Special Thanks to…

Dreamcatcher94: Thanks for the subscriptions and the favorites! I really appreciate it; it means so much to me! :D

Rosalie: Well, I was pretty sure you would like the last chapter with all those, uh, familiarities, lol. =P And since you couldn't get enough of Zach in the last chapter, I'm sure you'll just love him in this and the next few chapters. ;)

Wolfess: Yeah, sorry about that. I had to write a story for English and I had like a million essays to write, bleh. Anyway, the new semester started so I don't have as much to do, meaning more time to write for this story! (= I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and I laughed so hard when I read that you had to reread the part of the chapter where it was revealed Mo and Zach are siblings, lol. I actually hadn't planned that to begin with, it just popped into my head one day and I thought it'd be a really funny twist. :D It actually helps a lot too with lengthening the story and pulling Monique further into her relationship with Kayley. Also, I really did find that Doppler fact interesting! Again, thanks for the info on Doppler and Leland, it's all very helpful. :)

Emilie: It's not your fault! I totally hadn't considered what would happen. I deleted the author's note and put the chapter in its place, so I can totally understand how that would be confusing. It sounds like it happened to others too. I'm really sorry about that. My secret for making Zach so irritating is that I pull from guys I find really annoying because of their pomp, and I also pull from guys who just are plain bullies. When I write Zach's character, I have the intention he'll come across awful, but also with a really dweebish personality, lol. And about my poem, yes, you're completely right! I really am a tutor though, and sometimes it can get so frustrating, but I know they really need the help so I help them. *gasps* You are never "that unimportant"! My church just had a sermon about purpose in life. I've picked up from some things that you said, and I think your purpose is helping others. It's what you like to do and it really does help. You are very important! Please don't think badly of yourself. You've been very inspiring to me, and I want you to know that I also find you a very beautiful, kind, caring, and wonderful person. Ya know, if you ever want to talk, you can always e-mail me. I have Gmail and my account name is stefied7 (Fanfiction won't let me put in my e-mail address altogether). Oh gosh, I fell in love with your story plot. It's so moving! I would so love to read it and check it out! :D (Sorry about what happened to your grandmother, though. At least she was a strong survivor.) I hope your Christmas was nothing short of fantastic and that your New Year has started out splendidly. 3

Note: This is a direct continuation from the last chapter. (:

Chapter Sixteen: Stalked

Jim pulled up to the curb in front of Kayley's apartment building. Both teens, after glancing uncertainly at the crumbling building, unfastened their seatbelts. Jim climbed out of his side and shut his door. Kayley began to open her door, but slammed it closed as she saw a truck quickly approaching. From the protection of the car, she watched the old Chevy whiz past. It reached the end of the street and disappeared around a corner. She cautiously looked over her shoulder once again to see if it was safe to get out. Not seeing any other traffic, she decided it was safe enough to open her door and step out of the vehicle. She exhaled and gripped the door handle, then froze. It was finally hitting her; that had been too close for comfort.

Her door was yanked open from the outside. She took a deep breath, stepped out, and was enveloped in a tight embrace. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she gasped, half in shock and half in near suffocation.

Jim huffed in disgust. "That idiot shouldn't have a driver's license. I'm mad enough to sock that guy."

She patted his arm. "It's okay, let's just forgive and forget."

"But he—"

"Honey, it's okay, honestly. Look, he's long gone and I'm perfectly fine. There's nothing we can do about it."

He studied her hazel eyes for a moment before a sly, sideways smile slowly made its way onto his face. "I was worried about my mom's car."

"Ooooh!" She punched him in the arm. "You wicked, wicked boy!"

"Tell me something I don't know."

Kayley rolled her eyes and began dragging him to her apartment. They bantered back and forth as they climbed the five levels of stairs. Upon reaching her apartment, she twisted the key in the lock and pushed open her door. She stepped inside and cast a cautious glance at Jim, who stood outside her apartment and intensely watched her every movement.

"Thank you, I had a wonderful day, Jim."

He nodded, his eyes riveted on her.

She stared back, wondering what he was thinking. Yet he seemed satisfied just boring through her with his handsomely blue, tempting eyes, and not voicing his thoughts. Finally she could take it no longer. "Please, Jim, speak your mind. I'm not a mind reader," she begged with a hint of desperation in her tone.

He finally tore his eyes away to gaze past her and into her apartment, signaling that he wanted to enter…if it was okay with her.

Kayley looked down at her shoes and took a moment to debate the idea. Finally, she bit her bottom lip and stepped aside, allowing Jim to enter. Kayley shut the door, and then proceeded to stand there awkwardly, pondering what she should do or say. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. With a wave of her hand, she gestured to the entirety of the apartment, granting Jim permission to take a tour of the place.

