Clearly, my investigative skills need some work. This is just getting ridiculous. The two people I was most certain were behind the notes have nothing to do with them. Now I'm starting over from scratch and I have no leads. Next option might involve a hidden camera.
I can feel Andy's eyes on me as my mind ticks to piece this mystery together but I ignore his curious stare and yank my purse into my lap instead. Digging through my junk drawer of a bag, I pluck all six notes from hiding and unravel them before spreading them out across Andy's comforter. I do my best to align them in order from when I received them and then I start picking each word apart looking for some kind of clue.
"Those them?" Andy asks, motioning to the pages in front of me with his chin.
"Yeah." I scratch the left side of my head before tucking the dark strands of hair behind my ear. "I just can't figure out who they're coming from." My attention flickers to Andy before returning to the notes. "I thought it was Mike but he says it's not and even though he knows who's giving them to me, he doesn't seem interested in giving the guy away."
"So we can check creepy stalker off the list," Andy says, shifting closer to me so he can read the notes. "What's this mean?"
I glance at where he's pointing and then shrug. "I thought it was a star at first, which made me think it was one of your Starling buddies. Now I'm thinking it's an 'A'."
"Ahhh," he nods, understanding. "That's why you thought it was me then."
"Yep, and because of this." I point at the latest note and then glance at Andy. "I got that one just after you kissed me."
"Seriously?" Andy leans back, uncomfortable about this piece of information. "So someone was watching us?" He hums to himself, shaking his head before lifting startlingly blue eyes toward mine. "I'm not so sure I'd cross 'creepy' stalker off your list after all."
"Yeah." I nod, silence settling into the room as we both work to decipher the notes.
"So..." The word stretches out between us and I can almost hear the thoughts clicking around in his head, dread tightening in my stomach at what Andy plans to say. "The butterflies you mentioned...?"
I groan, flopping back onto the bed and throwing my arm over my face.
"Were those for me?" he continues, "Or for whoever this mystery guy is?"
"As if I haven't been humiliated enough, you're gonna make me answer that?" I ask, horrified as I shake my head in the negative. "No. How 'bout this though. You tell me which answer you'd prefer and I'll tell you if you're right or not."
His laughter is contagious and I find myself grinning around my frown. "Clever girl."
I may have been joking—kind of—but the fact that he doesn't take me up on the challenge tells me only one thing: he doesn't feel the same way and he's sparing my feelings by remaining silent.
"I was almost positive that note was from Mike until he shot down that idea," I say thoughtlessly as I start gathering the notes up again. I even take the time to fold each one back into it's original shape. Whoever wrote these took great care in molding each note into something unique and I can't bring myself to destroy their artwork.
"Why's that?"
Andy's question has me freezing. I clearly didn't think this through because now I'm going to have to be honest. Honesty sucks sometimes.
"Because." I clear my throat. "I got that note the night of Mike's cookout... just after he kissed me."
Nothing about Andy's demeanor changes. His face remains relaxed, his body comfortably seated beside me. Even his eyes manage not to flash even the faintest hint of alarm or hurt. But something in the room shifts. I can feel an almost humid density fill the air, causing heat to sizzle across my sticky skin.
"I didn't realize you guys were—"
"No!" I hurry to clarify, the warmth gathering in my underarms making me just shy of frantic. "No, there's nothing going on between us. Mike has made that abundantly clear. That night was a mistake." I shrug, hoping to come off as unbothered. "He was drunk."
"Oh."
Andy watches me for several seconds and I finally meet his stare. His face is serious, like he's trying to figure something out. And then he's standing before turning back around and reaching to scoop me into his arms. He shushes me before I can question his behavior, and manages to open the door before jogging as gracelessly as possible down the stairs and into the basement.
"Enough serious talk," he says, chucking me onto the couch. I let out a loud 'oof' on impact but he ignores it as he turns to rummage around the coffee table for the remotes. "Scooch!"
