by Jacob Chance
“Lana I...”
I end the call before she can finish what she’s saying.
You’d think she would figure out every time she brings up the possibility of me dating, I hang up. Why does it matter to her so much anyway?
I’m not ready to date anyone. I’m still trying to get over my ex-boyfriend, Christopher.
3
Zack
Early December
“Here, let me get that for you.” I hold the door for Lana and when she walks past, I lean forward, breathing in her scent and then follow. Once we’re inside the lobby of the building she pauses.
“Thank you. I was wondering how I was going to manage unlocking the door with all this.” She gestures with her chin at the two paper bags of groceries in her arms.
“I’m Zachary, but you can call me Zack, I just moved into the vacant apartment on the second floor.”
She smiles at me and my heart pounds.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Zack. I’m Lana, and apparently, we’re neighbors. You’ve moved into the unit right next to mine.”
I grin at her. I already know your name precious girl.
I’ve never been this close to her before. My obsession with her began six weeks ago, when I followed her friend Kenna McKenzie to Quake one night. I was set in my plan to make her older brother Kyle pay for his hand in my father’s death by stalking her. Things didn’t go as I intended.
From the first glimpse of Lana, the gorgeous redhead, I went from being consumed with revenge to consumed by lust.
All night I watched her, instead of watching Kenna like I originally planned.
Watched the way she threw her head back when she laughed, her long red hair tumbling past her shoulders.
Watched her tongue make a slow trek around the rim of her margarita glass, licking up the salt.
Watched her hips sensually sway to the slow music and grind to the pounding beat.
I watched her all night long; watched her be oblivious to me and I promised myself it wouldn’t be long before we would meet.
Lana – even her name is sexy.
Something about her is different – something I don’t understand. My reaction to her is something that’s never happened to me before.
I’ve been enamored with her for weeks now.
I’ve been in her apartment numerous times, eaten her food and imagined what it would be like to be with her.
I must have her. I have to possess her. I need to own her; until the ultimate goal is reached. Until my end game becomes a reality…
I’m going to make her fall in love with me.
Watching her every move from afar is exciting, but nothing compares to being close enough to smell the exotic scent of her perfume. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.
Why does she affect me like this?
“It’s great to meet you, Lana. Let me carry those for you.” I take one bag from her and she hands me the other without any objection.
Good girl.
I like her obedience.
My eyes meet her large green ones. I wonder if she finds me attractive. Most women do.
I hope she does.
Her skin is so fair the tiny freckles on her straight nose and along the apples of her cheeks look like cinnamon sprinkled all over.
My mouth waters. I want to taste each one. I wonder what she’d taste like?
Would she be spicy or sweet?
I can’t wait to find out.
I need to know.
I follow her up the turn of the century curved staircase, my eyes entranced with her petite frame in front of me.
Her legs are long and lean in her skin tight blue jeans and make a nice ass of themselves.
She’s wearing a light pink hoodie and her red hair is fastened on top of her head in a messy bun.
The nape of her neck is exposed, tempting me, calling out for my lips to press against the soft skin - for my tongue to caress the graceful length - for my teeth to bite the curve where it merges into her shoulder.
Her step is light as she leisurely jogs up the stairs. She waits when she reaches the top step, and we remain next to each other all the way down the wide carpeted hallway. I imagine we’re a couple, coming home from grocery shopping and getting ready to prepare a gourmet dinner.
Soon we’ll be doing everything together.
She pushes her key in the lock on the handle and turns the knob at the same time. The hinges creak as the thick wooden door opens wide for me to pass through.
The moment I take my first step inside her space, I feel a sense of homecoming. I’ve been in her apartment countless times when she hasn’t been home. I’m an expert at lock picking and hers wasn’t even a challenge for me.
I follow her to the kitchen and place her bags on the granite counter.
“Have a seat. Let me get you a drink. Do you want a beer or would you prefer spring water?”
“What kind of beer do you have?” Heineken.
“Heineken,” she answers and I smile. I already know all about my girl. “Does that work for you?” She peers over her shoulder at me when she pulls open the fridge.
“Yeah, it’s great. It’s my favorite kind, actually.” I drum my fingers on the wooden table, thumb, index, middle, ring, pinky, and repeat over and over. I count along with the motion, one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five. As I recite the numbers in my head I can feel myself relaxing.
Being here is almost too much for me to handle. I wasn’t expecting to be in her apartment with her so soon. I thought it would be a few days before I even got to introduce myself, and now I’m ahead of schedule. It makes me uneasy. I don’t like to deviate from my game plan. Lana’s the first person who’s ever made me break from the planned course of action.
“This is my favorite beer, too.” She places the two green bottles on the counter, and rifles through the drawer where her bottle opener is. Her scissors, Swiss Army knife, corkscrew, and an impressive multi-tool are also in there.
