All characters are over 18
*
Every now and then these days I wonder, if I'd never moved away with Mom two years ago, whether my stalker would have snapped and taken me when I was sixteen. Back then, I worked at my local cafe, just a few blocks from my house. The owner, Martin, was a giant adorkable nerd, and hosted gaming nights on weekends. I was never sure what they were. Sometimes there were little metal figures, occasionally weird dice, and at Halloween they even wore costumes.
Martin was friends with most of the guys that came to the gaming nights. That's how I met Jack. He was friendly enough, but he'd stare at me when he thought nobody was looking. I never felt threatened, but it was creepy. He was twenty-seven and had no business staring at a teenager, or trying to add me on social media, or stand a bit too close whenever he was around with his gigantic frame that dwarfed most people in the vicinity, let alone me. When I told Martin how uncomfortable Jack made me, he laughed and said he was strange, but harmless. And he'd have a quiet word and tell him to back off.
Not long after that, my parents broke up, and I moved away with Mom. She'd always been the strict parent and kept me well under her thumb. When I graduated high school and turned eighteen, I called my dad and asked if I could move back in with him. I wanted to take a gap year. Not just to decompress after two years of unfiltered Mom. I wanted to spend some time with him before I went out into the big, bad world. Once I figured out what I should do with my life, anyway.
Dad still lived in the family home, though he had to work ridiculous hours to keep it, driving dangerous goods long haul all over the country for the extra cash. Mom had taken so much, and I was determined to help, even if it was just some warm meals and conversation.
He would come back on Monday mornings, exhausted and almost dead on his feet. I'd make him a cup of coffee and chat with him while he wound down, taking his bag and doing his laundry while he slept. The three nights he was home were a joy though, finally getting to know him as a person instead of my father, and I began hating Thursdays when he'd leave.
But I still had the cafe. The day after I'd come home, I waltzed in pretending to be an irate customer and demanded to speak to the manager. Martin walked out of the office and started laughing the moment he saw me. An hour later, I had my old job back. Weekend days and Sunday game nights. It wasn't a lot of money, but enough that I could coast for a while, and also meant I didn't lose any time with Dad.
My first shift felt like being a kid again. Some regulars even remembered me, and the gaming nights were still nerdy as ever.
A month flew by, and my old friendship with Martin was like I'd never left. He told me all about his nerdy girlfriend and how well we'd get along, and I told him about living with Dad and how hard he worked, and how glad I was to have something to do on the weekends. Even if it was work.
Life was great. And I wished I could keep it in a tiny perfect bubble of happiness.
Life doesn't work that way, I guess.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and the cafe had closed an hour earlier. Martin and I moved all the tables ready for game night, and I was finishing the last of the day shift clean up. The doors were shut, rattling occasionally as the guys arrived. I'd say hello and sometimes have a quick chat, but I was mostly just keen for my dinner break.
"Mel?" I heard from behind me, and I turned. Jack. The same hulking frame, gorilla-chested and staring with his pale hooded eyes. I hadn't seen him since I'd come home, assuming with relief that he'd moved out of town, and I suppressed my sigh of annoyance as he grinned broadly. "It
is
you! All grown up."
My smile was fake and thin when he enfolded me in a hug, pressing his body up against mine. The echoes of all the moments I caught him staring when I was younger came roaring back, and I squirmed away when it didn't seem like he would ever let go. "Hey Jack, how've you been?"
"Oh, you know, working, surviving. I just got back from sorting out my grandparent's estate. When I called Marty, I couldn't believe it when he said you were around. How long are you in town for?"
"Uh, kind of a gap year thing, without all the expensive European travel. I'm not sure what I want to do yet."
"So you'll be around? Cool. I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."
"Oh. Yeah. Great."
We were apparently on hugging terms from then on. Always a little too long, and far too close. Have you ever noticed how hugs are usually just shoulders and maybe upper chest? Jack would press his whole body into mine, curving his frame around me. A couples hug. I hated it, but kept telling myself not to judge. He showed up at the gaming nights each weekend without fail and even started coming in early. And still watched my every move. I tried to shrug it off, but there was something...
Martin joked a few times that I should date him, and I laughed. I mean, Jack wasn't bad looking, he was just strange, and way too old for me. Even if I did like him, even the idea of having a first boyfriend eleven years older than me felt weird. Not to mention, when Martin made the joke, the shuddering disgust that ran down my spine.
The days and weeks marched on, and I fell into the routine of slower life in my hometown. At Dad's insistence, I enrolled into some online courses, to keep my brain in study mode, and figure out what I wanted to do. My ancient computer struggled with the gentle usage, and I wondered if I should start saving for a laptop.
The old beast gave up the ghost one Saturday after work when I was in the middle of an assignment. The course wasn't accredited, and I'd been doing it mainly because it sounded cool, but losing my essay pissed me off nonetheless. It was only the next day, at the end of gaming night, when I realized Martin probably knew someone who could fix my computer, or at least pronounce it dead. We were packing up while the stragglers lingered, reliving the epic battles they'd just fought, keeping my body and gaze angled away from where Jack was still sitting. He was always the last to leave.
"Hey Martin, my computer died. Do you know anyone who could look at it?" I said, as we moved the tables back to their usual spots. "Maybe not too expensive. I'm still saving for college."
"Hmm, how about-" Martin started.
"I can fix it," said Jack, looking up from where he was stuffing his nerdy ephemera into his backpack. "I'm the IT guy for a bunch of places around here."
Martin grinned. "There you go," he said, and gave him a sly glance. "And Jack will totally help you out for free, right?"
"Absolutely," Jack said, an expression I couldn't decipher flashing over his face. "Or a trade. I hear you paint?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," I said. He made me uncomfortable, but Martin seemed to trust him. Maybe I was being paranoid. I gave him my address, and he promised to drop by the following afternoon to pick up my computer.
When the doorbell rang a little after five thirty the next day, I scampered downstairs and hoped it hadn't woken Dad. I opened the door, and Jack's enormous frame filled it, and he grinned as a bolt of unease flared in my guts.
