play. We sit in the back yard of the house as she squeezes the trigger, sending bubbles floating through the air.

“You‘re such a dork,” I say.

“Come on, everyone loves bubbles.” She laughs. Rock-star sunglasses hang low on her nose as she grins.

“Sure, when you combine it with shooting them out of a gun. Let me try?” I lean over and reach for the contraption. She hands me the gun as she pushes her sunglasses back to her eyes.

I spray bubbles in her direction as Maxine tries to catch a few.

“So, where are you taking Trace tonight?”

“I’m not sure. Where do you think?”

“You can always take him to Sofa Kings,” she says, swinging her hair out of her face.

“No thanks.”

“You never told me why you bolted out the other night.”

Looking to Maxine, I place the gun on the table and tell her about the Hailey confrontation in the restroom, when she told me to stay away from Trace.

“That hooker slut,” she says, grabbing the gun and spraying bubbles right in my face.

“My thoughts exactly.” I guard my face with a hand.

“Do you want me to handle her?” She aims the gun into the yard as if she is a member of Charlie’s Angels.

“No, I can handle her. I’ll just avoid her.”

Maxine and I continue talking and popping bubbles as the afternoon fades away. Trace will be over soon for our official second date, and the butterflies are whining to be free. My nerves erupt as I think about seeing him after our mind-numbing electronic sex last night.

As I head into the house to get ready, Maxine yells, “Hey, you can always stop by and eat at Pesto’s and come see me!”

“We can do that, thanks!” I call after her.

While I get ready, I hear a crash outside the house. I go to the window to investigate and see a man in a dark, hooded jacket rifling through the bushes. A loud scream escapes my lips, and the figure takes off into the night.

My hands are shaky as I pull my phone out to dial Trace’s number. On the third ring, the call connects.

“Hey, Vanessa, what’s up?” He huffs and puffs into the phone.

“Hey, why are you out of breath?”

“I’m running.”

My fingers tremble as I lock the doors again to be sure. Can he be running from my house?

“Why are you running?”

“Come outside.”

I freak a little when he says this and shake my head no. His black Cobra is parked across the street as I close the curtain and breathe into the phone.

“Why?” My voice quivers.

“When I arrived at your house, I saw someone take off running. I hopped out and chased him, but he was too fast for me.”

I decide to remain where I am until he comes to the door. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen scary movies before.

There is a knock at the door, and I peek through the peephole. I see Trace standing there and fling the door open.

“Hi.” I stare at him a moment, then stick my head out to peer down the street.

He steps inside and looks around. “Did you see that guy?” he asks, rubbing his hands along the entryway table.

“No, I saw someone peeping around, but when I screamed, he took off running.”

“I chased that motherfucker for a while. God, I’m tired.” He leans over and places both hands on his knees.

“Want a glass of water?” I ask.

He nods a yes, and I head into the kitchen, pour the water, and hand it to him.

He sucks the water down, gulping loudly.

“You gonna be okay?” I laugh with sarcasm etched into my tone.

“Yeah, just let me catch my breath.”

“I thought you were in shape!”

He lifts his lips up into a crooked smile. “That guy ran fast.”

“I guess so. Next time maybe stay in your car and chase him with that,” I suggest, deadpan.

“Here I am, trying to rescue you, and you make fun of me.” He frowns.

I lift my arms to my chest in a swoony move and say, “Aww, my hero. Grown up and ready to save the damsel in distress. Just be careful—he has absolutely no street smarts.”

My sarcasm is thick, and he looks hurt for a moment and then laughs, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me into a hug. “Listen here, smart ass, next time I’ll call you first, ask what you would do, then react,” he says with quick wit.

“No, but seriously, who do you think it was?” I ask, backing out of his embrace. The uneasiness I felt earlier about the cellular affair evaporates.

“I don’t know. Did you see what he was doing?” he asks, returning his glass to the sink.

I follow his movements and smile, seeing a man who cleans up after himself.

“I think he was looking through my windows.”

“What a freak. Well, he’s gone now. I feel safer knowing you will be with me tonight.”

“Are you ready to go? Or do you need to lie down?” I ask, smiling as I grab my flip-flops. Slipping them on my feet, I head towards the door.

He shakes his head as he grins from ear to ear. “Maybe lie down with you.”

“Oh, looky, another typical guy comment,” I say, sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get outta here.” He rolls his eyes as he leads me out the door.

The walk to his car seems to put Trace on edge, and we peek over our shoulder the whole way.

He opens my door, and I climb in. As he shuts my door, he suggests, “Maybe we should drive around the block first, to make sure he isn’t still running around?”