“My brother used to make me drink Heineken with him when I wasn’t even legal yet.” She pops the caps off and drops it back in the drawer, pushing it shut with her hip. She clasps her hands around the two bottles and closes the distance between us.
When she pulls out the end chair and sits down to my left, my heart begins to fiercely pound. What is this effect she has on me, and how am I going to learn to cope with it?
I really have no choice in the matter. I know what I want - her. And I plan on having every single inch of her - body, mind and soul.
She’ll be mine. Failure is not an option.
“Are you from around here?” she asks before tipping her beer back for a small sip.
I take a pull from my own bottle and recite the back story I’ve created and rehearsed. After I attempted to kill Kyle, Anthony and his mob friends provided a body that was found near Janny’s apartment building. The palms that needed to be were greased and the case was closed.
I still went ahead and changed my identity. Fortunately for me, I know the right people and with the right amount of money anything I want can be achieved. Keeping the first name Zack was my one stipulation. I need to hear her scream my real name out when I make her come harder than she ever has.
“I’m from the western part of the state, out by Amherst. It’s like another world compared to here.” She’s attentive to what I’m saying and that pleases me.
She pleases me.
“What about you? Where did you grow up?” Seattle. It’s amazing what you can find out about someone on the internet.
“I lived in Seattle my whole life until I moved here about six months past.” She pushes her long bangs to the side.
“What made you move all the way across the country?”
She looks down at the table and rakes her teeth over the outer corner of her bottom lip. The way it twists her mouth would look silly on anyone else, but somehow, it’s adorable when she does it.
Her eyes raise, flicking
to mine before dropping again. “I needed a change.”
I know there’s more to her story than she’s saying. So far, I haven’t been able to figure out what motivated her to move here, but I know it’s only a matter of time before she’ll confide in me.
“What do you do for work, Zack?” She studies my face, waiting for my answer.
I can’t tell her I used to work in advertising. Knowing, would be a clue about who I really am.
She can’t know, at least not yet.
“I used to work in finance before I moved here. I was paid well, and I also have good instincts for knowing what investments are a sure thing. I bought and sold stocks and made a large enough profit where I don’t need to work anymore.” That part is true. I played the stock market with great success. My money is hidden away and totally untraceable.
Her eyes widen.
“I’m sure I’ll find something to fall into now that I’m settling here. I don’t know if I can handle not having a place to be every day. Everyone needs a purpose.”
I shift in the chair and slowly begin to peel the label off the beer bottle. I take my time, slow and methodical, working to remove it in one long piece.
I wish I could tell Lana she’s my new purpose, but she’s not ready to hear it yet. All in good time.
Soon there will be no secrets between us.
4
Lana
I study him as he looks down, carefully peeling the label off the beer bottle in his hand. His nose is lean and straight and his eyelashes are dark brown and thick. His eyebrows are hidden by the shaggy dark brown hair falling across his forehead. His jaw is covered by a thick beard, in need of a trim.
“What’s your last name, Zack? Mine is Edwards.”
His eyes flick up at me and the light blue color makes me lose my train of thought for a moment.
“Williams.” His focus returns to the label as he tediously pulls it off, still managing to keep it intact.
He flashes me a glowing, triumphant smile when the paper is completely free of the bottle. Straight, white teeth contrast against the darkness of his beard.
“Patience pays off,” he says with a wink.
“Are you a patient person?” I ask, wanting to know more about this handsome man sitting in my kitchen.
He locks his eyes on mine and a shiver runs down my spine.
I’m not sure if it’s from the attraction I feel for him or from the fear that attraction instills in me. I don’t want to be drawn to him or any man.
He rubs his hand over his beard and nods his head. “I am. I’m willing to wait for what I want.” He leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table. “When I want something,” his eyes drop to my lips as he pauses, before raising back up to mine, “I don’t let anything stop me from getting it.”
I chew on my bottom lip, at a loss for what to do or say. It almost seems as if he’s warning me.
Is he attracted to me?
No, he can’t be. Guys like him aren’t attracted to girls like me. He’s the cool, suave, sexy type, and I’m nerdy and awkward. I still look like I’m too young to legally buy alcohol.
He tips back his bottle, drinks the final swallow down and places it on the table. “I need to get going. I still have a lot of unpacking to do.” Pushing his chair back, he stands, looming over me.
Jumping up from my seat, I collect the two bottles from the table and throw them in the recycling bin next to the pantry.
Following behind him, I try not to notice the width of his shoulders in his navy blue henley, but they’re right there in front of me and hard to resist looking at.
“It was nice meeting you, Lana. I hope we get to see a lot more of each other.” His voice is a deep husk and it has my body responding in ways I don’t want it to.
“Thanks for carrying my bags for me. I’m glad I have a gentleman living next to me now. My old neighbors weren’t so thoughtful.” The college aged girls used to blare music and slam doors at all hours of the day or night.
