The Layers of His Mask

13. If I Were a Stalker

I have not seen Hannah or Violet in such a long time. Technically speaking, I have seen them when they came to pick me up from Rudy's earlier this week. I have not had a chance to actually sit down and tell them what's been going on with my life. For example: how Alex and I have sort of found mutual ground, or how he turned my not so exciting night into a memorable one the night of the gala. And then there's...the kiss, and the brief lip touch at work. This information is something I know will for sure send Hannah flying out of her seat.

Since the night of the gala Hannah has been all about Alex and I becoming some power couple and throwing around random ship names like: Alecca, Rebeex, and the worst of one them all...Reblex. I hate it because it reminds me of re-flux which then leads my mind to acid re-flux and I can't deal.

Acid re-flux is a b***h.

****

"Yeah, I'm at Publix right now grabbing some snacks and a couple of drinks." I push my cart around the corner to aisle five where all the wine and water is held.

"Is alcohol included in that mix?" She asks.

"Yes Hannah, alcohol is included in that category," I laugh, grabbing a couple bottles of Moscato and 3 cases of wine coolers then head back to aisle five for chips and dip.

"Great, well then I'm in. I'll go call Violet and let her know. She's probably stuck up under her boyfriend right now and I am about to break that up."

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it when you guys come over later. Oh, and don't forget the DVD's, I really need a movie that will allow me to cry on purpose."

"That's...really sad."

"Whatever," I shrug. I throw a couple of bags of lime flavored tortilla chips and two jars of mild salsa into my cart.

"What are you doing, feeding an army of twelve?"

I pause, my hand stuck on a jar of queso dip I have been contemplating to get for the past five minutes. Narrowing my eyes, I turn and stick my tongue out at him. He tilts his head slightly, a smirk growing on his face.

"Um, Hannah...let me call you back."

"Is that him? I heard a man and I know it’s Alex - " I hit the end call button on my headset.

I catch his eyes drift down to my exposed abdomen which I had not realized was showing until I felt a slight breeze brush across it. I quickly reach for the jar of queso dip once more and place it in my cart, tugging my halter top down in the process.

Why does he always have to look so damn hot all the damn time? Why does he always look at me as if I'm the only thing that matters at the moment? And how the hell did he even find me? A coincidence maybe?

It's not normal for someone to look this good in just a plain white t-shirt and basketball shorts. And on top of that he has that whole beard thing going on which drives me insane on every possible level, and it's not good for my heart. Nothing he does is good for my heart really.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

"Well, I'm having a girls night in with my friends, and we eat enough to feed an army of twelve, so I guess you could say yes," I nod.

"Okay, and do you plan on putting yourselves to sleep with all that alcohol?" he asks, pointing to all the different drinks in my cart.

"That's what all the snacks are here for," I mention to him, fanning my hand across the cart, "they are here to help hinder the effects," I triumphantly respond.

"Wow...on that note, I will leave you to your drunken, binge eating adventures. Have fun.”

"Yeah thanks," I mutter to his back. I’m getting really fed up with him walking away from me. Since day one that’s about all he has ever done when in situations like this.

Walking away, I can make out his muttered words, “I can't believe that I like a girl who thinks eating junk is an excuse to consume absurd amounts of alcohol."

Wait, did I just hear him correctly? He likes me? I know this is so totally high school, but to hear those words come from his mouth is just too surreal, especially considering the circumstances.

He stops hardly three steps away, circling back around so that he is now the only thing in my field of view, expression displaying determination. "By the way, do you really think I'm hot? I'm just wondering because I'm really starting to love that your mouth just says everything that I need to hear."

"Oh my God," I groan, placing my palm to my forehead. Forget that he likes me, he heard me call him hot! He’s never going to let me forget that. I look up at him from under my lashes, shaking my head. Although I now have ammo for future reference.

"My hotness is nothing to be ashamed of, I mean look at me..." Oh I’m looking. He sweeps his hand down the length of his torso, arms now wide open, "I'm pretty awesome," He tells me nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. His face is so deadpan that I can’t even tell if I should take him seriously or laugh.

“You are so full of yourself.” I choose to go with laughter.

After those words exit my mouth, my brain decides to take a short detour to the gutter. A smirk pulls at his lips when he notices my face flushing red.

You could be full of him.

No, no I could not.

You could...if you really wanted to.

Shut up.