We drive through the neighborhood a few times but don’t see anyone lurking around mysteriously. After the third loop around the block, Trace turns out of the development, and asks, “So where are we headed?”

“I figured we could do dinner and then the beach.” I hug my seat belt tighter as Trace drives down the road. Being in the car with him gives me a sense of security.

We pull up in the parking lot of Pesto’s. When we enter the restaurant, I ask the hostess to seat us in Maxine’s section.

The table is near the back. After we sit, Trace surveys the menu.

“This is nice,” he says, reaching for my hand across the table. As he lays his hand over mine, I smile. The lights are low and the candle from our table casts a soft glow around us.

“It is. Do you know what you want?” I ask, putting my menu down.

“Yes. I want you.” He stares at me from across the table, and my heartbeat accelerates. A warm fuzzy feeling travels up my spine, and I hope it never ends.

“Nice.” I shake my head, my face turning a crimson color. I smile and continue looking over my menu.

Maxine sees us and makes her way to our table. “Hey, guys.” She smiles.

“Hi, Max. How’s work been?” I ask.

Trace says hello, and we give her our food order.

“Did you hear? Doug quit today. Like just up and quit.”

“What? No. That’s crazy. Did he say anything before he left?” I ask, leaning on the table to hear Maxine better.

“Nope. He just walked out.” She waves both hands in the air and smiles.

“Well, good riddance. I can’t stand him.”

“Wait. Who is Doug?” Trace interjects.

I lower my head to lean in closer, not wanting to blurt out my feelings for my old boss to loudly.

“He was our manager, but I guess he quit,” I whisper to Trace.

“Does he know you don’t like him?”

Maxine walks away to fetch our drinks while I continue talking to Trace.

“I don’t think I kept it too big a secret. I mean, everyone hated him.” I glance around the restaurant at the other staff members; we all felt the same way.

“Do you think he may have some kind of secret obsession with you?” he asks, looking around.

I lean further across the table. “No, I don’t think so. Whoever is behind all of this, I can assure you it’s not my old stupid boss.”

“If you say so. I’m not trusting anyone.” He peers across the table at me, and I feel his heat travel through the room and land on me. His need to protect me doesn’t go unnoticed; I’m so glad he is here. I don’t think Doug has anything to do with the notes or break-in, but you can never be too sure.

We eat our dinner and leave to walk around the beach. The sun has set as we park, so Trace pulls out a blanket from his trunk.

“Do you always come prepared?” I laugh.

“As prepared as a Boy Scout.”

Together, we walk down the wooden staircase that leads out to the sandy shore. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an awe-inspiring shimmer across the still water. We walk along the beach to a spot where he lays out the blanket. We sit and gaze at our majestic view of the ocean.

“This is so nice,” I say, leaning my head against Trace’s shoulder.

“I agree.”

“The beach at night is so serene. I could stay out here forever.”

“Not to change the subject, but we need to make a game plan,” Trace says, sitting up and turning his head to face mine.

“Okay.”

“We need to come up with some possible suspects of who can be after you. I think Jordan may be behind some of this. I mean, let’s face it Vanessa, the guy has a serious crush on you.”

“I know, but I have told him I don’t feel that way for him.”

“Do you think he could do anything like this?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I called my mom and sister the other day to find out where Eric is.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?” Trace’s eyes light up when he sees we’re getting somewhere.

“They don’t know much, but they said he’s visiting friends out of state.” I lower my head and wonder if Eric can be after me. How angry he was when I left him plays through my memory.

“Did he ever mention friends who live out of state?”

“Not that I can remember.” I try to rack my brain and recall everything Eric ever told me.

“I think I may start following Jordan and see what he is up to.”

“Okay, Trace, there is something else I need to tell you. I never thought it was a big deal before.”

I see him tense up, and I put my hand on his arm to let him know everything is okay.

“Tony asked me out before and…”

“What? Tony? Then why…?” He stops his thought, but I can see the fury in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. And what?” He shakes his head and then turns his eyes on me. My body grows needy under his stare, and I’m reminded of last night’s phone conversation. I smile and nudge him with my shoulder.

“There was a note in my room after our house party. After I walked you out, I went to my room and it was there. Also, at Craig’s house party, Tony cornered me in a dark hallway and tried to kiss me.”

“What?” His gaze is intense. He jumps to his feet, stomps around back and forth, and grabs fistfuls of hair, growing angrier.

“Trace? What is it?”