He takes my hand, raises it to his lips and gently kisses the back of it. His beard is soft against my skin, and it makes me wonder if it would feel the same against my lips.
“Until we meet again.” He releases my hand and flashes me a playful grin before walking out my door.
I stare at the dark wood and release a large sigh.
Zack Williams is trouble with a capital T. I can feel it already and as much as I want to experience his brand of trouble, I can’t let myself go there.
I moved here for a fresh start, not to repeat the mistakes of my past.
Two days later
Monday rolls around without any visits from Zack and no bumping into each other in the hallway. I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time, but I know which emotion I should be feeling. I’m going to have to work on keeping my walls up around him.
There’s something attractive about Zack and it’s not just his gorgeous appearance. He’s comfortable in his own skin, and being with him didn’t feel awkward at all. He made me feel at ease and he was fun to be around.
There’s only one other person who’s ever had this effect on me.
Look how that worked out for you.
It’s been over a year and I’m still not ready to move on. I don’t think I ever will be.
I still miss him every single day.
This coming Friday is his birthday, his twenty ninth.
I place my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my desk and allow myself the brief indulgence of thinking about him. Christopher. How did things go so wrong?
Finding a money trail is easier than most would probably think. Well, easier for me anyway. I may not have been blessed with all the female assets I’d like, but I do have a genius I.Q.
By the age of eighteen I had a Bachelor’s degree in computer science at the University of Washington. A year later a Master’s Degree.
Following the money trail is like a game for me. It gives me a rush to see how fast I can trace the missing funds and beat my personal best.
Every job time is logged in my head, not on paper.
My brain is like some freaky vault for numbers and details. Like a female Rain Man.
It’s a blessing and a curse. It comes in handy for work, but when I was a kid I hated it. I always felt different than my classmates, and my success in school set me apart.
I skipped multiple grades which made it hard for me to make friends and keep them.
Not only was I much younger than my classmates, I was small for my age. My tiny stature only made the age gap between me and my classmates more noticeable.
It’s not easy being a freshman in high school at age eleven, especially when you look like you’re only nine.
Being painfully shy and horribly awkward didn’t help my situation any. I hardly spoke, and lunch period was the worst one of them all. I couldn’t handle knowing everyone’s eyes watched me as I sat by myself at the back-corner table, alone like a social pariah. After the first week of school, I ended up eating my lunch in the library each day.
Beginning college at age fifteen wasn’t any better. I tried to blend in to my surroundings and in the lecture halls, but the professors liked to call on me and get my input during discussions.
I loved learning and academia itself; but the other students were cruel and mean to me. I was called names, whispered about in every class and even got bullied on social media.
It wasn’t until a few years ago, when I was twenty years old and working on my Ph.D., that things started to look up for me, socially speaking.
My brother Sean’s best friend, Christopher, who I’d never met, worked at Techdeck, a leading company for cybersecurity. He mentioned they were looking for interns to my brother and I applied. They were so impressed with my background, they offered me a job in addition to the internship. Techdeck agreed to work around my schooling until I finished, and the offer was too good for me to turn down.
Three years ago
First tim
e job interview nerves have my stomach in knots as I walk up to the large glass doors at the front of the building.
It’s raining again, which is no surprise in Seattle.
When I pause to close my umbrella, a huge gust of wind hits, turning it inside out. Shit.
Rain pelts down on me, while I try to get the damn umbrella to cooperate; but it won’t budge.
“Need some help, darling?” a deep voice asks, and in my periphery, I notice a tall man beside me.
“No, thank you. I can do it.”
Stubborn to the end, I’m determined to win this battle.
“Here, let me help you.” A large tan hand snatches the stubborn object right out of my grasp, and by the time I turn my head to figure out who it belongs to, he’s handing back my closed umbrella.
“Thank you,” I murmur, taking it and glancing up to see who this helpful stranger is. He’s wearing a zippered sweatshirt and the hood is pulled up over his head. I can’t see his face clearly, just the flash of the very white, attractive smile he gives me before he speaks again.
“Let’s get you inside, darling. You’re getting all wet.”
I snap into action at his words and reach for the door handle, but he beats me to it and his masculine hand closes around the metal in front of me. I notice the tattoos peeking out of his long sleeve but can’t get a close enough look to make out what they are. He must be a bad boy if he has tattoos where everyone can see them. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to him.
Opening the door, he holds it for me to walk through. I’m surprised when he steps through behind me. He doesn’t look like anyone who should be working in a place like Techdeck.
I pause to straighten out my wet shirt, thankful I went with the emerald green and not the white one I was originally thinking of wearing.
When I sweep my hand over my drenched hair, I’m relieved I decided on a ponytail. At least it’s a contained, wet mess and not dripping all over my face.
Visibly shaking, my hands are difficult to control when I run my fingertips under each eye to check for smearing makeup. Thanks to waterproof mascara, they come away clean.
