This can't be happening to me.

When you live a life as miserable as mine, you tend to expect the worst. You weigh all your options, which is never much, and choose the one that sucks less. You hold your head low when the universe gives out its blessings, because you know you've already been forsaken. All these things are only to be expected.

But not once do you expect for a murderer to fall for you.

The restlessness has eaten into me like rust to a ship. It feels like I'm constantly being watched now, and knowing what Colt is capable of, I can't be that far from the truth. I can't go a moment without worrying, can't rest at ease without looking over my shoulder.

How can I rest when he knows where I live? Where I work and how I fit my schedule?

Contrary, it seems like Colt is living his best life. I took a walk by the track field yesterday, just in time to see the football team practicing for their upcoming game. Suffice to say, he was the same old loving, outgoing, team-player Colt.

In fact, he seemed more energetic on the field, even going as far as entertaining some of the cheerleaders. As if he hadn't just confessed to ruining Shane's life four days ago.

And the warning he left me. You can't blame me for what happens next if you do. That was as clear a threat as day itself. He purposely handed the reigns over to me, so when I mess up, he'll be there to enact the consequences. Then the blame will lie with me.

He really will murder Shane if I cross the line.

My life has somehow taken a turn for the worst. Jenny was wrong. That wasn't my lowest point. It's this moment right here.

"Ms. Buenavista."

My eyes become focused, and the scene around me comes into view. The career counselor's office.

Mrs. Alitzer gives me a pensive look, as if she's been studying me for a while. "Are you ready to move on?"

I look down at the papers scattered before me. Right, my new major. International business, I've learned, is a great way to travel the world all while learning about different countries and their economy. Right up my alley, isn't it?

And according to Mrs. Alitzer, "It would require an extra school year should you choose to make the switch. Is that alright with you?"

It's just one more dreadful episode on this stupid campus. Why not? I'm just glad that it isn't taking longer to complete the degree, and that's only because I've already satisfied most of the course requirements. It's just down to a couple others.

"That's perfectly fine, Mrs. Alitzer."

The counselor nods, fulfilling my request. Then she prints out a catalog of courses to choose from come next semester. If you get past the bags under my eyes, you can tell how excited I am.

"And I'm aware I'm just a career counselor," Mrs. Alitzer says. "But you should really look after yourself. None of this matters if you aren't healthy."

I guess she must have noticed the dark circles around my eyes. Not much sleep these days, and it has little to do with work and much to do with Colt.

Still, I appreciate her concern. "Thank you. And I'll take the advice."

I greet her goodbye and take my leave. It feels like I've been enclosed in a tomb of some kind, like the space around me is shrinking. What makes it worse is the fact that I have no one to share this with, no way to get this off my chest. Somehow, it feels like Colt is winning.

I just want to feel a little better. I bring my phone out and begin dialing Jenny's number, hopeful that she's available. But she isn't. She's been off the radar these past couple days. I'm guessing some other boy toy of hers.

I sigh and sit in indolence until it's time for work, where I typically man the register. The same old lengthy line filled with the same old faces.

It's soul sucking to say the least. I'm at the receiving end of each complaint, as if it's my fault we're so busy. There's a man who starts hurling out what I'm sure is profanity in his native language. I don't really care or mind it. He's still going to have to wait at the end of the day.

Finally, the line thins out, and at the end of it, I receive a brand new batch of customers. I shouldn't be so surprised seeing Colt or his friends; the café is in the middle of campus. But who I am surprised to see is . . . I forgot her name. Lost wallet. Ginger hair, hazel eyes. It's at the tip of my tongue. Samantha?

Savannah. Last name, forgotten. But she's here with her arm linked around Colt's. Trace, the guy from Jenny's friend's kickback, is here as well. Great.

There's a new guy in the group. Dusty brown hair with eyes the same shade, or perhaps a bit lighter. He holds nothing but irritation in those eyes, with a frown that I'm sure is permanent. What crawled up his ass and died?

"Oh, my God, it's you." Savannah says to me, as if I'm some sort of celebrity. Well, I guess in a way, I am. But I have no clue if she's referring to her wallet or the video of Shane and me.

"It sucks that the entire campus had to see that." Savannah continues.

The video it is. This is just perfect. I give her my best customer service smile, all while trying to ignore Colt beside her. He won't take his eyes off me, not even for a second.

I get Savannah's order down. Next comes Colt. I don't have a smile reserved for him. "What can I get for you today?"

In contrast, Colt smiles. "What do you recommend?"

"We have a brand new option on the menu - Vienna coffee, topped with whipped cream."

He studies the menu a little longer. I know it's him trying to stall so my time will remain his. How tedious. I won't be surprised if he starts swinging by more often.