He stops and turns to face me, forgotten on the blanket. He bends to his knees and crawls over to where I sit.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Where were we?” He stares off into the distance and takes a calming breath.

“So, you will follow Jordan?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, and maybe we can get walkie-talkies. That way we can stay in touch as we figure things out.”

“Ooh, real cloak and dagger-type shit, huh? Or we can use our cell phones.” I laugh.

“Or that will work, too,” he notes, chagrined, as he runs his hands down my shivering arms.

He holds me closer to him as we watch the stars. I continue to rack my brain, thinking about who could be behind everything that’s happened. Trace notices when my body becomes rigid and tugs me closer.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning his head down to kiss the top of my head.

“I’m just scared. What if it’s Eric?”

“Listen, I know this sounds so seventh grade, but will you be my girlfriend?” He says.

“What, like, for real?” I want to say yes and jump into his arms, but Trace doesn’t usually do girlfriends.

“I just want this secret admirer to know you’re taken, and I want to be the one who has taken you.”

“So, only my boyfriend for appearances?”

He shakes his head, running his hands through his dark hair. “Hell no. I want to be your boyfriend. I want you.”

I smile at him and wrap my arms around him. The wind picks up and brushes his hair across his forehead. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,” I say, smiling wide.

“Oh, another thing. Are you free next Sunday morning?” he asks, releasing me from his embrace.

I sit up and face him, answering, “Sure.”

“I have this thing with my parents at their club. Will you come with me?”

Cringing at the thought of meeting his parents, my lips purse. His parents? Thinking long and hard, I realize I would love to see where he comes from.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

He smiles, leans in, and brushes his lips across mine. He lets out a low growl, and I melt into him. His lips are full and envelop mine in one swift motion. Tongues tangle together in a dance of desire.

I dig my fingers into his hair as the ocean air drifts through my senses. My brain clouds over at Trace’s magical touch. He lies me down onto my back and grazes a finger along my stomach.

His eyes hypnotize me, and I feel myself falling under his cosmic spell. He looks down on me, pleading with his eyes. I want to give myself to him, but a mysterious feeling washes over me. Sitting up straight, I knock Trace off me.

“What’s wrong?” he says, looking around.

“I don’t know. I have the odd feeling like someone is watching me.” I stand up and dust the sand off.

“Yeah, let’s get outta here.” He picks up the blanket and shakes it.

We pile into the Cobra, and he starts the engine. I glance around the parking lot to see if there is anything out of the ordinary. My attention returns to Trace when I don’t see anyone with a sign stating they are stalking me.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I say, turning in the seat to look at him.

“You can stay with me.”

“How about you stay at my house? I don’t really feel like being around your roommates.”

He turns down the highway and winks at me. “Actually, I agree with you there.”

The pesky butterflies flutter around my belly, as they know what is coming. If last night was any indication, I should be in for an awesome night.

We drive in silence until I turn and tell him, “I took next week off work for finals.” I don’t know why I tell him this, but my body is on overdrive with excitement about what is to come.

I ramble on about classes and finals, even telling him about the poetry project I’m working on. This nugget of information draws his attention. When he comes to a red light, he turns in his seat.

“Poetry project? Oh I have to hear about this.” He smiles.

“It’s nothing really, just a collection of poems I have been writing the past few weeks. I have to describe how I felt when each poem was written.” My chin tucks into my chest, and I stare at his floorboard, afraid that he will want to delve in deeper.

“Interesting. So how is it going?”

“It’s fine. I have all of my poems done.” I lift my chin to sneak a glance in his direction. He has a wide smile; his cockiness suggests that he thinks he is the main topic of all my poetry.

“So, what are you doing this summer?” he asks, turning down the street where I live.

“Working. I may take one class. What about you?”

“I have a summer internship with my father’s right-hand man.”

“That man you were with at Pesto’s?” I ask, shivering as the wind tunnels through the windows.

“Yep.”

“He gives me the creeps.” I frown.

“He gives everyone the creeps.” He taps his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

We turn in the driveway. Maxine is still not home. I’m glad Trace is here to protect me. We walk up to the front door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when there are no flowers at the doorstep.

I open the door and let him in. The security system beeps, and I punch in the code.

Trace is quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. I look at him and smile. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No. Come here.” He wiggles a finger at me.

I walk towards him in the foyer. The lights are off, so the only illumination is from the moonlight shining through the windows.

He grabs my waist and crashes his lips down to mine. We begin to move in tandem, making our way to the bedroom. I kick the door open, and he clings to me as we tumble to the bed. He begins pulling at my clothes and then stops.