Loving A Moretti - THE OBSESSION

Chapter THIRTEEN

The next morning, I told myself I wasn’t going to look for Larkin.

That lasted until lunch.

I spent most of the morning pretending the message from the unknown number hadn’t bothered me. I answered emails, cleaned the kitchen, started a load of laundry, and even reorganized the drawer where I kept batteries and chargers because apparently that was what my life had become. None of it worked. Every time my phone lit up, my eyes went to it. And when it stayed quiet, I wondered whether that was better or worse.

The message was still sitting in my screenshots.

You shouldn’t be looking for him.

I had no idea what the stalker thought I was doing. I hadn’t searched for Larkin. I hadn’t contacted him. I hadn’t even known his last name until the app suggested his profile to me.

Unless the suggestion itself wasn’t random. I stopped that thought before it could go anywhere.

By noon, I was hungry enough to stop caring.

I left my apartment without telling Jennie or Dean where I was going. I knew they’d ask. Jennie would probably call it irresponsible, Dean would probably say I should at least send an address, and I’d end up irritated at both of them for being right.

So I went to the bookstore.

Not the one where I’d first seen Larkin. The smaller used bookstore where we’d actually met.

I told myself I wanted a book.

That was technically true.

I just happened to walk straight toward the back aisle where I’d found him the last time.

He wasn’t there, but I slowed anyway, running my fingers along the spines without really reading any of the titles. The store smelled like old paper and the coffee someone had brought behind the counter. A woman near the front was arguing with the cashier about whether a book had been marked down correctly.

I picked up a paperback, turned it over, and put it back.

“Looking for something?”

I nearly dropped the next book.

I turned around.

Larkin stood at the end of the aisle with one hand tucked into his jacket pocket.

For half a second, neither of us moved.

Then his eyes flicked toward the book in my hand. “You’re going to make me think you planned that.”

I looked down at the paperback. “I was here first.”

His mouth twitched. “That’s becoming your favorite argument.”

“It keeps working.”

He stepped closer, and I noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. Not enough to make him look tired, exactly, but enough that I wondered if he’d slept badly.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, then shook my head because lying suddenly seemed more difficult than it usually was.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re going to ask me annoying questions.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t know I had that reputation.”

“You asked where I lived.”

“And then I stopped when you didn’t want to answer.” He looked at me for a moment, and something in his expression changed. Not dramatically. Just enough that his attention settled more completely on me.

“Is the stalker bothering you again?”

I hadn’t expected him to ask so quickly.

I put the book back on the shelf. “Someone sent me another message.”

His jaw tightened.

“What did it say?”

I hesitated, then pulled out my phone. “You shouldn’t be looking for him.”

Larkin read the screen.

His face didn’t change much, but his fingers curled once inside his pocket. “You weren’t looking for him?”

I looked up. “Apparently I was.”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“I don’t know how he would even know that,” I said.

“Neither do I.”

There was something strange about hearing him say it. He sounded genuinely angry, but he didn’t try to take my phone or ask who I had been talking to. He just looked at the message again and then back at me.

“Did you tell the police?”

“Not yet.”

Larkin’s expression tightened. “You should.”

His eyes dropping briefly to the phone in my hand before returning to mine.

The cashier called something to the woman at the front, and their conversation picked up again. Larkin glanced toward the sound before looking back at me.

“Do you want to leave?”

The question caught me off guard. “Why?”

“Because you look like you want to.”

I looked toward the front door. I hadn’t even realized I’d been watching it.

“Maybe.”

He stepped aside, leaving enough space for me to walk past him.

I didn’t.

Instead, I slipped my phone into my bag. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

His expression went blank for a second. “No.”

“Good.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Good?”

“I was thinking we could get coffee.”

He stared at me, and I waited for him to catch up. “You mean now?”

“No, next Tuesday.”

His mouth opened, then closed again. I laughed. “Yes, now.”

“Right.” He looked down at the book in his hand as if it had suddenly become extremely important.

“You’re very subtle,” I said.

“I try.”

“You’re terrible at it.” That finally got a smile out of him.

We left the bookstore together.

There was a coffee shop two blocks away, but Larkin suggested another one farther down the street because the first was usually crowded around lunch. I didn’t mind. We walked side by side, and for once he didn’t keep that careful distance he’d used the first time we’d walked together.

I noticed.

I didn’t mention it.

The coffee shop had three small tables outside and barely enough room for two people to pass between the chairs and the storefront. We took one near the window.

Larkin held the door open for me, then immediately looked like he wasn’t sure whether he’d done something normal or accidentally made the situation weird.

I walked past him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He followed me inside, and we joined the short line at the counter. I ordered an iced latte while he went with black coffee.

I glanced at his cup. “Still no sugar?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“That’s depressing.”

“You put syrup in yours.”

I lifted my cup. “That’s called having taste.”

The barista handed me my drink. Larkin reached for his cup, and when he turned, he almost walked into the person behind him. He stopped so quickly that the coffee nearly spilled.

“Sorry.”

The man barely noticed and kept walking. I pressed my lips together, but Larkin caught it anyway.

“Don’t.”

“I was thinking you almost walked into a stranger.” I tapped my fingers to my cup.

He took a sip of his coffee. “I was distracted.”

