Playing Doctor

Chapter Nine

stalk [stawk] - verb

1. to proceed or spread through in a sinister manner.

2. to pursue a quarry readily.

The next day I pushed all thoughts of Gray out of my head and focused on my renewed purpose: to find a job ASAP. I changed into one of my new outfits and went to patrol Mena's neighborhood.

Before I moved to Palo Alto to attend Stanford, there wasn't much to Portland's NW 23rd, but in the past several years the neighborhood had gentrified. Expensive little shops, fine restaurants, and rents that made even Californians cringe. But I liked it. Plus if I could find a job here, I could walk to work.

I strode up and down both sides of the street, noting that there was a Help Wanted sign in a pizza place. I didn't eat pizza but how difficult could it be to make?

Then I noticed the sign in the video store's window.

A video store clerk. I smiled. That was so normal. It was one of those jobs, like waitressing, that everyone (except me) had done before graduating from college.

It was meant to be.

I went inside Play Me and filled out an application. Because I didn't want to be unprepared like I was at the bookstore, I patrolled the aisles, surveying what movies people were picking up so I could intelligibly talk about it when they called me for an interview. Maybe I'd even do extra research and rent one of the movies for myself.

I was watching a couple debate over a romantic comedy and an action movie when I felt a familiar presence by my side. I mentally groaned, telling myself I had to be mistaken.

Then he spoke. "I'd pick the action movie."

Groaning out loud this time, I turned to face Gray. "Are you following me? Because stalking is a felony."

He grinned. "I could accuse you of the same."

"Only I was here first. I'd have to be psychic to know you were going to show up here."

"Unless you've scoped me out and know my habits," he pointed out, leaning casually against the shelving. "Or else maybe I just happen to hang out in this neighborhood all the time because I work here and live close by."

I waited a moment to see if the shelves would topple and domino across the store but they didn't. Unfortunately. "You're assuming one thing."

"What?"

"That I care enough to follow you." Head high, I turned and walked away from him.

Not that he got the hint. And because of his long-legged stride he didn't even have to hurry to keep up with my brisk pace. "You cared last night."

"Wait a minute." I whirled around so suddenly our bodies collided. I ignored the jump of excitement it caused (or I tried to anyway) and poked a finger at his chest. "You were the one who kissed me."

"You need to lighten up. Nice outfit, by the way. Are you headed to the gym?"

"No." I looked down at the purple leggings and matching cotton top I'd bought. "Why?"

"You usually don't dress so casually." His gaze roved down my body and back up. Then he scowled. "But what's up with your hair?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your hair." The disgust on his face would have been comical if it weren't directed at my head.

My hand flew to my bun. "What's wrong with it?"