I was having a hard time guessing his age; he was a man, of that I was certain. But I couldn’t imagine him being more than twenty-five. His face was young looking, but his eyes were wise.

“Want to go for a coffee?” I asked quickly, before he could end our conversation.

He frowned, trying to be polite. “I really need to get going.”

I panicked wanting to grab his arm, drag him somewhere, and hold him hostage.

Seeing the desperation in my eyes, he softened for a second. "I guess one quick coffee wouldn’t kill me.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I felt my phone going off in my pocket and smiled. “I need to tell my dad where we are going.” I grabbed my phone and sent my dad a message, explaining I had gone for a coffee with a friend to talk about art.

I put the phone back in my pocket, certain my dad was texting me back. I ignored the texts and looped my arm into Aleksander's. I couldn’t fight the urge to squeeze. His body was thick and muscled.

He escorted me from the library, across the street to the café called Cup O’Feelin. It was our local jazz café, the only café.

“So, what are you reading now?” he asked, looking down at me. His gaze burned through me. I felt things a little nerd like me had only ever scoffed at.

“Ancient medicinal practices. It’s riveting,” I replied, smiling. I didn’t watch where I was walking and I didn’t look around me; I walked trusting him. Something about him made me feel protected. I felt healthy again, somehow stronger.

He opened the door for me and waited as I walked through. I only took my eyes off of him for the second it took him to walk in behind me.

Adele was singing on the radio about love and hurting as we walked in. I could smell the coffee and fresh-baked treats. I hungered for something that wasn’t on the menu. I wanted him to touch me. I envisioned him pulling his shirt off and then mine. Then his warm skin would be next to mine. I imagined him soft and smooth but hard under his skin. I blushed, nearly fanning myself, and smiled at the woman at the counter.

She smiled at Aleksander. “Why, hello there. See anything you like?”

I wanted to shout up and down. ‘I do, I do.’

Aleksander never took his eyes off of me. “Whatever the lady is having.”

I smiled, at him and spoke to her, “Soy latté and a lemon tart, please.”

“Lemon for you, as well?”

He nodded and handed the cash to her, but his eyes were locked on me.

We looked like Bambi and Faline, twitterpated, unable to be around normal people. At least, I did. The eye lock was frightening.

I sat down at the table he guided me to and watched him get our coffees and tarts. Lemon tart was normally my favorite treat, but I could barely taste it. I listened to him talk in a way that seemed nervous. I noticed the other women in the room were watching him as intently as I was.

“So, why are you visiting here?”

He smiled. “Maybe this is where I'm from.”

I shook my head. “No way. You’re not from here, so start talking.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I’m not from here.” He laughed and bit into his tart. “I am here for work. Just a couple weeks.”

He started to chew. I had never noticed anyone eat before, except Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven, but this was better. His cheeks and jaw muscles flexed, while his lips glistened with the movement.

I was entranced until the words sunk in. “What—a few weeks? Then where?”

“Back home.” He shrugged.

“Where is home?”

“It’s far away from here. God, this soymilk is disgusting.” He grimaced making me laugh. It seemed like he was relaxing, if only a little.

“It’s an acquired taste. Start with chocolate; it’s easier that way.” Sipping my coffee was hard because my heart was panicking. He had a few weeks and that was it. I needed to know more about him.

“Where are you staying, Aleksander?” I wondered if he liked Aleks better.

“I am staying with the family I’m here helping. When my work with them is over, I will be on my way, unfortunately.”

I frowned, confused. “Are you like a social worker?”

He nodded. “Exactly, like a social worker. I can’t talk about it though—it’s confidential and I take that very seriously.” Again the stern nature was back. He was better at putting up walls than I was.

I noticed for the first time he was wearing a beige shirt with a cross on it. “Are you a Christian?”

He laughed. “I don’t think of it like that. I try not to classify religion that way. I believe in God but maybe not church. The cross on my shirt is mine to bear; that’s the meaning of the shirt.”

I smiled. “I like it. That’s a smart idea. Instead of assuming God and Jesus will save you and you can sin and say sorry for your crimes. This way your crimes are yours and yours alone.”

