- Evan

Evan looked like he'd stepped out of a movie, not a sweet romance, but one of those obsessive love stories. Dark hair, a defined jawline, a slender body with defined muscles that peeked out from under his white jacket. A warm, dangerous smile, the kind that makes anyone trust him.

But I knew what he was. He wasn't harmless, or shy, or sweet. He just knew how to act.

To everyone he was the golden boy: polite, proper, quiet. But he wasn't quiet out of emptiness; he was observing. Calculating. Silently dominant.

I knew it when we brushed against each other in the hallway. His hand didn't just touch my arm, it lingered there. His eyes never left mine. It wasn't a normal look, it was possession. I didn't need any more words: Evan was stalking me.

He was subtle, patient, dangerous. When I lost something, he would "find" it. My favorite pen wasn't a coincidence. He knew me, and he liked what he knew.

But I didn't know something: I had him in my sights too.

I am not like him. He hides, pretending to be light. I am the shadow.

I know twenty-two steps from her room to the kitchen. I know how she sleeps, what she wears, how she showers. All timed. I know what she hates, what she collects, even the black switchblade under her desk. I saw it the night I went into her room.

He thinks I'm just a girl who stares at him too much. He doesn't know I was by his bedside while he was sleeping.

That day, from the second floor, I saw him laughing with his fake smile. He seemed lost. Until he looked up and met my gaze. The distance didn't matter. He didn't smile, he didn't wave. He just stared.

And that's when I knew. He noticed I was watching him. And he wanted me to watch him.

stalking each other.