The Stalker

The first thing she noticed was how dry and heavy her tongue felt in her mouth. A bitter, unfamiliar taste lingered at the back of her throat. Her head throbbed in sync with every heartbeat. Light slipping through a crack in the thick curtains stabbed at her eyes when she forced them open.

She was lying on her back in a bed that was far too big for her. The comforter was soft and smelled like fresh linen mixed with something herbal she couldn’t quite place. Her body felt sluggish, weighed down. Somewhere deeper in the suite, she could hear faint music, an acoustic guitar melody, gentle and drawn out.

As her eyes adjusted, the room came into focus. This wasn’t just any hotel room. It was a suite. Tall windows with heavy drapes, a sitting area with a dark green couch, a wooden coffee table littered with half-empty cups and a bowl of grapes. In the corner, propped against the wall, was a guitar case. Her guitar.

Someone sat on the couch, a silhouette she didn’t recognize at first. Long legs stretched out, shoulders hunched forward as he typed something on his phone. Dark hair fell messily across his forehead, just long enough to look artfully untidy. He wore a loose black T-shirt, his arms lean but strong, a silver chain resting on his collarbone.

She blinked again. Her heart lurched. It was Jayden Storm. Not just anyone.The Jayden Storm. World stadium tours, platinum records, the voice she’d played on repeat when she was fifteen. And now he was just there, in the same suite, only a few steps away.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he lifted his head. His eyes were clear, bright blue, the kind of blue that always looked almost fake in photos but was real now. He gave her a small, easy smile and set his phone aside.

“Hey. There you are.” His voice was deeper than on his records, calm, warm. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “How do you feel?”

She tried to speak but her mouth felt glued shut. She licked her lips, cleared her throat. Her voice came out rough and broken. “What is this? Where am I?”

Jayden stood and crossed to a small kitchenette on the side of the suite, filling a glass of water. He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the glass into her hands. His fingers brushed hers, his skin was warm.

“Drink a little. Small sips. You need it.” He watched as she wet her lips and forced down a few gulps. The water was ice-cold but washed away some of the sour taste.

She set the glass in her lap. Her hands trembled slightly. “What happened?” she asked.

He leaned back a little, his eyes still soft. “You were in rough shape last night. Someone probably slipped something into your drink. I found you out back, behind the backstage tent. You couldn’t walk. You were barely standing, leaning on the fence.”

She tried to remember, flashes of pounding music, lights, voices. A few cups of alcohol. A hand on her arm. Then nothing. Just emptiness.

“I couldn’t leave you there,” he continued, his tone steady and calm. “Imagine if someone had snapped a photo of you, half out of it. I didn’t want that. So I brought you here. It’s quiet.”

She nodded slowly, though her head felt unsteady, like it might float away. Her eyes drifted past him to the sitting area, the couch, the low table, an open shelf lined with books, a speaker humming soft music. Everything was tidy but impersonal, like every expensive hotel suite she’d ever pictured.

Her stomach twisted suddenly. She shoved the comforter aside and tried to stand. Her knees buckled, darkness edged in at her vision. She grabbed the bed for balance.

Jayden sprang up, steadying her with a hand on her lower back. “Easy. It’s right through here.” He guided her down a short hallway lined with an open closet, then pushed open a door. The bathroom was big and white, marble tiles, a mirror that ran floor to ceiling.

She nearly dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. Everything came up, bile, alcohol, a sour taste she couldn’t place. Her hands clung to the cold porcelain rim. She didn’t feel his hand anymore, he hadn’t stayed behind her. She was grateful he didn’t watch.

When she finally lifted her head, her reflection stared back, mascara streaked down her cheeks, her hair plastered to her temples, a red scratch on her upper arm she couldn’t place.

She rinsed her mouth under the tap, sipping small amounts until she could breathe again. When she felt steady enough, she shuffled back into the suite, legs weak and shaky.

Jayden was back on the couch. He stood the second he saw her, staying a few steps away, his hands resting loose in his pockets. “Feeling a bit better?”

She shrugged. She didn’t even know what to say. She felt hollow and heavy at the same time. “I guess,” she whispered.

He nodded gently, his eyes flicking to her guitar in the corner, like a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone. He picked up a bottle of water and set it on the nightstand. “Try to get some sleep, okay? Everything’s handled. Your manager knows you’re here. No one’s going to bother you.”

She looked up, searching for her bag, it wasn’t there. Her phone wasn’t on the nightstand either. She opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first.

“I put that aside for now,” he said lightly, a reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You need real rest. No stress about paparazzi. Just you. I’ll get you some coffee, it’ll help clear your head.”

She nodded weakly. He was right. Her mind was foggy, her stomach still a mess.

Jayden grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the couch and walked to the door. He turned back to her once more. “Rest, Luna. I’ll be right back. Don’t open the door for anyone, okay?” He grinned like it was just an innocent joke.

“Okay,” she said softly. She pulled the comforter up over herself again. It still smelled like fresh laundry and something that was just him.

The door clicked shut behind him. She lay there in the quiet, eyes half open, staring at the glass of water on the nightstand. Her guitar stood safe in the corner. The suite was big but didn’t feel unsafe. The thought that he’d been so kind dulled the pounding in her head just a little.

Jayden Storm. The Jayden Storm. He’d looked after her. Holy shit.

She turned onto her side and let her eyes drift closed.