Little Stalker by Erica Pike Read Free Book Online Page A

have no idea what to do with myself, so I stand under the lamp post and watch
    Grayson take a step back.
    “You’re not going to those faggot friends of yours,” she shouts. Her face scrunches up
    with disgust. “I didn’t fucking raise you to be a fucking cock-sucker!”
    “You didn’t raise me. Period,” Grayson shouts back and spins around. He stops in his
    tracks when he sees me. His mouth drops open as he stares, but then he narrows his eyes at
    me and heads for a bike chained to a sorry looking garage.
    His mom comes after him with a growl, her arms raised. Grayson has a few inches on
    her, but still he jerks and cowers as she advances.
    Fuck.
    Before I can think about what to do, I’m already running toward the woman. I grab
    her bony wrist just before she brings it down on her son. Then I listen to her swear a year’s
    worth of cussing while she tries to twist herself out my grasp. My chest gets hit a number of
    times, but even though I definitely feel it, she’s too weak to do me much harm.
    When I look down at Grayson, his wide eyes meet mine, red lips half parted, and my
    heart prickles and hammers. Has it always been like this for him?
    The woman starts biting my hand, and I growl with a fierce frown on my face,
    gripping her wrist tighter. She hesitates for a second, a flash of fear gleaming in her eyes, but
    then she starts swearing again.
    “Shut the fuck up, and go inside,” I yell and throw her away from me.
    She hunkers down for a bit and glares at me. I didn’t really expect that she’d actually
    go inside, but she does, showering some more obscenities the whole way.
    It feels much too quiet after she’s slammed the door. There’s still loud music down
    the street, but I swear I can hear my heart beat in the quiet between Grayson and me. He’s
    still sitting in the dirt, pointedly not looking my way.
    “Hey, are you okay?” I ask in a low voice, receiving all sorts of pangs throughout my
    body when he flinches away from my touch.
    “Fine,” he says in an equally low voice before he stands up and starts walking,
    leaving behind his bike.
    I follow him at a jog.
    “Why don’t you move out?”

    Instead of answering me, he speeds up, turning up the street away from Brewerytown.
    “Grayson, please talk to me.”
    Without looking at me, he mumbles “There’s no money for a dorm room.”
    “But isn’t there anyone you could go to, like your grandparents or something?”
    He stops so abruptly that I bump into his back, sending him skidding forward a few
    steps. When he turns around, he meets my gaze with narrowed eyes and lips clamped thin.
    “My life is none of your business, okay? I can take care of myself. What the hell are
    you doing here anyway?”
    When I take a step in his direction, he retreats a step, shaking his head in a warning. I
    swallow hard and try to ease the tiny aches in my body.
    “I came to apologize. You don’t know how badly I feel about hurting you.”
    He watches me quietly for a long, excruciating minute before averting his eyes.
    “I’m fine. You didn’t tear my muscle or anything.”
    “Tear a muscle?” I ask.
    The flush in his cheeks clues me in on what he’s talking about.
    “No, I don’t mean that, I mean I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
    At that, he looks at me, head tilted, hair in one eye. His beautiful lips part and close
    several times, but then he shakes his head, turns around and continues walking.
    “Hey!” I call after him, setting off at a jog to catch up. God it hurts so bad, that punch-
    in-the-stomach feeling. He’s rejecting me.
    “Come on, Grayson, just talk to me.”
    “I gotta go to work,” he says hurriedly, shaking my arm away when I try to grab him.
    He turns up to a busy street, heading toward a group of men casting him a leery eye.
    But as they look past him, at me, they go back to talking.
    “Fuck, Coby. Could you leave?” says Grayson, not stopping to look at me.
    “Why? This is a dangerous place. I’ll walk