Chapter 7


By the time the red convertible rolled to a stop next to her, Courtney was still staring fixedly in the direction the dark-haired man had gone. In her hands she fingered the little paper he'd left, flattening it, smoothing out the creases without thinking. She couldn't quite bring herself to read it though; some small, warped part of her hoped if she waited long enough, he might come back to do it for her.

The sharp blaring of a car horn brought her crashing back to reality.

Whipping her head around to face the vehicle she had not yet noticed, Courtney furtively slipping the note into the waist of her jeans. The paper was cold against her skin. She was confused at first; she didn't recognize the car, and she wasn't doing anything to warrant particular attention.

But then, the driver spoke, and her blood boiled.

"Hola, mi amor. Looking beautiful as ever, I see."

Courtney made no attempt to hide her scowl. "Alejandro." It was impressive how much hatred was conveyed in that single word, though Alejandro acted unfazed. "What do you want?"

The charming Latino made a face. He placed his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "Ay, chica! Your tone makes it sound as if you do not want me here. But," he continued, frown melting to reveal a sly smile, "I know that cannot be true. You have missed me."

In that moment, his smirk eerily resembled that of another man, one with whom Courtney had been conversing just minutes earlier. The crookedness, the angled brow, the innate arrogance—all there. Not quite the same, but strikingly similar.

Later, Courtney would decide that the difference was in the eyes. Compared to the bright, strangely vulnerable gaze that he had turned on her, Alejandro's green orbs were dark and devious.

"How could I miss such a lying, backstabbing, manipulative snake?" A vicious snarl curled the corners of Courtney's mouth, and she spoke in a dangerous hiss. "Why should I want to see someone who's stabbed me in the back more times than I can count?" Her dark eyes flashed. "Let's be honest here, Al. Was Heather even the first?"

Apart from the occasional eye twitch, Alejandro appeared to remain composed. However, Courtney could see his facade crumbling with each accusation she threw. His control was slipping, and his knuckles were white where he clenched the window frame a little too tight.

"My sweet, sweet Courtney," he implored through gritted teeth, "You don't know what you're talking about. Heather was a, uh, mistake! A one-time mishap! There were no others, I promise. You are the only one who has my heart." He attempted one last charming grin. A lesser woman would have fallen for it. "You believe me, don't you?"

Looking at him in disgust, Courtney turned around. "Go to hell, cabrón."

As she began walking away, the girl heard the car door open and slam loudly behind her, followed by Alejandro's hysterical yells as he stormed onto the pavement. He wasn't used to being denied what he wanted, and his limited patience had been worn to naught.

"What did you say, puta? You have no right to speak to me like that!" His voice grew ever closer. Courtney could tell he was very, very angry, but her pride kept her from glancing back. Besides, it pleased her to know she was the one to make him lose his head. "Answer me!" Suddenly, Alejandro's hand closed on her wrist.

Now it was Courtney's turn to get pissed. She was sick of men grabbing her whenever they liked, and she would let the whole world know it.

"You heard me!" She whipped around, nearly spitting the words in his face, not paying any mind to his temper. Her own was far worse. "I told you to go to hell! It's where you belong, asshole!"

Courtney saw the slap before it came. Immediately, she ducked down to avoid it, kicking him in the groin and watching in satisfaction as he sunk to his knees with a cry. He released her arm. Perhaps it was a bit sadistic, but the brunette felt there was something rather enjoyable about causing him physical pain. It was probably because Alejandro deserved it.

With her head held high, Courtney sauntered away. This time, she experienced no interruptions.


Upon arriving at the foot of her driveway, Courtney had been immensely relieved to find her mother's car missing, but rather surprised to find her father's in its place. She had assumed the man was off on some business trip or other, seeing as she hadn't seen him in almost three full days.

Cautiously turning the handle of their front entrance, Courtney stepped inside and shut the door silently behind her. Though most of the lights were on, her father was nowhere in sight, probably working in his office. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. It wasn't that she disliked her father; on the contrary, she much preferred his company over that of her mother. However, he was a quiet man and rarely spoke beyond what was strictly necessary. This often made it awkward being in the same room with him, especially when he was occupied with his work.

Courtney usually found it easier to avoid interaction altogether.

