"Please."

"Nope."

"Camille!"

"Iggy. No."

"Ugh, I don't understand why you won't come with us. This place is so swanky, and it's fall break so all the hot, college trust fund babies will be home. We can find you a decent guy. Definitely better caliber than the slop you meet at the Green Knight."

I put my phone between my shoulder and ear as I folded my laundry. Cold rain fell outside the big, bay window of my cozy living room- the droplets obscuring my view of the town square. Best weather for napping in my opinion, but I hated to waste a day off in bed. Not that I could accomplish much in this torrential downpour, but the weatherman promised the sun would make an appearance by early afternoon.

Hopefully, the weatherman was right for once. Today was the first day of the Harvest Festival, and I loved wandering from booth to booth. Hot cider spiced the air, mingling with the sugary scent of kettle corn and fresh pork rinds. Crafts ranging from cute to cheesy would hang from wire racks and awning edges, pieces of cloth and straw fluttering in the fall breeze. The town square would be a hive of activity, the hum one of crunching leaves and happy chatter.

Rain wouldn't stop the Festival. Merchants would move their wares inside, and the people without shops would set up beneath covered walkways. But what was cheerful on a sunny, brisk day was dreary when the few people brave enough to venture out had to huddle so close together you could name their deodorant brand. And that was when people chose to wear antiperspirant. If people stank in the summertime, it was nothing compared to folks wearing three layers and coats that hadn't been washed in years.

"Camille would you please just reconsider? You know you don't get to see Tristan often, and you certainly don't get to see him in a suit."

She waited for a response, but all she received was my exasperated sigh.

"Just think of how handsome Gavin will look."

Considering the man was drool worthy when he was up to his elbows in fryer grease, her comment was the only thing needed to get my heart thumping. While Iggy had drawn me into her little family of two, my boss had kept his distance. I'd appreciated it three years ago. Not so much these days.

I shook out a t-shirt. What would I do if Gavin ever made a move? I may not jump at every shadow any longer, but I doubted my ability as a good judge of character. After all, Anton had fooled me with his charming compliments and manners for months before revealing his true nature. What if Gavin kept his distance because he wasn't smooth enough to his personality defects?

"I'm sure he'll be dashing, but that's not really my thing," I'd loved dressing up in gowns and dancing, but my answer was still the same. "Y'all go have fun. I'm going to enjoy my first real day off in weeks."

"Ugh fine. I'll snapchat you pictures all evening, so you'll be driven insane with jealousy."

"I'm counting on it." The curve of my lips was genuine. Iggy might be exhausting most of the time, but I always knew where I stood with her. And I loved it.

Laundry went much faster once the phone call ended, and I was shocked to see the rain had diminished. The sun was even struggling to peer between the drab clouds. The weatherman had finally gotten something right. I glanced at my watch and laughed. It was 10:45 A.M. He was close enough to get an A for effort.

I made myself put away all my clothes, leaving out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a fitted, scoop neck, burgundy sweater. The outfit would pair nicely with my well-worn, black motorcycle jacket and black, ankle boots.

Stopping in front of the mirror hanging in my entry way, I pulled my blonde waves into a messy braid and swiped on a plum lip gloss. Even after three years, the face staring back seemed strange and unfamiliar, but the mask I wore was the key to my continued safety. Though, not for the first time, I considered altering my features. Shaking my head at my vanity, I tossed the gloss into my small purse and locked the door behind me.

Camille Vance may not turn as many heads as the girl I'd hidden, but she'd managed to attract her fair share of admirers. Not that I wanted that kind of attention. I'd chosen a face that didn't stand out- that was neither plain nor beautiful. Just an average single girl trying to make it on her own.

"You still working in that den of sin?" Mrs. Rattery, my elderly lady first floor neighbor asked as I strolled towards the exit. She was unlocking her apartment door, a small bag of groceries clutched in blue veined hand.

I flashed her a bright smile. "Yes ma'am. Keeps a roof over my head."

She frowned, the wrinkles around her thin deepening. "A good girl like you should be in college. Learning how to earn money respectably until she finds a husband."

"How very forward thinking of you." The statement was always the same as my response was always the same.

"I know my dear. I try to keep up with the times."

I hit the cobblestone pavement with a smile before a heavy gust of wind wiped it clean off my face. My body trembled at the sudden chill.

First stop was the coffee shop. With this weather, a hot, dirty chai latte with a mound of fresh whipped cream sounded heavenly. Toes curling in my boots as I anticipated the delightful rush of creamy espresso, cinnamon, and ginger on my taste buds, I turned towards the Java Joint--only to find myself wearing the very object of my fantasy.

