Finals week is a madhouse of non-stop school and studying. I love to watch Vanessa read—so sexy. I have been busy following Jordan from class to class and then back to his house while Vanessa is in school. Now, don’t get me wrong: I have finals this week, too. But my main priority is Vanessa’s safety. Therefore, I have been going to class, rushing through my tests, and then leaving as quickly as I enter.

Vanessa has been staying with me through the week. We have settled into a nice little routine, and I enjoy having her around. I like taking care of her. She hasn’t received any more letters; I did find one on my windshield after taking a test one day, though. I didn’t tell her about it yet; I don’t want to distract her from her studies. The note said the same thing it always does: leave her alone. Like hell I’ll leave her alone.

Waiting for Vanessa to get out of her last class of the week, I watch Jordan cross the parking lot. He is on the phone, and I want to march over there and figure him out. He’s in a hurry as he rushes to his truck.

Just then, Vanessa opens my car door and startles me.

“Hey there, sexy,” she says, sliding her sweet ass into the seat.

“Hey, buckle up. I have a hunch. We’re gonna follow Jordan.” I start the engine and head out of the parking lot in search of his red truck.

“But I thought we ruled him out. He had no marks on his wrist,” she says, buckling her seatbelt.

“There is something I don’t trust about him. Has he ever told you anything about himself? Like where he is from or anything?”

She closes her eyes as I race down the road in search of the red pickup. I see it turning left just up ahead and press the accelerator.

“Nothing really. Just that he lives somewhere in West Palm Beach. I’ve never been to his apartment—he’s always been very secretive about where he lives. Embarrassed, perhaps.”

“Oh, well I know where he lives.”

“What are you thinking, Trace?”

“Nothing quite yet.” My head is spinning, wondering if Jordan and Eric know each other. Has Jordan always lived in South Florida?

“Oh,” she says, glancing out the window. I’m behind Jordan but not too close, as I follow his truck down the road. Knowing where he lives lets me hang back a bit so as not to be seen.

“Does he live with anyone? Roommate? Parents?”

“Just his cousin, who he says is an ass.” She glances at the passing scenery and turns in her seat to face me. “Do you think Eric is related to Jordan?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible.”

“No way. There is no way they are related.” She laughs.

“How did you two meet?”

“In class,” she answers, focusing her attention out the window.

“Has he always lived in Florida?” I ask.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammers, looking toward Jordan’s vehicle as he pulls into a parking spot. When we arrive at the apartment complex, Vanessa’s eyes widen.

We park a few buildings away, just close enough to watch him. A guy stands next to Jordan’s truck as if he was expecting him. I hear Vanessa gasp next to me. “Eric?” I ask, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Her whole body stiffens, and beads of sweat glisten her forehead. She nods her head, never moving her eyes from him. He is tall but lanky, like Jordan. His arms swing low at his sides, and, even though he is far away, I can tell he looks mean.

I rest my hand on her shoulder, and she shivers.

“Hey, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore,” I say, massaging my fingers into her shoulder.

She turns in her seat to face me, and I stare into her shimmery eyes that are coated in unshed tears.

“I don’t know. Something isn’t right,” she says, shaking her head as she puts her hand over her eyes.

“Okay, well, Eric is here. Jordan just happens to be your best friend. I don’t buy it, either. Let me ask you something. Why were you upset with Jordan on the night of the party where we met?”

She takes a deep breath as we watch Eric and Jordan enter their apartment.

“Jordan was telling me to move back to Ohio. He said I was stupid for moving so far away from my parents, that I was stupid for being here. He wanted me to quit school and leave.”

“I think maybe he was trying to protect you. As much as I hate the kid, he cares about you. Maybe it’s part of why he has been following you,” I say, grabbing a flyaway piece of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. God, she is so pretty.

“I guess. I just remember being so mad at him at the party because he wouldn’t let up.” She tucks her head lower, and I grab her chin, raising her eyes to meet mine. I caress her lips and kiss her with everything she makes me feel. I haven’t had these feelings in so long. Or ever.

“Okay, you stay here. I’m gonna go and talk to this fucker.” I lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t I go?” she asks, reaching for my hand.

“No way am I letting you near that creep. I’d feel better if you stayed here.”

“Wow, how noble of you, but what can he do? I want to go.”

Releasing her hold from my arm, I look at her pouty lips and brush my lips on them, to taste her again.

“Vanessa, please,” I beg.

“No, I’m coming. I’m not some weak little girl who you have to shelter. Besides, in broad daylight with people everywhere, he’d be stupid to try anything.”

Defeated, I shrug my shoulders. “Okay, but let me do the talking.”

She agrees, and we exit the car.

We move as if in slow motion; our walk to the front door seems to take a lifetime. Relax, I tell myself. Relax. But my mounting frustration causes my thoughts to blank.

I glance at Vanessa. She knocks on the door with one loud thud. The door opens, and Jordan stands there with his mouth open and eyes twitching. His cheeks redden, and his feet dance from side to side.