Before I can pull my legs out of his path, Andy's plopping himself down on top of them and lifting his feet to rest on the table in front of him. I groan beneath his weight, struggling to free my limbs but Andy's feigning ignorance. With no other options, I lean forward and attack his sides with my fingers. Again, he doesn't even flinch.
"Did you honestly think that'd work?" he asks, dropping a questioning glance in my direction.
"No," I huff. "But it was worth a try. I mean, come on! Who doesn't have a ticklish spot?"
Andy doesn't respond. Only smirks mildly before returning his attention to the TV.
"No way," I gasp, sitting up straighter. "You do have one? You've played us all as fools this whole time."
He chuckles softly but doesn't meet my eye.
"I will find it, you know?"
"I look forward to seeing you try," he challenges. "Now hush. The movie's starting."
———
I don't sleep. My mind won't let me. I've been rewinding through the last three weeks trying to understand who might be leaving me the notes. They started the day I saw Mike for the first time and the day after Andy and I saw each other at his sister's soccer match. Those were my only leads. Too many coincidences; it's just not adding up.
The strangest part about all of this is that, if given the option, I think I know who I'd like the notes to be from, and it's not Mike. The realization of this is startling. Somehow over the past few weeks, my mind and heart have slowly released him from their grasps. He went from a fading dream; to a blazing, hot possibility; to a memory. Mike isn't riding shotgun in my thoughts anymore.
I think... maybe, quite possibly, Andy is.
He's been here for me from the beginning and then, even after I shut him out to suffer in solitude with my mistakes, he didn't abandon me. He didn't let his hurt at my distrust in the world cloud his friendship with me. I let him down and he somehow climbed his way back up. I just wish I'd realized it sooner. I wish I'd seem him for the genuine guy he is, but all I saw was a friend.
The other day at his house when his mom mentioned he'd been into me since high school, a part of me died. But it was a good death. It was that part that had been hanging onto Mike. I feel like I'm standing between two escalators going in opposite directions. Mike's on one and Andy's on the other, and it's my choice to pick who I'm going to jump on board with and who I'm going to just let pass by. The thing is, I think Mike's already gone. He passed by a long time ago and I missed it. But maybe that's a good thing. I needed to miss him in order to see what other options were out there.
Dropping back into my swivel chair after signing in the fourth patient of the day, I close my eyes and let out a dramatic exhale. I'd like to say that guys are complicated, but in this instance, that'd be false. Mike and Andy aren't confusing me... I am. My brain is a bowl of noodles all interwoven and mingling together in a heap of clues that I can't decipher. What am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to choose? Clearly, Mike's not an option but maybe Andy isn't right either. He's got problems of his own that he doesn't want me getting involved in.
I need to feel needed, but maybe that's my problem. Mike doesn't need me... and maybe Andy doesn't either. How do I help people who don't want my help? Or do they, they're just too arrogant and stubborn to admit it.
I sigh again, my own thoughts making me exhausted. I'm not sure how I even manage to make it through a normal day with so many thoughts fluttering around in my head. I need a vacation.
"Long day?" Abby asks from behind me and I can almost hear the smirk in her tone.
"Didn't sleep," I explain, rubbing at my temples.
Pushing myself out of my seat, I drag my feet to the break room and pour myself another cup of coffee. I even limit the amount of milk in exchange for a stronger caffeine kick. I've already choked down three cups this morning and none of them have even come close to clearing the fog from my brain.
With cup against my lips, I slurp at my beverage as my lethargic feet return me to my desk. Abby's in my seat, signing for a delivery, so I enjoy a few more drinks while I wait for her to move. Resting my hip against the counter, I watch Abby slide the clipboard across the counter toward the delivery man and as my eyes slide across the page I swear I feel my veins freeze, my blood circulation growing sluggish and making my head spin.
There's only one other place I've seen that 'A' before.
Abby—of all people—is the one who's been writing me notes.
---
Gosh, I've been excited to post this chapter for months! Haha. Raise your hand if you were even a little surprised! Anyone, anyone??? :D