Max, on the other hand, I know would hurt me. UNKNOWN: A gun wasn’t enough for you? Interesting. I drop the phone on my bed, and then my head into my hands. But then my head snaps up when I remind myself that the fucker was watching me sleep last night. Which means he got in my house again. All the blood in my cheeks drains like a whirlpool when I realize he could’ve been in my house before I even went to bed. That’s what he did last time, and I was pretty out of it last night. I know I read Gigi’s diary for a little while, but I don’t think I retained a single word I read. My gaze draws to my closet doors, like a magnet on a refrigerator. It’s a large closet with two doors that slide apart. My eyes thin, narrowing on the tiny crack between the two. My body moves on autopilot. I’m scrambling out of my bed and storming to the closet door before I can think it through. I have no idea what I’d do if he’s standing there. Probably shit myself. I tear the doors open and stop short when I’m met with nothing but way too many clothes that I don’t wear. There’s nowhere for him to hide in here. It’s not a deep closet and certainly not big enough to hide a six-foot-too-many-inches man. My hands tear through my clothes anyways, searching for him. And even when I’m positive he’s not there, I stare harder, swiping my clothes aside with heightening aggression. Get a fucking grip, Addie. It’s like you want him to be there. I sigh and turn away, the adrenaline rush diminishing. There’s nowhere else in this room for him to hide. As immense as the room is, it’s an open concept with minimal furniture. Now, I just feel like an idiot. I plop on the bed, crisscrossing my legs as I stare at my phone like it’s a mousetrap with a big ass block of cheese in it. Gourmet smoked gouda fucking cheese, to be precise. The phone lights up with an incoming text, the vibrations in the bed traveling straight up my legs. I snatch it up. I fucking love gouda cheese, goddammit. UNKNOWN: [Il be seeing you tonight, little mouse. I snarl. ME: From outside my house, and preferably in a cop’s handcuffs. UNKNOWN: You don’t need a cop to get me in handcuffs, baby. Pll let you do anything you want to me. I’m going to suffer from a heart attack with the severe directions my blood keeps rushing to. My pussy pulses from the illicit thought of him handcuffed to