"Holy crap," I shouted as milk, expertly steamed to 160 degrees soaked through my sweater. Beneath the fabric of my sweater, a violent red welt marred the pale skin of my stomach. I pressed cool fingertips against the burn, grateful to find no blisters forming.

"Are you okay?" Large, tan fingers joined mine in their perusal for damage. Rough skin scraped against scalded, sensitive skin.

"I'm fine," I snapped, jerking back in dismay and pulling my shirt back down. I wasn't quick to anger, but fear fueled my temper. "Do you not watch where you're going?"

The following masculine snort drew my attention upwards. Sunglasses covered his eyes and a scarf hid the lower half of his face. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by expensive cashmere. "I imagine we're both at fault for this little incident."

"And why would you say that?" Even my words shivered. The heat from the spilled drink had dissipated, and the damp spot felt like ice against my stomach.

"If I was looking, I'd have avoided you. If you were looking, you would have avoided me. So, as is usually the case in such collisions, we are both at fault."

"Well," I spluttered, his logic disrupting my planned tirade. "Just be careful."

I stomped off, fingers shoved deep in my pockets and eyes glued to the ground. We'd drawn the attention of a small crowd, and while most of the curious faces belonged to locals, I wasn't in a hurry to stick around for more unfamiliar ones.

"Camille," Katerina chirped from behind the counter as I entered the coffee shop. Jack O' Lanterns with jagged smiles decorated tabletops and shelves, and the neon summer chalk on the menu board had been replaced with orange, purple, and acid green. Earrings shaped like bats hung from the barista's tiny ears, and her name badge was in the shape of a witch's hat. "Hot or cold?"

"Hot," I answered, knowing that was all the info she needed. Katerina brewed coffee by day and served cocktails by night. Her memory rarely failed her.

"Did you see that handsome piece that just walked out of here," she asked, handing me paradise sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. "He ordered the same thing you did."

"Tall? Expensive taste in scarves?"

"Yeah," Katerina sighed, pressing her chiseled cheek into her palm and twirling a silky, sable extension. Her green eyes were heavy with wanting as they peered through the tinted glass of the storefront.

"I did, in fact, see him. We actually exchanged words."

"What," she shrieked, drawing the attention of the few customers remaining in the shop. Pouting, she darted to the front of the counter and plopped onto a stool beside me. "I practically threw myself at him, and he just smiled and thanked me. He tipped well."

"That's something," I murmured, my opinion of the stranger elevating slightly. Those of us who paid our bills with tips could wrestle up at least a smidgen of respect for someone who tipped well.

"Come on," she prodded.

"There's really not that much to tell," I answered. "We ran into each other and he spilled his coffee all over me. He made a few clever remarks, and we parted ways."

"I really don't get you sometimes," she said. Like Mrs. Rattery, her words were not new. I was younger than Katerina, or so I assumed, by a few years. Where Iggy had taken it upon herself to be a mother figure, Katerina behaved much like I imagined a sister would. A very reckless, boy crazy sister who couldn't understand my reservation regarding the male half of the population. Not that I was trying to clarify my reasons.

"I couldn't even see what he looked like," I replied, flushing as I remembered the feel of his roughened fingertips brushing against my skin. The heat that spread through me was only half due to the spilled drink, but I wasn't about to admit that.

"Lips like Chris Pine, jawline Chris Evans, eyes like Chris--" she began.

"I get it," I laughed. "Just imagine all the Chrises had a love child?"

"Pretty much."

"I'm going to leave you to your day dreams. I'm going to check out the booths."

"If you run into that man candy, you offer to buy him a replacement drink."

I scoffed. "Hardly. He needs to buy me a new sweater. Bye."

I barely missed the towel Katerina snapped at me. Spirits renewed by the caffeine in my veins, I headed out, determined a little thing like a shirt stain would not ruin what was shaping up to be a Hallmark Card-worthy autumn day.

I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with other locals and perusing the offerings of the Festival. Mostly the food options. Caramel apple, kettle corn, pork rinds, homemade fudge, candy corn, turkey legs... I even managed to find a wreath for the front door: a Thanksgiving circlet of brightly colored fall leaves, big enough that I could cram in some cheerful pumpkins and a green witch each time Halloween rolled around.

The days were becoming shorter, and the sun was disappearing behind buildings and trees by five, setting a fire of orange, red, and yellow across the horizon. With the sun, went the little warmth, and clouds in the sky hinted that more rain was forthcoming. I shivered and amended that thought. The first snow of the season might arrive if the temperatures continued to plummet. It would be a bit earlier than usual, but I wouldn't complain. The charming village outside my bay window was even more magical dusted with a layer of fresh powder.