“By what?”

His eyes met mine over the rim of the cup. He lowered it slowly.

“You.”

I wasn’t prepared for that.

Neither, apparently, was he. The tips of his ears turned red.

I smiled into my drink. “That was almost smooth.”

“Almost?”

“Very almost.”

We found a table outside, and I sat across from him.

For a few minutes, we talked about nothing important. The bookstore. His coffee. The fact that he apparently believed iced coffee was a personality flaw. He asked what kind of books I liked, and I gave him a list that made him laugh because half of them were completely different from each other.

“You don’t have a type,” he said.

I leaned back in my chair. “I have several.”

“That’s worse.”

I gave him a look. “You’re one to talk. You read everything upside down.”

I laughed as he groaned and looked away, and the conversation moved on to something else without either of us having to think about what to say next. That was the part that kept surprising me.

With Larkin, I didn’t have to force conversation. There were pauses, but they weren’t uncomfortable. He didn’t fill every silence with questions. He didn’t push when I gave short answers. When I changed the subject, he followed.

I found myself watching his hands while he talked. He had a small scar near his knuckle, barely visible unless he moved his fingers a certain way.

“What?” he asked.

I looked up. “What?”

“You were staring.”

I chuckled. “I was wondering where you got the scar.”

Larkin glanced down at it. “Old.”

“Helpful.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You’re very mysterious.”

Larkin gave me a skeptical look. “I don’t think I’m mysterious.”

“You absolutely are.”

He leaned back in his chair, one hand still wrapped around his coffee. “You found my social media.”

I blinked at him. “How did you know?”

Larkin’s smile faded. His fingers stopped against the coffee cup, and he looked at me for a second before shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

“You just said it.”

“I guessed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That was a very specific guess.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes dropping briefly to the table. “You said you knew my last name.”

“I could’ve heard it somewhere.”

He glanced back at me. “You could have.”

“See? Mysterious.”

He gave me a look. I smiled.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” I said. “The app suggested you.”

His shoulders dropped, and his grip loosened around the coffee cup. “You clicked it.”

I shrugged. “Obviously. I wanted to know your last name.”

He looked at me for a moment, his fingers going still around the cup. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to know.”

It was such a simple answer that I almost wished I hadn’t said it.

His fingers tightened slightly around the coffee cup.

Then he smiled. “Now you know.”

“Now I know.”

I took another sip, letting the coffee settle on my tongue before setting the cup down.

“There’s still a lot I don’t know.”

The smile faded from his face, leaving something quieter behind. “Like what?”

I looked at him for a moment. There were plenty of things I could ask.

“What you actually do at work. What music you listen to. Where you’re from. What you do when you’re not reading books you’re not actually reading.”

He laughed softly. “That’s a lot.”

“You asked.” I smiled.

He looked down at the table for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I work in finance. I listen to a little bit of everything. I grew up here.”

“New York?”

He nodded.

I rested my chin against my hand. “Favorite food?”

“Depends.”

I gave him a look. “That is not an answer.”

A small smile pulled at his mouth. “You asked a very broad question.”

“I’m asking very serious questions.”

He smiled again. “Italian.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I looked him over, trying to figure out why the answer surprised me. “You just don’t look like someone who orders Italian.”

He tilted his head. “What does someone who orders Italian look like?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then how did you decide I don’t?”

I shrugged. “You look like you’d eat something depressing out of a black container.”

He stared at me for a second.

I tried to keep a straight face, but the way he was looking at me made it impossible. He finally laughed, shaking his head.

A real laugh this time.

His head dropped for a second, and when he looked back up, his whole face had changed. I hadn’t seen him smile like that before. There was nothing guarded about it.

I forgot what I was going to say.

Larkin tilted his head when I didn’t continue. “What?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes stayed on mine. “You’re staring again.”

I glanced down at my coffee, then back at him. “I know.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and his smile grew wider. I looked away first.

My phone buzzed inside my bag.

The sound cut through the moment, and both of us looked down. I reached for it, expecting another message, but it was only a notification from an app. I let out a breath and slipped the phone back into my bag.

Larkin watched me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

I looked at him again. “I think I’m starting to understand why Jennie likes making fun of me.”

“Why?”

“Because I give her material.”

He smiled. “Apparently.”

I shook my head, but I was smiling too.

We stayed another twenty minutes.

When we finally stood, Larkin picked up his cup and looked at me. “Do you want to walk?”

I glanced down the street. “Sure.”

We started toward the corner. This time, he stayed beside me. Not ahead. Not behind.

Beside me.

And when we reached the intersection where we would have to split, neither of us stopped immediately.

Larkin looked toward my street, then back at me. “I won’t ask.”

I knew what he meant.

“You can ask other things.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Like what?”

I smiled. “Normal things.” He nodded, and for once he didn’t look like he was trying to figure out what the right answer was.

“Okay.”

I started walking backward. “See you around, Larkin.”

“Isabelle.”

I stopped.

He looked almost surprised that he’d said my name.

“What?”

He hesitated, then said more quietly, “See you around.”

I turned and continued down the street. This time, I didn’t look back. Not because I was afraid someone might be behind me.

Because I didn’t need to.

At least, that’s what I told myself.