On the way home I was getting increasingly hot. Admittedly this was my fault for yet again going out in the midday sun, and for deciding a jacket was definitely needed. It wasn't. My hair was doing what only it knows how to do in such temperatures and my look had gone from, "Hey, I feel quite cool, I'm 21 and the whole world is out there just waiting for me!" to, "Fuck me it's hot. Best get home before I genuinely melt."
At that time the last thing I wanted was to be confronted by an attractive girl who, had I felt less like a drip of water, I may have attempted to coerce. Alas, that is precisely what happened.
She was beautiful, this girl. Long, blonde locks of hair falling gracefully down the back of a summer dress, revealing legs that remind me of why I love certain parts of summer. She stood next to me as we waited to cross the road and I glanced over at her, hoping to catch her eye. I did and she smiled. For a fleeting moment my brain filled with ideas that with my hair looking like a sewer rat I could still pull, but then suddenly she was gone. Whilst I was away in my dream world she had crossed the road, (no green man. I like her attitude,) and was striding away in front of me. She had a brisk walk, I'd know given how much I was looking at her legs, and before I knew it she was a good few meters away from me.
Like a flash I risked my life in pursuit. Ignoring the oncoming cars and the concerned looking old lady coming the other way, I marched out into the road to try and make up some ground. I could still see her, and she looked equally good from the back as she had done the front. I tried to play it cool, not wanting to seem overly keen or, for that matter, end up covered in sweat and put her off completely.
Past the cinema she walked, and I did follow.
Past the bars and the restaurants.
All the time me hoping she'd turn her head, flick her hair and cast me another smile to keep my hopes unusually high. And as we got to the bridge, that's exactly what she did.
Ash you dog, could it be? It's full daylight and she looks completely sober, yet still she seems interested.
This occasional eye flirtation went on for the next five minutes of my journey home.
Then I realised something. Something quite disturbing.
Since the center of town up until the road leading to my own, I had been following this girl.
Every turn she'd taken had been one I needed to take too. Every road she crossed, I crossed. From my naive angle this might have seemed like elaborate foreplay, but the more I thought about it, the more it started to seem like stalking.
Every time she looked at me now I panicked. She was too far ahead for me to tell if she was smiling or if in fact she was looking nervously over her shoulder, hoping her hooded predator with his mangled hair and unshaven stubble had lost her track. He hadn't. He was still there, dragging his over sized feet behind him as he attempted to keep up with her efforts to escape.
Every turn she took, he took too.
Every road she crossed, he crossed.
He kept looking at her with a creepy look on his face. He might have been trying to smile but it was hard to tell when his face was half covered by a hood. Why was he wearing a hood?
In this weather it wasn't needed. The only reason he could have was because he didn't want to be noticed. Why? Because he was a bloody stalker, that's why.
Eventually I found myself thinking, "Ash, stop stalking this girl." I wasn't. It was pure coincidence that she happened to live just minutes way from me, but in the blaze of the heat I was confused. Was I a sexual predator? Was this girl my latest victim?
I was relieved when she went inside a house. It stopped me worrying.
Chances are she didn't think I was following her home, but there was a good amount of time where I did.
Next time I'll take a detour.
Or maybe just not wear a jacket with a hood.