“I need your number.” he whips out his cellphone and stares up at me, ready to enter it into his phone.

“What? Why?”

“Because, I have all of my employee’ phone numbers. You just have yet to distribute it to me.”

I've been working at Romano’s for about a month now. Why is he just now asking for my phone number? But I guess if it’s for work purposes I could give him my number. But I'll make him work for it first though.

“Don’t you have it from when you hired me? It was on my resume.”

“It is on your resume. I’m not about to go searching through your file for it, then you would be able to classify me as a stalker.”

“If you were a stalker I wouldn't be working for you.” he rolls his eyes.

“If I were a stalker I’d be a pro at it.” He takes a few steps, "I would be the silent, yet sneaky type. I would follow you, track your every move.” his voice is low, raspy now. He inches closer again, continuing. “I’d gain your trust, and you wouldn't even know what I was planning, until it was too late." He's so close now, his familiar scent alone puts me in an almost drunken haze.

When he touches my cheek, I just about explode. When he lowers his mouth to mine, I want to jump him right in this aisle.

My insides are tightening. Clenching my legs together, I try and stop the ache surfacing between them. He pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. His mouth melds with mine and I don't want the magic that is happening with his mouth to end.

He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth before stepping away.

I watch as he grabs my phone from my right pocket, eyes holding mine the entire time. He calls his phone, hangs it up, and returns my phone to my right pants pocket.

I’m currently having an out of body experience. I am aware of everything that just went on, yet my legs won’t move and I can’t form words. Each one that tries to come out ends up being a stuttered version of one.

He jokingly refers to me as stubborn and tells me that he didn't trust that I would willingly give it to him, which I didn't.

"If I would have known making out with you was the key to keeping you quiet, I would have done it a long time ago."

I’m finally able to come to after about ten minutes of him staring at me, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I shake my head, clearing it and instantly reach for my phone. Searching through my call history for the last missed call. I program that number into my phone and save it under the name ‘heart attack’. This nickname seems fitting seeing as the majority of the times that I am in his immediate vicinity there is always one moment when he makes my heart stop with just a few words - a subtle touch, and now kisses have joined that party.

“Have you come back to reality?” he asks me, a cocky smirk displayed on his features.

“Yep,” I answer quickly, nodding heavily. I need to move away from this...whatever this is. "Well...I gotta go. I have to...go clean my car," I tell him. He waves goodbye.

Go clean my car? What a stupid excuse. I flip my cart around, knocking a few items off the bottom shelf. I take in a deep breath, bend down to pick them up and I don't even look back. But as I'm walking towards the register, it clicks in my mind that I unknowingly gave him a full on view of my ass, and I'm not wearing panties.

A few seconds later I receive a text from ‘heart attack’ reading, I advise you to never wear that piece of fabric you call a shirt in public again...or those pants. Also, put on some underwear.

****

"I called that s**t! Ahhh! You freaking kissed him!" Hannah collapses back onto the couch, total bliss coursing through her voice.

I told Hannah and Violet everything: how the cat and mouse game got started, the kiss, the almost kiss, the damn kiss in Publix, him taking my number. She wouldn't stop screaming throughout my entire explanation.

Her screaming is like when you're boiling tea in a kettle on the stove and the steam escapes the spout, but instead of you taking it off to cease the scream like noise, you let it sit over the fire and combust. Shattering into a million pieces. The shattering being her screaming reaching full on banshee.

She leans back up again, a grin making it’s nest on her almost perfect bone structure. "How was it? Are his lips as amazing as they look?"

Violet is just patiently waiting for my answer. Hannah is sitting here literally shaking with excitement.

"It...was actually pretty amazing," I softly tell them, a smile creeping onto my face.

Memories of the gala come flooding back like a tidal wave. One after the other, tiny fragments hit me; Dancing, forgetting the rhythm and just being lost in each others presence. Me closing my eyes, relishing in the moment. Me, bringing his lips back down for more. I was greedy, and he fulfilled that need.

I wish I could feel his lips on mine again, and those hands against my skin. I'm never going to be able to rid him from my system, it's unequivocally not possible at this point.

Violet swivels on the couch to face me. “Awww, babe, you like him,” Violet reveals to me. “Just admit it to yourself. You are both bottling up your feelings, afraid to reveal it to the other person because what...you’re both entirely too stubborn to admit it? You’d rather do this back and forth, around in a circle game with each other when you clearly both want something more out of it.”

