The Stalker

Greg stared at Lucy and felt his heart flutter. That square face with big, black eyes was, for him, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Greg would do anything to kiss that face again, anything. Well that wasn’t strictly true, Greg would actually do nothing. If he’d do anything, he’d go to her right now, take her head in his hands and plant a kiss on those lips. But he didn’t move, he knew he couldn’t do that. He knew if he did that the new boyfriend would then methodically rip him limb from limb while Lucy had a smile on her face enjoying the spectacle of Mr. Perfect putting Mr. Never Should Have Happened in his place.

So Greg just watched the object of his desire from a safe distance and dreamt of the time when their lips did touch, when his fingers caressed her perfect skin and when for one happy moment Lucy gave her body to him.

She really was flawless, that thick brown hair swept back in a pony tail, the sharp nose juxtaposed against the chubby cheeks, the perfect lips that looked like they were hand painted by god himself. Greg thought back to the first time he’d seen her and remembered how it was her eyelashes that had capture his heart, delicate yet powerful, alluring, yes that was the word, alluring.

She was completely unaware of Greg’s prying eyes. She looked cold, sitting with her coat and furry black scarf still on despite being in the warmth of Starbucks. Her coat was Starbuck green, she looked like a perfect advert for the coffee chain. Her face rested on the back of her hand and her eyes scanned the words on the screen of her Kindle app. 

Hacking her iPad had been so easy, but now Greg bitterly regretted having access to Lucy’s beautiful face every time she looked at her screen. Being inside someone’s iPad is like being inside someone’s brain, through email, Twitter, Facebook and iMessage, Greg knew Lucy’s innermost thoughts. Via Google maps he knew her every move and via her webcam he could see her when she first got up in the morning and when she was just going to bed at night. He was with her for every browsing hour.

But he’d not really thought it through, although he loved seeing her beautiful face, it only made his heart ache even more.  But that was the least of his worries.

First there was the revelation that the night that Greg held up as one of the best in his life, Lucy regarded with self-despising regret. When Greg realised the words how could I be so shallow to sleep with such a loser were about him, they cut him to the core, tears rolled down his face.  Was his dick really that small? Was he really so selfish in bed? But if those words hurt, it was nothing to the sick feeling Greg got when Mr. Perfect came on the scene. Greg was firstly privy to flirtatious texts, topless shots, dick pics and then the full-blown sexts and reports of the sexual gymnastics to her friends. Mr Perfect was getting 9s across the board. Even having pics of Lucy naked didn’t make up for the pain of knowing the woman he loved, loved another. But despite it being painful reading, Greg was addicted. Despite the constant heartbreak and constant reminders of his failure, he couldn’t turn away from the hacked screen.

Greg watched Lucy look up and smile. It was a smile that simultaneously made him smile and broke his heart. It was a smile that he’d never been lucky enough to see in the flesh, one she reserved only for Mr. Perfect and that meant he’d come into the café and would soon be kissing Lucy. Lucy put the iPad face down on the table meaning the camera was facing the floor. It was then Greg saw them, the Ugg boots. Greg hated Ugg boots, they were shapeless, styleless nasty; Ugg for ugly. He couldn’t believe someone so beautiful was wearing such dreadful shoes. He made up his mind - it was time to stop the stalking.