"Bout to close up shop, Camille. I've got a funnel cake with your name on it."

Groaning, I waddled over to Geoff Walters. He was somewhere between the ages of old enough to be my father and too young to be my grandfather. Never married, he spent many of his evenings slumped in the shadows with a pint and a cigar. He'd sing along with the band and chat with whomever wandered by, always keeping a wary eye out for visitors with lecherous hands.

I looked over the carvings he brought to the Festival every year. His skill was known throughout the state, and while most of what he sold was special order, he always brought us his favorite pieces to sell. I picked up a small mountain lion figurine. Birthed from Black Walnut, the flanks of the big cat almost seemed to be heaving as she stalked some unseen prey. Her ears were pulled back, and her tail was frozen mid flick. The wood grain swirled and shimmered throughout the piece, and Geoff had attached small golden gems in the eye sockets, giving the creature an unearthly appearance.

"You just get better and better," I muttered, setting the carving down and taking the proffered funnel cake.

"At carving or frying up dough," he jested. His leathery skin crinkled with his smile, and his amber eyes twinkled with mirth.

Feeling a surge of gratitude for the people in my town-- people like Geoff, who reminded me that not everyone was as depraved as Anton and his cohorts-- I popped a hot piece of the cake into my mouth. "I think the jury is still out. I can't ever decide which one you're better at."

"Ah come on now. If that was the case, you'd have made a stop here first thing."

I hung my head in mock shame. "I started on the opposite end this time, and I swear the Festival has doubled in size this year."

"I'm just joking with you girl. You always make your way to me, and I've always got a funnel cake ready."

I dropped another piece of fried goodness into my mouth, the powdered sugar melting against my tongue. At the rate I was going, I'd have to adjust my waist or buy new jeans.

"You seem to be packing up early?"

"It's a bit too cold for me this evening, and I've sold several large pieces. Weather permitting, I'll be back tomorrow with another truck load."

"Good, I'd be sad if I didn't see your smile out here."

"Ah, you see enough of this old man at your workplace."

"Never," I said while slipping a five-dollar bill beneath the mountain lion. He wouldn't take my money, and I was too proud to let him give it to me for free. I would've loved to purchase the beautiful feline, but even a carving that small cost more than my rent. And I knew if I told him how much I liked it, he'd lower the price to some absurd amount. I was already indebted to more people than I liked, and I wouldn't add Geoff to the list.

"I'll see you later," I told him, turning back towards my apartment before nightfall made off with what was left of the light.

My phone chimed in my pocket, and I fished it out with sticky fingers. I had three new Snapchats from Iggy, and a text from Katerina. A video of Iggy and her husband Tristan filled the screen. Her chestnut hair was slicked back into a low, elegant ponytail and draped over her tan shoulder. Her strapless, green dress glittered beneath a softly lit chandelier; the garment split midway down her thigh. Tristan had an arm wrapped around her waist. Even after all their years together, he couldn't keep from sneaking peeks while they smiled into the camera.

"You're missing out," he admonished, flashing a dimple as he grinned. Even in a tux, he exuded boyish charm, his sandy hair a mess of tousled curls that frustrated Iggy to no end.

"Girl, the appetizers are amazing. You still have time to gussy up."

The video ended, and a still image replaced it. An expertly charred steak and asparagus drizzled in butter filled a plate of fine china. The final video consisted of Tristan being pushed around a dancefloor by an elderly woman while Iggy giggled in the background.

A wistful sigh escaped. From the moment Iggy told me about the party, a charity event hosted by the firm that employed Tristan, I'd imagined the dress I'd wear and the food I'd eat. I remembered the feel of silk against my skin and the taste of wine that only ridiculous amounts of money could purchase. But that was the world where my nightmare lived, and I couldn't risk returning to it. Not even with this face.

I replayed the Snaps and took a screenshot of Iggy and Tristan clinging to one another. A heavy weight settled in my chest as I looked at the happy couple, but I pushed it away. I wouldn't tarnish what they shared by dredging up my own experiences as a comparison.

A clatter of metal crashing into brick drew my attention away from my phone. The sidewalks, while less crowded than before, still teamed with visitors and shoppers. Cafe lights lit the square with a soft glow, and music trickled from the craftily hidden speakers. The sound could have come from someone taking out the trash. Ignoring the prickling between my shoulders, I moved on.

The noise was louder the next time, and a muffled shout joined the clamor. I stopped. The shop on the left, Sew Easy, was cloaked in darkness and the door displayed a closing time of four on Saturdays. Shoppers could be seen through the window of the store on the right- Charms and Chants.