Finally, Trace's turn comes, and he places an order for a dessert. He even asks me what the difference between a pop-tart and a toaster strudel is. By no means do I expect people to have some high-level IQ. Hell, I'm as average as they come. But Trace is a different case. You could knock on his head and it would echo. I guess I can see why he needs football.

The last in the group steps up. Already, I'm wary of this guy, just from the look on his face alone. He looks about ready to pick a fight. And his nose - he keeps sniffing, like it's itchy or something.

"I'll have a small cup of coffee, black." He tells me.

"Would you like anything else?"

He sticks his brows together. "Did I tell you I wanted anything else?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. He's one of those.

My smile dwindles. I've just about had it with rude customers today. "No, you didn't. Your total will be four dollars and three cents."

He fishes out a couple dollar bills and hands them to me. There are coins as well, and he makes no effort gathering them together. They're all over the place.

What makes it even more irritating is him going back on his word. Apparently, he would like something else. "Add a side of cinnamon creamer to that."

"I'm sorry, we're out of that creamer for now. Would you like anything else?"

I can see his face grow dimmer by the second. This guy isn't at all new to violence. I can tell.

Trace is the one who ends up diffusing the situation. "Come on, Daniel, we're gonna be late."

Daniel looks like he wants to say something else, probably a series of profanity. But he grabs his change off the counter and moves on to the side where his drink is, waiting for him. Then he leaves, along with the rest of the group.

One thing is for certain. I hope I never see that guy ever again.

___

The following day is when my call to Jenny is answered. We meet up at the common area after class, and while I know our last meeting was five days ago, it feels like I haven't seen her in ages.

She looks a bit down. It's unlike her. "Did something happen?"

Jenny sighs and shakes her head. If there is something wrong, she's not doing a very fine job covering it up. "It's just Aaron. Can you believe he wants us to go our separate ways? I mean, what does that even mean, really? He's acting like we were married or something. What a piece of shit."

Ah, option number two. I should have known.

"Well, now you can focus on option number one," I tell her. "You did say you liked him."

She gives me something between a scoff and a laugh. "I like all of them, Dalia. That's precisely why they're all options."

I guess it makes sense. But it must be exhausting entertaining that many men. Jenny doesn't seem to mind it, though.

"I'm tired of looking at all their faces, anyway," Jenny continues. Then she stops and turns to me with a cheeky smile. "Which is why I've been thinking."

"You've been thinking?"

"I've been thinking, since you happen to know Colt Bradshaw, you could hook us up."

My heart stills inside my chest. Then comes the anxiousness again, eating into my gut. She wants to meet Colt. Colt, the murderer. Colt who assaulted Shane with a sledgehammer. I didn't think it could get any worse. It just has.

"Jennifer, I don't think—"

"Come on, please? Just one date."

I swallow down a knot. "I just don't think he's the right guy for you, Jenny. I hear he sleeps with lots of women, and he only has time for football."

Jenny, however, doesn't seem to care. "Well, duh, that's why he's so good at playing. Plus, it's not like I'm asking for a relationship."

"I know, but—"

"We're friends, aren't we?"

I nod slowly.

"Then do me this favor. Unless you have a thing for him or something."

Try the other way around. But that's besides the point. Colt Bradshaw is a murderer.

In the end, I cave in. I wait until the following day when I'm sure Colt is at the Jove diner, towards the back where he usually is.

Colt isn't surprised to me. It seems he never his. I watch for a couple minutes as he sips from a cup of fruit smoothie. He watches me as well, still as cold as ever. I wonder how a person this frigid could have the capabilities of developing romantic feelings.

"What did you say to Shane?" I start. "To get him to hate me so much."

He smiles, shaking his head. "That's not really why you're here, is it, Dalia?"

I don't miss the way he says my name, with some fondness to it. I take a deep breath in. "My friend . . . my friend says she's interested in you."

I'm guessing he can tell how anxious I am, because he chuckles. "Well, good news. I'm not interested."

"Good, then just turn her down—"

"No."

My heart drops once again. "What?"

"She wants you to set us up," Colt says, playing with his straw. "Get to work."

I have to struggle to pull myself together. And I can just tell by that simple smile on his face that he's enjoying this.

"Stay away from her." I tell him. "She hasn't done anything to you!"

Colt sighs. "Why are you assuming I'm going to do something terrible? I just want to feel better. You did turn me down, after all."

I have no clue if he's telling the truth or not. But I don't like this one bit. This is the worst possible outcome.

Soon, Colt leaves, and I'm once again alone, with more barrage of thoughts than I can possibly handle.