I hate it when she gets all jedi-mind-tricky on me. If I go back and look at all our past encounters, him or either I have walked away from numerous opportunities to get to know each other. Okay, mostly me, but whatever. We end up making jokes out of things to avert from what we actually want: each other. As much as I am afraid to admit it, I want to get to know Alex, and I also secretly want him in my bed. Though that can not happen right now, I tend to get attached very easily.

Okay, just ‘where’ did that thought come from?! It’s wrong on so many levels, and you are supposed to be stopping all these...’feelings’ and darn kisses!

But, Alex is everything that I could possibly want in a guy to be totally truthful. He’s funny, smart - sometimes too smart for his own good - responsible, honest, trustworthy. Did I miss anything else? Need I say more?

Nope, I think you hit all the bases here.

I drop my head on the back of the couch. “Did I just have my come to Jesus moment, but with my feelings?” my voice comes across as distant while I continue to rummage through the mess that is my mind.

“You did,” Violet answers, placing a hand on my knee, “but this is progress.” she smiles at me and fills my glass to the rim with wine.

“Now…” she says, placing the bottle back down on the coffee table, “time for tipsy karaoke and this horror movie sucks commentator comedy.”

Tipsy karaoke is always entertaining, performing overly dramatic renditions of classics like: Rich Girl by Hall & Oates or Hold The Line by Toto. Or even modern day songs such as Grow a Pear by Kesha and the infamous Anaconda by Nicki Minaj. Those two songs always end up performed by the end of the night even through our drunken haze.

This horror movie sucks commentator comedy works a little different. We watch horribly written horror movies and act as an outside party member to the movie, reviewing it for the first time.

First horror movie of the night: The Conjuring. We go through the movie and point out all of the mistakes that the people in the movie made that could have made their lives a lot easier had they followed the signs being thrown at them and not done those things.

“Mistake number one-hundred and ten: seeing that your dog is barking outside of your new home and won't even step foot in it,” I comment.

Hannah bursts into laughter and shouts “my turn!” she places her glass down, saying, “mistake number one hundred and eleven: waking up to your dog dead on your doorstep and choosing to remain in the house.” I clutch my stomach from the pain that this laughter is causing me. Signaling to Violet with a wave of my hand, I tell her to go next.

“Mistake number four hundred and fifty-two: playing hide and clap with your daughter while blindfolded.” I couldn't take anymore after this one, I had tears spewing from my eyes.

Now that was one of the dumbest mistakes I had ever seen. You hear random noises in your house, notice weird activity, yet you still choose to stay in it and cover your eyes while trying to find someone by the sounds of their claps? Dumb.

****

We are just in the thick of the movie when my doorbells rings. I mute the television, turn on the light next to the couch. I guess we are scared after all, this movie has officially made me paranoid.

Who the hell is at my door at twelve-thirty at night anyway? I bring Hannah with me to the door, the girl has a mean right hook and I could use her for protection - human shield, and weapon.

Opening the door, a disheveled Alex is supporting himself against the door-frame. One hand planted on the frame, head cast downward, the smell of alcohol is drifting off of him, invading my nostrils. It takes him a minute to process that the door is in fact open, and when the realization hits him, his head lifts up and his glossy, red eyes meet mine. His face lights up.

“Alex, what are you doing here? It’s almost one o'clock in the morning.” As surprised as I am to see him, I am more concerned about his reason for being here more than his actual being here.

"Rebecca Anne Daniels," he slurs, "did you know it took me exactly fifteen minutes to reach your apartment?"

"Uh, no...I didn't know that. Did you drive here?!" He approaches me and I take a step backward. Hannah stands her ground, making herself the barrier between us. "Alex?" I coax. His eyes land on Hannah briefly, then back to me, keeping them there.

I raise a brow and tilt my head at her. She understands the silent plea in my eyes and walks inside. I take a step towards him. "Alex, what's wrong?"

Partially diverting my question he starts with, "I didn't drive here, I promise," Alex blurts out seconds later, eyes now looking frantic, voice shaky. "I called a taxi and had them bring me here, he's still waiting out front for me. I was gonna call, but I couldn't find my phone.” he runs a hand over his already messy hair then he begins pacing the small area in front of my door. “I came here to tell you something and now I can't even remember what the hell I came here for. I think I'm going crazy, Becca." He called me Becca. For the first time since I've met him, he didn't use my given birth name. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, like I'm slowly losing control of my life and I don't like it, and I don't know how to stop it." I take a step toward him. "Please help me stop it. I can't...I..." with his voice cracking, head now hung low. I close the gap between us the instant he tries to speak again. His hands hang at his sides like dead weight.