"Hello," I called from the end of the path, my eyes darting across the area as I scanned for a sign of a struggle. A gust of wind howled through the passageway, but no one answered my call. Two tidy trash cans were pushed up against the wall, the metal lid of one resting on the ground in front of it. That- along with a strong wind- would explain the loud noise.

With my lip drawn between my teeth, I hurried to the trash cans and secured the lid. The tremble in my hand was from the cold, not the barely suppressed fear that was my constant companion in life. It had to be. Under most circumstances, I would've just kept on walking. My sense of self-preservation had long ago overridden my sense of moral obligation to strangers, but this alley hit a little too close to home.

I scanned the area one last time. A strange ripple hovered near the trash cans, like water disturbed by a current. Squinting, I tried to make the disturbance fade, but the longer I stared, the more obvious it became.

"How strange," I muttered as I reached for it. The phone in my hand buzzed causing me to shriek. A picture of Katerina blowing a kiss took up the screen. Swiping to answer, I moved back to the street but never removed my eyes from the wrinkle. "Hey."

Her effervescent voice washed over me, cleansing the fear from my system. I let her babble away until I reached my building. Conversation with her was easy. A few well-placed exclamations were all she needed to continue prattling on about the handsome stranger who had returned for a new cup of coffee.

I opted for the stairs to my fourth-floor abode. I required a lot of calories to continue my facade, but even I had to admit that a little exercise was necessary after all the junk food I'd consumed.

"Well, did she have a ring on?" I questioned, stopping to catch my breath on the third floor. Katerina's mood had soured since spotting her new crush wandering through the square with a woman. "Sounds like he's fair game then. At least, according to the rules you've explained to me."

I paused at my door to hang my new wreath, attaching the Halloween decorations in the center. Satisfied with my purchase, I opened the door and tossed my keys into the tiny bowl perched nearby on a side table. My living room was warmly lit by a set of rustic lamps I kept on a timer, ice crystals coating the glass, sparkling wherever the streetlights hit.

"Look," I told my her, "just call Kayla and ask if any handsome men have checked in recently. You know she'll tell you." I didn't typically condone violating the privacy of our town's visitors, but I was eager to get off the phone. And Katerina wasn't going to give this up.

"Yes, I know it's a good idea. That's why I suggested it. Yes, of course I want to know what you find out. I'll talk to you later."

Dropping my phone on the couch, I stood before the window. The rain had turned to a wintry mix, but the weather hadn't cleared the square. People piled out of the stores and restaurants. They stood with their faces upturned and arms widespread. Children on little, plump legs darted amongst the adults, their high-pitched squeals of delight carrying up to my home.

The glass fogged where my nose pressed against the chilled surface. Lovers embraced and laughed as the intensity of the mix increased. Flakes were beginning to hold tight to metal surfaces, but the ground melted the ice as quickly as it touched. Hats and scarves would be sodden soon, but no one seemed to care. They were lost in the experience.

How easy it would be to grab a scarf and gloves and join them. No one would question my presence. I'd be swept up in the excitement, invited for an evening meal, and treated like family. But I couldn't. For as welcome as everyone had made me feel in Avalon, I had to keep up a barrier. One mistake, one word on the wrong set of lips, and I'd be running. But, this time, I had nowhere to go.

The tip of my pointer finger made meaningless loops and swirls through the condensation, coming to a crashing stop as the cleared glass revealed a motionless figure amongst the crowd. Like the others, his face was lifted, but it seemed his eyes were trained on the upper portion of my building. I placed one hand against the coffee stain on my sweater.

He could've been looking at anything. I was safe.

My bedroom beckoned, as did my pajamas. Donning a pair of flannel pants and a baggy t-shirt, I slipped icy toes into my favorite pair of house shoes. My discarded sweater lay on the floor. The stain was stiff, and the fragrance of stale coffee filled my nostrils. Thanks to its dark color, perhaps it was salvageable.

Dropping it on the bed, the bedroom window drew my attention. The apartment was a corner unit, meaning my bedroom had windows on two sides, one of which faced the same direction as my living room window. Heavy white, blackout drapes hung over them to keep out the morning light. Late work nights meant I slept in most mornings, and the faintest trace of sunlight across my face was enough to drag me from a peaceful slumber. I padded to the window facing the town square and tugged the curtain back.

The mixture had turned to heavy snow. The only remaining people in the streets hurried to their vehicles and homes, scarves pulled up around mouths and ears to protect from the cold. No sign of the watcher remained but the feeling that he was out there lingered.

Somewhere in the shadows. Watching. Waiting.