Lyla went into her phone and blocked Keenan again. The RAP-RAP-RAP on her bedroom door momentarily petrified her.

"Dinner time," her dad called from the hallway.

"Not hungry," she squeaked.

He pushed open the door. "I made your favorite. Lasagna. Come on."

She knew that is was pointless to fight this battle so she followed him down the stairs.

Ryan set a serving of lasagna before her then cut a portion for himself.

She tasted a small forkful. "Mmmmmm. Good."

"Not like your mother's lasagna. I follow her recipe to the T every time I make it. But it's just not the same."

She lowered her eyes.

Her dad's tone shifted. "So... about the car. I couldn't afford to have it towed from all the way out there. Hell, the tow would have cost more than the thing was worth. So, I got seventy-five bucks for it."

She sighed.

He wiped a dab of tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth. "I thought you said Darcy was driving to the party."

"She was, but then she ended up doing something else, so..."

Ryan shook his head. "So, you're right back where you started. No car."

She took a small bite of lasagna and chewed slowly.

"Maybe you can get more hours at the diner, and start saving up again."

Lyla dropped her fork onto her plate and pushed away from the table. "Thanks for dinner. Gotta get ready for work."

When she crossed to the stairs, Lyla caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the window of the front door. She reached for the doorknob but stopped short, overcome by a strong sensation, a feeling that something vile was waiting for an opportunity to force its way inside.

The figure on the front porch stood motionless. She could hear him breathing. She withdrew her hand and backed away from the door.

"Something the matter?" Her dad called from the kitchen.

She kept her eyes on the shadowy figure. It didn't move an inch. Ryan approached.

"I think someone's on the porch," she said in a shaky voice. "Don't--"

Before she could issue her warning, Ryan opened the door.

"No one there," he said, turning and narrowing his eyes. "You okay?"

"Fine." She climbed the stairs, hoping that whatever was on the porch hadn't sneaked inside.

A short time later, Lyla stepped into the shower. The water ran hot. She tilted her head back and worked the shampoo through her hair. As the steam rose, she relaxed, and let her thoughts drift.

She envisioned Jack's sun-washed, chiseled face, and his warm hypnotic eyes. She felt his lips pressing softly against hers. She became aroused by his taste, the sensation of his strong arms holding her tightly against his hard-muscled chest.

She fantasized flicking his mouth with the tip of her tongue then gently biting his lower lip. She imagined him pulling her into a passionate kiss that weakened her knees.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. When she turned toward the mirror, she was jolted by a message written in the condensation.

YOU LEFT ME.

She wiped it away with a trembling hand.

"Not real," she whispered to herself. "It's in your head."

She trotted through the hallway to her bedroom, dressed quickly, then brushed her hair into a wet ponytail.

TAP. TAP.

Lyla jumped. A blackbird had perched on her windowsill.

Scared the crap out of me.

She waved her arms.

The bird watched her with its cold yellow eyes. She started for the door but stopped in her tracks. There on the floor was her gray-striped top

What the hell?

..........................................................................................

Before she went into the diner to begin her shift, Lyla darted down the alleyway adjacent to the weathered brick building. She held her breath and tossed the gray-striped top into the dumpster. A cloud of garbage-stink wafted out of the dumpster when she dropped the heavy metal lid closed.

Throughout her shift that evening, she was consumed by thoughts of Keenan's harassing texts, the creepy blackbird watching her through her bedroom window, and whatever her dad had accidentally let into the house to torment her with the cursed gray-striped top.

She turned off her phone and busied herself with greeting customers, taking orders, and bringing food and drinks to tables and booths.

Near the end of her shift, Lyla pocketed a few dollars left as a tip and collected the dirty plates and silverware. As she wiped the surface of the table, she glanced at a college couple nestled in a booth in the back corner of the diner. The chest of a pretty coed rose and fell as she fiercely kissed her lover whose hand had made its way to her thigh.

Lyla imagined herself in Jack's car, her heart thundering as he opened the first button of her shirt. She felt a warmth in her belly that was more than a yearning. She blushed, embarrassed by her infatuation with wanton desire.