Jim looked around the living room, slowly making a 360 degree turn. At the conclusion of his spin, something caught his eye. His interest was piqued and he made his way to a bedroom door that was slightly ajar. If he remembered correctly from earlier that morning, Kayley had gone into that room to finish getting ready. Which meant that it was more than likely her room. He turned with a questioning glance, and Kayley, though a bit hesitantly, nodded her consent. Jim looked back at the door. He wondered what he would find inside. He was guessing not much, for Kayley was a pretty quiet girl. Whatever awaited him, it would most definitely be an interesting experience.

Jim softly pushed open the door and entered another world. His eyes were drawn to the bed adorned in purple. At the bedside was a four-shelf bookstand. He scanned the four levels. The top consisted of historical novels on the queens of England's past. The second shelf contained biographies and autobiographies of people such as Benjamin Franklin, Anne Frank, The Romanovs, Queen Elizabeth I and Queen Victoria, Albert Einstein, Amelia Earhart, Florence Nightingale, and countless others, many of whom he didn't recognize. The third shelf contained literary classics such as the Anne of Green Gables and Little Women sagas, along with the Laura Ingles Wilder collection. Accompanying those were Emma, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and The Scarlet Letter, among several books of poetry, such as Emily Dickinson's Complete Book of Poems. Jim's eyes then roved to the bottom level, which was lined with numerous notebooks and the sort.

Kayley stood in the doorway, arms crossed. She watched him taking it all in. He seemed genuinely interested, intrigued, which pleased her. No one before had been so fascinated by her collection of books; she was used to the pitying smile or odd comment about it, but never before had anyone taken an interest in it. It was a pleasant change.

Jim turned from the collection of books and next eyed the walls of her bedroom. Across from her bed was a large-size poster of the Beatles. Pivoting 180 degrees west, he faced the front of her bed, and above it hung a hand-drawn flag of Britain, and next to that hung a white flag with a slim red cross going through it—the flag of England. On the wall next to the door was a framed poster of wild horses, and underneath the photograph was the caption "Let the Wild Roam Free." He took a quick glance over at Kayley, who was at that moment preoccupied with brushing her bangs out of her eyes. He smiled faintly, then turned around to once more scan over the room, making sure he had missed nothing. That's when a picture on her nightstand caught his eye. He stepped around her bed and examined it more closely. In the photo, seven beaming girls—dressed in white, long sleeved sweaters and red skirts—an interesting combination to say the least—stood behind a gleaming, golden trophy. Their faces were young and rounded, and they didn't look to be much older than in their preteens, if even that old. His eyes froze on the hazel-eyed, auburn-haired girl on the very left of the photograph. Like the rest of the girls, she was slightly leaning forward, right hand on her hip, a smile on her face. She was Kayley. He stared hard at the picture, not believing his eyes. She had never mentioned anything of this…

"This is my room," she said, breaking into his thoughts. "I suppose you already guessed as much."

He slowly tore his gaze from the picture and locked his eyes on the girl. "It's amazing," he replied.

She leaned against the doorframe. "No, it's not, but thanks for the beautiful lie." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"I'm…I'm not," he stammered, surprised at her remark. "I mean it."

She smiled, signaling she believed him. "Well, there's something missing: It's my tea. It's my favourite, and I'm not ashamed to say that I brew it myself. Would you like to try it? I was just about to put on a pot."

He flashed that smile she found so irresistible. "A spot of tea would be just lovely, Miss."

Kayley jokingly rolled her eyes at him. "Coming right up," she replied in a stumbling American accent as she began heading toward the kitchenette. As he began to follow her out, she threw back over her shoulder, "Oh, and, uh, please don't mimic my accent, you massacre it."

Jim laughed. "Hey, your American accent isn't much better."

Kayley joined in the laughter. "I know, but who wants to speak with an American accent anyway?" she teased. "Honestly, I do believe foreign accents have become a fad over here in the States. One can hear them on the air whenever the television or radio is turned on. You can't deny it." As she spoke, she placed the pot on the stove to brew.

"I won't deny it. I'm a proud American." He lazily leaned on the counter. "I'm the carefree type."

She shoved him aside. "I can see that…now please, I need my space as I do this."

He narrowed his eyes. "You need your space to make tea?"

"Yes, I need to concentrate," she said simply, continuing to push him out of the kitchenette. "The last time I brewed, I was distracted and burned the tea; it wasn't as pleasant tasting as it could have been."

"All right, all right, I'm going," he said whilst snatching an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. He sauntered over to the sofa and plopped down in it, throwing his legs across its length. "I'll be over here."

Kayley grinned and shook her head as she checked the temperature of her tea.

While she tended to her tea, he bit into the apple and casually glanced out the window down at the street below. Old, broken-down cars lined the streets. Houses in disarray stared back at him like a sore eye. Junk was piled up in the backyards. After staring helplessly at the disaster for a few moments, he found he had lost his appetite. His gaze traveled back to Kayley, who was bent over the stove, obviously absorbed in her tea-making. He sighed and returned to gazing out the window. "She shouldn't have to live in this. She deserves so much more—"

"Here we go," she sang, sitting down beside him on the loveseat. She handed him a steaming cup of her specialty before taking a sip from her own teacup.

