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NoNo22 presents...
Sincerely Yours
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The first time I saw him I was at my nearest Starbucks. It was raining outside: the rain was constantly tapping its wet fingers against the window he sat next to. He was wearing a buttoned up dark brown sweater vest with a green collared shirt underneath, and a pair of beige pants to put all together. It was a simple outfit, but he made it work with that timid appearance of his. He had auburn hair that complimented the freckles that were scattered across his face with the greenest eyes I've ever seen behind huge owlish black frames. When our eyes met, I noticed how his shoulders—such small shoulders—tensed up before he hastily looked away. I watched as the blood rushed to his face and settled under freckled cheeks to form such a wonderful rosy blush. If I could describe him in one word, it would be cute.
Three months later I saw that very same guy for a second time. At first I didn't notice him, because I was too busy locking up my house so I could head off to work, but when I turned to go to my car I saw him standing there across the street. If it hadn't been for the large black dog he had with him on a leash, I would've thought this coincidence to be very strange and almost creepy. Like the last time when our eyes met, his tiny body tensed for being caught staring before he looked away and urged his dog to keep on walking. At that time, I didn't pay much attention to the way he acted. I just assumed that it was a coincidence that we saw each other again, and he probably was just staring at me because he recognized me.
The third time I saw him was probably a month later when I was getting off my job; I saw him standing at a payphone with the phone at his ear. Like the second time, I didn't pay attention to the situation, and merely brushed it off as another coincidence. But I do remember wondering why he was using a payphone instead of his cell phone, who he was talking to on the phone, and why he was all alone. A guy like him, delicate and tiny, shouldn't be alone at night, especially if he had no cellphone that he could use to call the police if for whatever reason he had to call. So I had decided I would wait till someone came to pick him up, for I assumed he had been calling for his ride. As the night drew on, there was no sign of any car pulling over to pick him up and he made no move of leaving the phone booth, not that I blame him. Eventually, however, he finally stepped out of the booth and briskly walked away. I had been very worried for his well-being so I had followed at a distance until he entered a building where I knew he'd be safe. After all, I spent a whole hour standing outside the building just to see if he would come out any time soon.
The fourth time, two weeks after the third time, I saw him during a date of mine. He had been sitting four tables away from my table with someone I didn't know. I had to take a double take to realize that he was with a man. He probably had been on a date himself, but I never expected him to be into guys. Well, with his tiny frame, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I remember examining the new man over and over. He had been very tall and rather lanky and just a flat out nerd to be honest. He was not at all the kind of guy the freckled male needed. He needed someone strong and reliable, someone that could protect him and could make him feel safe. Not to boast or anything, but freckles needed a man like me.
I remember that on closer inspection, the guy not only looked very nerdy, but suspicious. He constantly had shifty eyes and would scope around as if he had someone watching. I recall that at the time I had been yet again worried for freckles' well-being and I pulled out my phone to take pictures of him and his date, in case something were to happen to him I would have proof visual proof of the culprit. My date hadn't liked that I was taking pictures of other people other than her, and when I tried to explain to my date that a delicate flower like him should be kept an eye on at all times. She had gotten angry and left the restaurant storming and saying some nonsense about me acting like a creep. I realized then that it was stupid of me to expect her to understand my reasoning. She wasn't the only one either. My other dates said I was acting very strange and they constantly got angry when the saw pictures of him in my phone. It was needless to say that they were jealous of his superior beauty, and when they had called him a "nerd" or a "nobody" I really found it annoying that I often lost my temper. After the fifth girl I dated bad-mouthed him I decided that I wouldn't be dating for a long time; there was no need to when he was around.
The fifth, sixth, and seventh time I had seen him were mere glimpses of him, and it wasn't until a month after the fourth, on the eighth time I saw him, did something peculiar happen; I saw him on my front porch. That afternoon, on my day off, I had taken a stroll through the park, and when I was coming back home, about to cross the street over to my house, there he was. I had hidden behind a car to watch him, because it would be weird if I had approached him, even if it was my house. He had just stood there for a while with this anxious look on his freckled face, and a couple of time he lifted his hand hesitantly as if he wanted to knock, but he never did. After a while, he finally left looking dejected. As I took pictures of him from where I hid (as evidence once again) I had started to wonder if our meetings were coincidences or not.
I haven't seen that guy for another month since I saw him at my doorstep, and I've come to the conclusion of what he could be: a stalker. It all made sense now that I think about it. He probably started thinking about stalking me after that first time I saw him, but didn't really start stalking me until the second time when he found where I lived. So that time when he had been staring at me, it wasn't just because he recognized me, but because he found out where I lived. And here I thought he was as dainty as a flower, but it had all been a part of his plan wasn't it? He wanted me to believe he was what he appears so I wouldn't suspect him, he wanted it so that he plagued my thoughts nearly every waking minute so other women wouldn't appeal to me, and he wanted to isolate me so he could have me all to himself. On top of this sudden revelation, recently I've been getting gifts in my mail box with no address of any kind. Gifts like flowers, chocolates, and even strange love letters. The strange thing is that these are things a man would give to a girl. The love letters were all signed as "sincerely yours". That was it. There was never a name to follow those words.