He lifted his mug up and drank, making a face that made me burst into laughter. I noticed the women in the café were also laughing at his face. I was getting a bit creeped out by the attention he was getting. “Is it always like this?”

He looked around. “What?”

“The women are staring at you. They look like they might attack at any second.”

He smirked his sexy smile at me. “Fresh meat in a small town gets noticed. I could have three arms; to these women all I am is new. How do you feel about the boys in this small town? Do you judge them by the girls they’ve already dated?”

I grimaced. “You have no idea.” I stuffed the last of my tart into my mouth and sucked back my latte. “Let’s go.”

He stood as I did and walked ahead to get the door for me. I loved that about gentlemen. When we were outside again, I nudged against him. “What are you reading?”

He laughed but his eyes bore down on me. “You.”

I sucked my next breath in as my eyes widened. It scared me how intensely I liked him after half an hour.

He nudged me back. “I am reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula, in Romanian.”

I sighed. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shook his head. “Too many to count.”

I had felt proud until he had said that. “I only speak four. But I’m working on my fifth right now.”

“I’m surprised the CIA hasn’t scooped you up yet. You’d be a good spy.”

“You’re obviously not American. I can hear an accent. It's faint and only present on the slightest words. Where are you from?”

He laughed. “You’re very clever for what, eighteen?” He was asking my age. This was a good sign.

I nodded. “I graduate in a few weeks.”

We walked, talking, as the backs of our hands brushed against each other.

“Where will you go after you graduate?”

“University in the city and then stay to work in the city, I guess. No more small towns.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Leaving my dad seemed frightening now that my mom was gone.

“What do you want to be?” he asked, staring out at the sea.

I shrugged. “It was a doctor because I wanted to help people, but recently I went to visit a friend at Children’s Hospital in the city and it broke my heart. Now I’m not sure where I fit.”

As we stopped at the end of the pier, he moved my hair out of my face that the wind had taken off with. “You’re young. You will figure it out.” His tone was filled with remorse and sadness.

I looked up into his eyes. They looked as if they had crystals inside. They sparkled with life. His face was that of a Greek statue from thousands of years earlier, perfect and chiseled. He looked strong—fierce when he stood there by the sea. I could imagine him as a king or great leader. He suited the strength of his name, like a Viking standing at the helm of the Great War ship.

He looked down at me. “You’re getting cold.”

I hadn’t noticed I was getting cold. I had felt great. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I’m still very weak.”

He frowned. “Were you ill?”

I glared at him trying to see if he was serious. “I was drugged at a party. We had this conversation, remember?”

He looked confused. “You were serious?”

I nodded. “Yes. A man date-rape drugged my friend’s drink, and she and I shared it. She is in liver failure now at Children’s. She is the friend I was visiting there.”

He looked very angry and concerned. “That’s disgusting. What happened after you took the drugs?”

I shrugged. “The memories are fuzzy, but we were each found in a pile of vomit, and she was taken to hospital right away. I, apparently, put myself to bed so everyone thought I was fine. But the way I remember it was that you were there, and I was choking, and you saved me by getting the vomit out of my throat. Then you cleaned me up and put me to bed.”

He shook his head. “It must have been a dream. The man who drugged you never got a hold of you though?” He truly almost had me convinced I had dreamed him up.

I shrugged. “We don’t know. We don’t think so. But he’s following me now. He is stalking me. He came after me in the woods.”

"Why were you in the woods?"

I blushed and looked down. "I was looking for you. The place where I saw you before—I was in the woods there."

He grabbed my arms quite firmly, unexpectedly. “You need to be very careful then. You need to stay with other people and stay out of the woods. I can't always protect you.”

I winced. “You’re hurting me.” What did he mean, protect me?

His grip loosened instantly. “Sorry, it just makes me so angry. I can't stand the idea of anyone hurting you. Or you being alone.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that sort of intensity or familiarity, but my cell phone was going wacky in my pocket. “I have to get that.” I pulled the phone out and looked at the dozen messages.