123. Clamoring for Attention

Third Person's POV:

The silence between them stretched on, thick as the humid night air.

Rose swallowed, adjusting the grip on her blanket like it was some kind of holy armor, her fingers curling tightly around the wooden cross she had snatched from Aria in exchange for the couch pillow.

Her eyes flickered to the view outside into the meadow where he stood—still, unmoving, watching her

A phantom carved out of darkness, except for those goddamn eyes, glowing like molten gold under the dim moonlight.

She had sent Aria upstairs to keep her out of his sight, but the damage was already done. He had seen her.

Seen both of them. And if she knew anything about obsessive creeps, it was that they had a tendency to escalate.

Her grip tightened. Not her. Not Aria.

With a shaky breath, Rose hesitated before raising the cross, arm outstretched, like she was warding off a vampire from an old horror movie.

Back! Back, you demon! she thought, feeling ridiculous even as she did it.

Nothing.

No sudden jerks of retreat, no pained hisses, no spontaneous combustion.

His stance didn't change. If anything, his head tilted a fraction, as if observing some mildly interesting street performance.

Maybe she's too far away, she needs to get closer? With shaky legs, Rose decided to get to the glass door and stood behind them, still locked by the way.

Once again she shook the cross before her.

She squinted, trying to see his expression past the hood shadowing his features, but she could only make out the faintest shift in his posture.

Then, something truly terrifying happened.

His shoulders moved.

Not in a way that suggested fear or discomfort. No, that would have been too convenient. His shoulders shook.

Not in way that she would have liked to see, like in fear or repulsiveness instead it looked more like...

Rose's stomach did a backflip when she realized it was looking like he was...

Was he… laughing?

No sound reached her ears, but she swore she saw the sharp exhale of amusement ripple through him. Her stalker—the looming, menacing nightmare haunting her every step—was chuckling at her. 

As if she was a circus freak showing him a trick.

A fresh wave of anger surged through her veins.

Why? was this funny to him? 

He never looked like he was amused by her before, not even when she was with him in the woods that night, not when he was only a hair's breadth away, breathing down her neck. What changed tonight?

Her mind raced back to the last few moments. Was it because he saw Aria? Was it because he had new prey?

The thought alone made her heart seize in her chest.

No.

No, she couldn't let that happen. If his attention was shifting, she needed to -she can't believe she was saying that- but she really needs to drag it back.

To her. Only her.

She didn't know what he wanted from her, but whatever it was, he had already decided she was worth stalking.

And if he had to be obsessed with someone, she'd rather it be her than anyone else she cared about.

But how?

What could she do to make sure his eyes stayed only on her?

Her gaze darted around the dimly lit living room, desperately searching for something—anything—that could serve as an effective distraction.

Her gaze instantly fell on the blanket covering her body from his piercing gaze. No way in hell.

Her mind, still clouded by whatever remnants of that stupid drug Aria had dragged into her life, was firing off ideas at a reckless speed.

Juggling?

Nope, she could barely juggle the proverbial tasks through a busy day much less actually objects; she'd drop everything in five seconds and look like an idiot.

Besides, when was the last time anyone was entranced by a juggling act outside of a circus?

Miming?

What? No. No way. Even if she did know how to mime, the idea of silently performing for her stalker like she was trapped in some twisted French street act was too absurd. 

Come on, drug induced brain, work!

Her eyes darted downward once again, catching on the soft fleece still wrapped around her body.

Oh no.

No, no, no, absolutely not.

But the thought had already planted itself in her mind, twisting its way through her logic, slithering into her consideration like a devil on her shoulder.

It would work, wouldn't it?