I wrap my arms around him, he weakly sinks down to the floor, body jerking from his tears in my arms. I try and take on some of his weight so he doesn't completely collapse to the floor.

He starts full on sobbing into my chest, tears staining my purple shirt. "It's okay," I whisper, softly stroking the top of his hair, my free arm resting across his back. "It's okay," I reassure him. The sobs become softer, until they stop altogether.

I'm not entirely sure how much time has passed since we've been sitting like this. Twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? I don't know, but my ass is getting numb.

There's a soft breeze blowing up the staircase and it's cooling down the heat that's suddenly rushing up to my body from being in such close proximity with him for a prolonged period of time.

Alex has been extremely quiet, but every so often he'll grab my hand - squeezing it - to indicate to me that he's awake and hasn't passed out. He lifts himself upright after a few more minutes and rests his head back against the wall.

He's here with me physically, but his mind is somewhere else entirely. “Do you wanna talk about it?” I offer. He keeps his eyes ahead when he answers.

****

Alex’s POV

Why did I drink so damn much last night? I’m not usually one to drink away my problems, however this occasion called for it. I pop a few Advil and down them with some water, heading back to my room to finish packing.

Hearing that your father has about a month and a half to live and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it just makes me want to break everything my eyes land on in this empty apartment.

I haven’t slept in my actual bed in days. I've been sleeping at my parents place - in my old bedroom - since my mother informed me that my dad had elected to be put on hospice. I can’t be here alone right now. I don’t trust myself and it only makes my anxiety and anger worse. The main reason I even came back here was to grab a couple of things - mainly more clothes.

This has been the longest week of my life. It’s hard enough to know that you’re father is sick, but when you hear him say “I no longer want to continue chemotherapy,” it makes you rethink your priorities.

Work has been acting as my distraction from it all, that is until I get back to my parents place and the anxiety and stress completely overtake me.

I place a few outfits in my bag, zipping it up.

My phone goes off in my pocket and I look at my messages, it’s a text from Becca. It reads, I hope you are feeling okay, I can’t imagine what you are going through right now. If you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.

I return her text with, Thanks. I’m sorry for my drunken behavior last night. The worst part of it all is realizing that I remember everything and the alcohol did nothing to help me.

You have nothing to apologize for, everyone needs a shoulder to cry on at some point. But the drinking, I know that feeling oh too well, she responds.

You helped though.

I did?

Yes.

:) glad I could help. I was just checking to make sure you are okay. Hannah’s dragging to Ikea, she says I need new furniture, so I’ll message you back later.

I hate Ikea.

That makes two of us.

****

“Mother?” I call through the teal and brown painted hallway when I enter the door.

“In the living-room Alex!” she shouts back. I hoist my dufflebag over my shoulder and saunter to the living room where my father is sitting in the recliner watching people hit at balls with metal sticks. I've never seen the point in golf, it's f*****g boring.

"Dad, why do you watch this stuff? I honestly think you only watch golf to see if Tiger Woods is, gonna win or lose."

"You're too smart, you know that? I have to know if he gains back his mojo." He smiles at me and changes the channel, seeing the score is not satisfactory for him.

I give my mother a kiss on the cheek before sitting down on the red, plush sofa, placing my bag on the floor beside me.

"Alex!" I hear my sister Anna scream from the kitchen behind me. Though it was more of a shrill coming from her lips. "How are you doing? Long time no see big bro." She hugs me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"What's up sis? I thought you weren't gonna be here until tomorrow?" She walks around the sofa and plops down between our mother and me.

"I got in early this morning while you were gone. I told them to stay quiet so I can surprise you." She grins, bearing all her teeth. How can she be so happy at a time like this?

"I'm definitely surprised. Where's Aaron?" She tells me that he’s at the grocery store collecting a few things to cook for dinner. He swears up and down that he will be able to out-cook me one day. That will never happen.

My phone vibrates in my lap. I receive a text, this time a picture message from Becca. I download the picture and open it, being presented with Becca sitting Indian style on an enormous pink bed. Her head is turned to the side, one hand on her hip and the other fanned out to the right. She's looking down at a blonde and purple haired woman who is bent over the bed, kissing her hand. The caption at the bottom reads, a bed fit for a queen.