Thankfully, the door to the kitchen was already open, meaning that she didn't have to go through the painstaking process of opening and closing it without making any sound. Removing her shoes in the foyer, she slipped through, grabbed an apple from the pantry, and pulled out a chair at the table. A crinkling noise came from her waistband as she lowered herself onto the seat.

Oh, right. The note. Courtney couldn't believe she'd forgotten. With only slight uncertainty, she withdrew the small, creased square and unfolded it. Her eyes widened.

Staring back at her was an immaculate sketch of a face, drawn and shaded with obvious care in grey pencil. It took less than a second for Courtney to realize it was her own. Every feature was there, from the curve of her lips to the seven freckles above her nose.

Instantly, Courtney knew that he must have drawn it (Who else?). While the obsessive precision with which he'd done so should have creeped her out, she felt nothing more than awe. How much time had he spent working on it, adjusting it, perfecting it? How long had he studied her face to be able to recreate it so faithfully on paper? She wondered briefly when he had gotten such a close look, but the alarming thought was swiftly brushed away. So long as he was just watching, what was the harm?

As if on cue, a prickling sensation surfaced along the girl's neck. Courtney snapped her gaze towards the window. She couldn't see him with the darkening sky, but she was almost certain he was looking to see her reaction. In fact, he'd probably been watching all along, ever since he'd "left" earlier that day.

Contemplating the thought didn't scare her as much as it would have a day ago. On the contrary, Courtney found it rather comforting, in a strange sort of way, to know he was looking out for her, however unorthodox his methods were. Of course, it helped that he was handsome. A smile appeared on her face faster than she could suppress it, and Courtney cursed herself for being such a romantic.

At that exact moment, a creaking from behind alerted her to the opening of the kitchen door. The brunette started, automatically setting her hands in her lap and sitting up straighter in her chair. Standing in the doorway was her father, in all his silent, intimidating glory. He scanned her from afar, as if analyzing what he saw, before his eyes came to rest on the paper clasped against her thigh.

"What is that?" Though far from loud, the deep baritone of his voice seemed to resonate off the tile floor into Courtney's ears. Trying to ignore how her stomach leaped into her throat, the girl purposefully met his gaze.

"Nothing. Just a picture." Quickly, she added, "It's not mine." She didn't want her father to think she was wasting her time on something as frivolous as drawing. It was true, too. Courtney couldn't remember the last time she had drawn for entertainment.

Her father inclined his head in slight acknowledgement. He held out one massive hand towards her.

"May I see it." It was not a question, and Courtney passed the paper over without another thought. For several long seconds, the man examined the portrait. He didn't offer it back when he was done. Instead, he chose to stare critically, penetratingly, at his daughter until Courtney experienced a strong urge to curl up into a ball and hide. Though, of course, her pride would never allow that. She pulled her shoulders back ever so slightly and said nothing.

Her father eventually turned back to the picture. When he spoke, he sounded…thoughtful. Nostalgic was not the appropriate word. "It is very well done; a near exact recreation." With a hint of interest, he inquired, "Who is the artist?"

Courtney was taken aback. She had expected her father to throw the sketch aside and say nothing, not demonstrate genuine interest in it. Biting her lip, she considered how to answer his question. She couldn't tell the truth; even if she did know the strange young man's name (which she didn't), she couldn't very well explain her relationship to him. She stuttered as she spat out the first name that came to mind. "Oh, um, that was Bridgette." Mr. Mann raised a brow at her hesitation, so she elaborated to seem more convincing. "We met for coffee today and she asked if she could draw me. As practice for her art class."

There was a deafening lull in the conversation. "Interesting." Although her father clearly didn't believe her, he wasn't the type to pry. The paper went into his pants' pocket. "Well, good night." Business taken care of, he retreated towards his study.

"Good night." The door thudded closed. Once more, Courtney was left sitting in her chair alone, now without even the drawing to distract her from her solitude. Remembering the apple on the table in front of her, she grabbed at it greedily, taking one bite and another until the fruit soon disappeared. And yet, the empty feeling in her abdomen had not lessened.

Courtney knew it wasn't just hunger.


A/N: (Edit) 12/20/20

Annnnnd I've officially caught up! Hope you're all ready for some action, because I plan on bringing it in the next couple chapters ;).

Thanks again for staying with me this far!

-Scraps