“Trace, Vanessa,” he stutters, blocking the door. His eyes bounce between us as I clear my throat.

“Hi, Jordan,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. The sun is hot on our backs, and Jordan looks as if someone’s about to tell him the world is ending. For him, maybe it is.

“Where’s Eric?” I ask, cramming my fists in my pockets.

Jordan’s eyes widen. “Who? What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, we know he’s here. Tell him to get out here,” I say, adjusting my shirt.

Jordan moves away from the door as it opens wider. Eric comes walking through and scowls at us.

“What the hell?” He steps past Jordan.

“What the hell is right,” I say, sizing him up. He is an inch taller but has the body of a ten-year-old boy. Gangly limbs and not an ounce of muscle.

The sun grows hotter, and, as if I’m in an old western movie about to duel in the middle of town, I stick out my chest.

Vanessa moves behind me as Eric and I stand toe to toe.

“We know about the notes and the stalking. We want it to stop or I’ll beat the ever-living shit outta you,” I say.

Jordan bobs up and down behind Eric, trying to get a glimpse of the action about to go down on the front doorstep. Eric wears his thin, white, wife-beater tank top and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” He laughs, glancing past me to catch Vanessa’s eyes. “Is that so?”

“Just please leave me alone, Eric,” she says.

“Or what?” He leans on the doorframe, and my frustration grows.

“Not very smart, this one,” I say, turning to Vanessa and jabbing a finger in his direction. “I just said, or I’ll kick the ever living shit outta you.” I draw out each word so he doesn’t get lost in any big words.

“Fuck off. This is between me and her.” He points in Vanessa’s direction, and my face turns a bright shade of crimson.

I raise my voice. “She said: leave her alone. Do you want me to explain it further for you, big guy?”

Jordan pushes his way out and bounces around. “Eric, maybe you should just leave her alone,” he says, stepping past me to reach Vanessa. He apologizes as he explains himself.

“No one tells me what to do. Vanessa, can we talk?” Eric asks, uncrossing his arms.

“Fuck no, you can’t talk to her!” I bark.

“There is nothing to say anymore, Eric. It’s over,” she adds.

“Jordan, can you take Vanessa to my car?” I ask, turning around to give him a half-smile. He has the look of pure fear in his eyes, like a dog that has taken one too many beatings.

Jordan and Vanessa head back to the parking lot. I turn back around and see Eric still standing there, watching them walk away.

This guy is a complete idiot. I have turned my back twice, and he still hasn’t thrown that surprise punch I’m anticipating.

I shake my head and chuckle at the thought. He’s a real pussy who would rather hit women than fight. I look at him like the piece of shit he is as he huffs out a breath.

“So, what? You think roughing her up will send her running into your arms?” I laugh.

This guy is pathetic, not a threat to me.

“Fuck off before I leave you lying in a pile of your own blood.” He balls his hands into fists.

The comment makes my jaw clench together hard. I try to remain calm, cool, and collected.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave her alone?” I say, shaking my head.

“Leave her alone? We belong together. She loves me,” he says, rubbing his jaw.

Is this guy fucking delusional? Should I just hit him and be done with it?

I debate my options as I stare at him. He’s a complete bumbling moron. My hands rest at my sides, but I keep flexing them into a fist and then releasing them. I want nothing more right now than to punch him.

“Uh, she doesn’t, and you’re a fucking lunatic.” I try to goad him into throwing a punch my way so I can unleash my fury on him, but this guy isn’t taking the bait.

“She will,” he says in a whiney voice.

I become bored with his antics and try to plot out my next step.

“Look, leave her the fuck alone. We already have police reports on everything,” I say, poking a finger in his chest.

“Don’t touch me!” he yells.

Ahh, here we go. The punch is coming. I know it. I lock my feet in place and bend my knees as I wait.

“Or what?” I ask, egging him on.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I smile.

“You want me to hit you. But let me tell you this, when I come for you, you won’t even know it’s coming.”

“Oh, is that a threat?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Yeah, it’s a threat.”

“Aww, you don’t know me very well then. I don’t take threats,” I say in my most cocky voice. Mockery and shenanigans can only go on for so long, but I feel as though we are going in circles calling duck, duck, goose. I know I’ll be the one calling “goose” and ending this shit soon. I’m over his absurdity.

“Fuck you.” He smirks, and my anger reaches its breaking point.

“Fuck me? Stay away from Vanessa.” I inch closer to him as he backs down.

“Or what?”

“Again? You want me to tell you again? I’m calling the police.” I yank my phone from my pocket as Eric stiffens.

“I haven’t done anything wrong. A few notes. And I didn’t mean to ruin her room,” he says.

“A few notes, sure. And the bathroom?”

“What?” He scratches his hand along his neck. I feel like his nose is begging me to punch it. I look at his protruding jaw and picture myself doing just that: punching him. God, it would feel so good to lay this fucker out.