+Zayan Colt+
"She magically disappears." Oswald sits back, grinning.
"I should feel bad." I murmured, looking at my phone, through her five different instagrams she uses to stalk me.
"You're desensitized. She's a lunatic." Walden shook his head.
I nodded, understanding.
Something about it was... entertaining.
She was always at my concerts, but she wasn't one of the classic stalkers I've had that tried getting into my house and try groping me at parties. She just ensured no woman would have the pleasure of enjoying my company more than once.
And following me.
It's been... 3 years? At least that I know of.
Although I don't know her true name, I am interested to see how she'd be face to face.
In German
"Du siehst aus, als ob du auf sie stehen könntest." Walden quirked a brow.
You look like you might be into her.
"Shes goth. And hot. I might as well see hm?"
"You make out with a different girl every party. She's obsessed with you, if you met her, your life is over."
"That could be good and bad."
"What if it's bad? These women have been just going missing for years over you, Z." Armin walked in mid conversation.
I nodded.
"That's fair."
"You do understand we all have talked about wanting a stalker goth girlfriend hm?" Oswald raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah but this is too legit." Armin shook his head.
"Just see. Let's send her some tickets for backstage. Just take a look at her and talk to her, Z." Oswald shrugged.
"Mmmm... how do we send them?" I asked.
"Let's go to the club. We all know she'll be there if you post it. Reverse stalker her and follow her home." Walden shrugged.
I hummed.
And I posted it.
-
I walked inside with them, they ordered for me and I sat down in one of the VIP booths we usually get.
My English was the worst out of all of us. My accent was too harsh for people to understand in loud settings.
Armin was next to worst.
Oswald was the best, he moved between the states and Deutschland since he was young.
Germany
I was fluent, but usually had to repeat something multiple times.
I suddenly wondered if she listened to our German music.
Most Americans didn't. Shockingly enough, but it's fair since they can't understand for the most part.
I scanned the area, and soon enough I get a text.
Walden: To my left, is that her?
I looked for them, finding a woman walking into the club with a friend.
Black tights I could see her thigh tattoos in.
A short bodysuit, a cropped top, the tattoos on her arms and neck visible, almost matching my own appearance.
She walked through, immediately catching the three before searching for me.
Her black lipstick was perfectly lining her mouth, her hair a black mess like she head-banged to some music before coming in here.
She found me, her eyes locked on mine. No reaction, no hint that she has a history of watching my every move.
She was interesting.