Cat and Mouse

A Short Story by Gasybeans.
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You scare me. You probably already know that. Do you remember that day when I first noticed you?

You were looking at me, taking in the small framed, curvy girl in her sheer white tank top and cuffed denim shorts. Your jaw clenched tightly as your eyes linger on my lean, moisturized, newly waxed, tan legs that had been accented by those awfully high wedges. You knew that I saw you, yet you had no shame.

Your gray eyes met mine in that bookstore that day. Had it not been roasting outside, do you think I still would have been dressed in such a way that brought you pleasure? Maybe. I guess you knew that. You already knew me, yet I knew nothing of you.

That last sentence is true, for sure. Just like how you already knew that I would be there that day, looking for that exact book you had in your hand. You watched me as I uncomfortably walked over to the British Literature shelf. You never once took your eyes off of me. You knew that I was afraid, and that I wouldn’t find the book. Is that why you came over so silently extending your hand to me with the book in your hand?

“Looking for this?” You had asked me.

You held my skeptical gaze at you and you smiled. Your gray eyes were beautiful and rare. I guess you knew that I like rare things too. You thought it was fun, didn’t you? Scaring me, that is. I shook my head at you, but I needed that book and you knew it. You knew that it belonged to my late mother. You knew everything.

You grabbed my wrist to place the book in my hand, but I quickly pulled away before you could do it and the book fell on your toe. Sorry, about that. It was rude of me, I guess. I ran away from you, but you did not chase after me - not at first. The doorbell jingled when I got outside facing the heat again. I turned around and there you stood, staring at me through the glass with those gray eyes, aged with time and pain. You watched me walk away, but you knew I wouldn’t get very far.

It was hot, much too hot in this empty town. Dehydration ensued as the saliva in my mouth ceased to produce. You were waiting for me in that diner. You had driven ahead and I did not see you. You handed me a glass of cold water. I drank it all and you smiled as you watched the sweat on my skin glisten and the water in my mouth spilling over. You knew I was too desperate to care. You offered to buy me a glass of lemonade, my favorite summer beverage. I declined. But you ordered one anyways, a sparkling one. When it was ready, you walked over to the counter and grabbed it for me. You saw me analyzing the carbonated beverage with my gaze. Then, you saw me look at you.

You had bluish-gray eyes and they were beautiful. You looked to be in your 40s, old enough to be my dad. Your brown hair was beginning to gray and the structure of your face told me that you were quite a stud in your younger years. You still kind of were. You smiled at me again, and this time I noticed your dimples.

I took the cup in my hand and you watched me as I brought it closer to my mouth. You knew I couldn’t resist. I was much too thirsty. I drank it all and it was refreshing. You smiled as let out a sigh of satisfaction. I thanked you for the drink and quickly sat up, but something was wrong. You had anticipated it coming. You planned it after all.

I felt dizzy and nauseated. I felt your cold, strong arms swoop me up before I fell. The owner expressed concern but you told him you would take care of it and bring me to the hospital. You told them I was dehydrated, that was all. I bet you enjoyed that, looking like a hero in front of all those people. You fooled them, the same way you fooled me. How did you do it? You looked at me with those eyes and smiled when you realized that my sight was blurred. You whispered something.

“Never take anything from a stranger.” But you weren't a stranger, were you?