"Great." He blew on the steaming liquid and took a taste. Instantly he was desperately fighting the urge to screw up his face in a knot.

"Do you like it?" she asked cheerfully.

"Mmm…" Jim swallowed hard. "What…what did you put in this…to give it such a…unique flavor?" he asked, almost choking on his words.

"Milk," she answered matter-of-factly. "I use milk instead of crème, although crème is more commonly used in America in coffee, tea, and the like."

"Ah, I see. Interesting."

Kayley grinned and sipped again. Jim kept his eyes riveted upon her, drinking in her entirety in place of the "unique" tea.

"What?" she finally asked, well-aware of the stare she was receiving.

Jim set his teacup on the end table beside the couch. He faced Kayley, who was wearing the beginnings of a frown. "You don't like it?" she asked, her tone hurt.

"Oh, no, that's not it…" Jim spoke softly, gently. He took the teacup from her hands and placed it alongside his own. He took her hands in his. "Kayley, I don't like you living in—" he hesitated, seeking the right words. "It's not safe for you here."

"Jim—"

"Please, Kayley, promise you'll be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Nothing will befall me," she said, her voice faltering.

"Just promise."

She nodded slowly. "I promise."

He leaned forward, closing the distance. "Honest?"

"Honest," she whispered, kissing him.

Jim quickly left the apartment building and jumped into his car. In his haste, he didn't notice the old, faded, orange nose of a Chevy pickup poking from around the corner at the far end of the street. He threw his mom's car in gear and peeled away from the curb before speeding down the road.

Zach glowered at the little car as it sped away. "That little weasel," Zach hissed through his teeth.

Monique, who had fallen asleep with her head against the passenger window, stirred at the sound of her brother's voice. "Wha…am I in trouble?" she asked, still not completely awake. When he didn't answer, she sat upright and resumed her lookout, only to see Jim's car was gone. "Hey, we missed him," she murmured tiredly, pulling the hair out of her sweater collar. Yawning, she looked down at the clock displayed on the dashboard. "Whoa!" she cried as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "We've been here for like, two hours!" Jaw hanging, she leaned her head back against the headrest and stared at the apartment building in wonder. "What went on in there?" she quietly asked herself, a mixture of fear and triumph racing through her.

The two of them sat there for a moment, pondering over the situation. Finally, Monique could take the suspense no longer. She looked over at Zach, waiting for him to say something, anything that would give her a clue as to what was in store for her. But he continued to stare, unblinking, at the road ahead of him.

"Earth to Zach." She waved a hand in front of his face. He slowly turned to face her and, much to her relief, he blinked. "What're we gonna do now? We just can't sit here. Besides," she announced, shuddering, "this place give me the creeps."

"Let me think," he snapped.

Monique blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and was about to go into pout mode, until an idea occurred to her. She smiled mischievously. "All right." She reached into her purse and removed her cellular phone. Her fingers began flying over the keys. It sounded as if she was typing on a keyboard, her nimble fingers pressed the buttons so quickly.

"What are you doing?" he asked irritably.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Being annoying."

"Nope," she answered, eyes never leaving the tiny screen. "Strike One."

"Being a smart—"

"Negative. And no cursing. Care to continue?"

Zach snatched the phone out of her hands.

"Hey!" Monique grabbed for her phone but he held her off with his palm in her face. She grunted. "Zach! Give it back!"

He continued holding her off as he read aloud from the screen of her cellular phone. "'Ugh! My brother's being a butt-head. He's been acting bizarre lately.'" Zach looked over at his sister, about to verbally assault her. Just then the phone vibrated.

Monique reached for the phone. "Gimme!"

Zach again held her off with one hand as he read the new message. Monique slumped in her seat and smacked her forehead. "'Yeah, he's a real idiot,'" he read, "'Just ignore The Big Turd, Mo.'" Zach sneered, obviously thinking it an imbecilic nickname. "Mo, 'The Big Turd'?"

"That's Violet's nickname for you that she got from the show Big Time Rush."

"Oh." Zach began typing on her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Sending a little reply to your friend here."

"No!" she cried as she began clawing at the hand in possession of her phone.

"Too late! Sent!"

Her shoulders sagged. "What did you say?"

"'It's Zach. You suck.'"

Monique shook her head. "You are unbelievable."

"I know," Zach answered as he started playing around on his sister's cell. He began skimming through her contact list. He froze when he spotted the name Kayley. "Mo, you have Kayley's number?" He threw the phone at her, conking her on the side of the head.

"Oww!"

"Text her, call her, just find some way to see her!"