I Have an Invisible Stalker (Guardians #1)

Chapter 2

Olivia's POV

The moment I round the same corner as the stranger I find myself faced with a dead-end that ends with a single door. I grab the door handle, but no matter how many times I try to push it down, it remains in a horizontal position.

While I'm sure that the stranger rounded this corner and didn't come back out, there is no sign of him having ever been here.

I kick the locked door and immediately regret the action as a blinding wave of pain shoots up my ankle. Definitely not the smartest thing to do, even if my foot is wrapped in a protective cast. I glare at the door and try the handle again, but it still refuses to move.

With a huff in resignation, I turn around and then hop back in the direction I came from. As I round the corner of the dead-end hallway I steal another glance behind, but the door remains stubbornly closed. So much for finding out who the stranger is.

Halfway back to my hospital room I'm met with Mom's flared nostrils and hands resting on her hips. Thankfully she doesn't have the flowers anymore, though.

"Were you even listening to me?" She begins the moment I stop a couple of safe steps away from her.

"Of course I was." I lift one of the crutches off the ground and shake it. "That's what the crutches are for."

"What was so urgent this time? Did you see someone famous?"

"No." I shake my head and shift my cast-wrapped foot to soften the ache of my protesting muscles. "I caught a stranger looking at my hospital chart, so I tried to find out who he is, but he ran away before I could." I glare at the hallway behind me to check if the stranger has reappeared, but all I'm met with is a standard hospital-staff-filled hallway.

"This is not the time to be chasing boys. You can do that when you're not injured anymore." Mom lets out a long sigh. "Let's just get out of here before you manage to hurt yourself even more."

"Finally," I sigh and use the crutches to propel me a giant step forward.

Wordlessly we make our way out of the hospital and along the side of the building until we reach the nearest bus stop. A single small bench is positioned beside the bus schedule, but I don't even have time to sit before the bus arrives. Mom pays for both of us, while I limp down the bus's length toward the nearest empty seat.

While Mom sits beside me, I keep my eyes focused on the rest of the passengers who get onto the bus after us. Because everyone is wearing the same boring expression, I'm about to turn to the window beside me. But then my eyes land on the second to last passenger who gets onto the bus.

The stranger from the hospital.

He still has the sleeves of his gray sweater rolled up to his elbows and the same silver chain hanging from the side of his jeans. What catches most of my attention though, is the fact that he walks straight past the bus driver without ever pausing. Or more importantly without paying a single dollar.

The strangest thing of all, though, is that no one—and I mean absolutely no one—protests to what he does. They simply pretend like he never entered the vehicle. Even the driver doesn't call him back, or better yet throws him off the bus.

I tap my finger against the rubber edge of the window beside me, while the stranger positions himself a few feet away from us and grabs onto the black handle swaying above his head. Inside my head, I will him to turn toward me, but his eyes only briefly land on me. The moment his caramel brown meets my black he immediately averts his eyes. Then for the rest of the ride, he doesn't glance at me again, despite me glaring straight at him.