I cover my mouth to hide my smirk. I send her a quick text back saying, pink is a horrendous color, try again.

Five minutes later another picture from her comes through. She took a picture of herself lying down on a red, gold and silver decorated duvet cover, her mouth wide open, tongue sticking out, eyes wide with amusement.

Red is more her color.

I quickly text her back with, that color is better suited on you.

Not even a second later she replies back with, you have great taste! Red it is. She inserted a thumbs up emoticon at the end.

“Who are you texting? I have not seen you this invested in a text conversation since high school,” Anna asks, peeking over my shoulder.

I return my phone to it’s rightful place in my pocket and tell her, “no one.”

“You’re lying,” she calls my bluff. “Let me see.”

“No.”

“Come on,” she begs, scooting closer to me, “I promise not to judge.”

“Give it a rest.”

"No. Let me see!" She begins wrestling me on the sofa, shoving her hand in my face while reaching for my pocket. I nip at her fingers and she yelps. My mother yells for us to stop and my father laughs. It's nice to see a smile on his face, and to hear his booming laugh.

"Get off of me!" I grunt, pushing at her shoulder.

"No!" Anna somehow gets a hold of my phone from my pocket and runs to the other side of the room, scrolling through my text messages. Dammit. "Wow, she's very pretty, and funny too. Where did you meet her?" She continues scrolling.

"In a bathroom stall, now give me my phone." I open my palm to her.

"Liar," she laughs. "Mom, dad? Alex has a girlfriend that I need to meet. And she's really pretty and from what I have read, very respectful."

"What's her name?" My father asks me. I can’t lie to him, he's the last person I want to lie to.

"It's Becca. I assume it's short for Rebecca," Anna answers for me, eyes still trained on the screen of my phone. I rush up to her, snatching the phone from her hands.

"Stay the hell out of my s**t," I demand to her face. She smiles and returns to her seat next to my mother while I have now been made the damn center of attention.

"Alexander Rhys Brooks, watch your language," my mother warns. I hate my government name, it sounds even more unappealing when said out loud.

"Yes mother. And to clarify this whole thing, she is not my girlfriend. We haven't even been on a date yet."

"Ooh, when's the first date?" Anna attempts once more to coax information from me.

"The minute you get a life," I counter back. I catch my father snicker then cough to play it off.

“Dad!” Anna complains, arms crossed over her chest while she stares at him. Crisis averted.

"Matthew our children have truly lost it," my mother teases. She walks over and kisses his cheek.

He smiles up at her and says, "yes, but they bring me so much joy." Anna and I stop our bickering for the day.

"So when is the first date?" My father questions.

"Dad..."

"I'm serious Alex. You are not about to sit in this house everyday and watch me day in and day out. Only perverts do that."

"Alright, alright. Enough. I'll let you know when it happens."

The thought of going on a date with Becca never even crossed my mind until Anna put it in here. Thanks to her it will be the only thing on my mind until it actually happens.

What the hell would we do anyway? f*****g make smores and roast them over an open campfire? I've been out of the dating game way too long, I loathe that I am even thinking about it.

This f*****g makes no sense that the only person I can even think of going to about this sort of thing is the master manipulator himself: Tom. He may act like a total douche at times, but he can plan a damn date. Even though his only objective that night would be getting her in his bed.

Isn't that your objective, too?

What -?!

If not, why loathe the idea of dating Rebecca, or ‘Becca’ as you've started to call her lately?

I don’t ‘want’ to date anyone. Let alone, ‘Rebecca’.

Then… why d’you kiss her… Every. Damn. Time…

“Hello? Earth to Chef Brooks??”

My sister’s voice brings me back to reality. Damn, I zoned off. After talking about possibly dating Rebecca. In front of my family. Who are smirking amusedly at me, now.

“What?” I snap.

“Plan your date later. Now, just focus on making us dinner,” Anna mocks.

My parents laugh as I hit her with a pillow on the couch and the bickering starts again. All the while, my mind occupied with something else entirely..

Something to do with answering my own question..

Why… Why did I kiss Rebecca… Why do I ‘want’ to every second each day…? Kissing her is the only thing on my mind recently, and I’m greedy for excuses to do so. But to answer my own f*****g question…

I have no idea why...