Everything was making a lot more sense, the only question is why is he stalking me?
I got up from my bed that I've been laying on for the past hour, just thinking about this whole situation I'm in, and headed to my bathroom. I stared at my reflection, my eyes darting all around my face as I examined myself. I have to admit that I am pretty good looking, or at least average, but definitely not ugly. If I had to pick out my best feature, I guess I would say it's my eyes because they are a nice frost blue color and I have the bedroom eyes that girls seem to like in a guy. As I turned my head to the side, I also noticed that I have a strong jawline that most people would find attractive. I also have dark brown hair that's short but has a messy touch to it. He'd like that. So maybe I had a little something going for me, but was it enough for a guy to actually stalk me? What am I saying? Of course it is.
This is the ninth time I see him, and it's been a little more than six months since the first time I saw him, and about five weeks since the last time. Usually, I see him from a distance, but this time, as I sat alone drinking my favorite chocolate chai tea latte, he's sitting a table across from me. At first, I thought he didn't notice me because he was reading a book, but as I continued to stare at him, I noticed that he was actually glancing at me. Of course he would be sneaking glances at me.
This was my chance wasn't it? I should go up to him and tell him to stop it and to leave me alone. But from what I researched on the topic of stalkers, if he feels rejected, he might react violently. So perhaps I should actually go about it more gently, like maybe start a conversation with him and somewhere along the way mention that I have a girlfriend, because that way there would be no room for argument. Of course it would be a lie, but what he doesn't know wouldn't hurt. Not like I would ever have a girlfriend when there are guys as cute as he is.
Okay, my mind is set. It's now or never. This has got to stop today. So without a further ado, I got up from my table and as casually as I could, went to his table and sat down across from him. I gave him the friendliest smile I had to offer, but I noticed that his shoulders were tense again. Why is he tense? I'm being completely friendly.
"Hey," I said as I tried to ignore that he was avoiding eye contact with me at all cost. He probably didn't expect me to approach him, well most people wouldn't right? But shouldn't he be happy to see me making a move? I mean, he's been stalking me for the past six months. He's very shy, and he's often alone when I see him; he doesn't seem like a guy who's been in any kind of relationship before, other than that time at the restaurant when he was with that guy. But I really doubt he hooked up with that guy, because I'm his ideal man. And if I had read that internet page correctly, he should already be in love with the victim, which is me and not that other man. So why isn't he happy?
"H—Hello," he finally said in a very quiet voice. I had to crane my neck towards him to even catch what he said. Even though it was soft, he had a very nice voice: flowing and hauntingly pure.
"I'm Jack, nice to meet you," I said, still smiling so he doesn't feel threatened or rejected in any way. He didn't say anything at all, he stayed very quiet and stared down at the table. I then noticed that his bottom lip (his lips look so soft) was trembling. Was he going to cry? Did I alarm him? But that's not supposed to happen, because he's my stalker. "Hey, I won't bite. What's your name?"
He stayed quiet again, and he kept glancing down at his backpack that was hanging off the side of his chair. I was starting to grow a little irritated, just a bit, because I don't understand why he's acting frightened when he's the one that's been freaking me out! He had some nerve to make me feel that way.
"M-my name is H-Hiccup," he said. Finally! A name for my stalker. It was actually a cute name, and it suited him so well. Of course.
"That's a cute name," I complimented, just trying to be nice and make conversation. After all, I have to break it to him that I have a "girlfriend".
"Yeah…" was all he said. Silence settled between us soon after he said that. Well this is going nowhere, not when he's not even trying to make conversation. Are all stalkers like this? Are they all socially inept? Maybe they're actually not as bad as people make stalkers to be, or maybe it's just this guy. I don't know, after all, he is my first stalker. Maybe I should just go for the kill if he's this docile and get this over with.
"So here's the thing, Hiccup. I kind of noticed that you—"
"Could you please stop?" he interrupted me, albeit quietly. I blanked for a moment, confused by what he meant and sort of stunned that he actually interrupted me.
"Stop what?" I asked as I offered him another smile. He was still not looking at me in the eye, and if anything, he was starting to lean away from me and his hand was inching towards his backpack.
"Could you please stop stalking me? I've seen you outside my house, you scare all my dates away, and I want you to stop taking pictures of me and giving me gifts. I-I returned all of your gifts, so you have nothing to hold against me," he said in a louder, but still quiet voice.
He is indeed very cute when he speaks softly, but I wonder how cute he will be screaming.