These Boots Are Made for Stalking by Lisi Harrison Page A

puppies trotted into the doghouse, and the screen went black. Then a grainy, dim image of a puppy paw invaded
     the screen.
    She was in.
    “Yesssss!” Massie leaned forward, squinting at the screen like Kendra squinted at
Vogue
when she misplaced her reading glasses. Fuzzy claws scraped and scratched at the camera lens, completely obstructing Massie’s
     view of anything Landon-related.
    “Baaaaark,” Massie moaned. “Quit messing with your collar!”
    Bean lapped at the screen, leaving behind a trail of drool.
    “Ewwwww,” Massie giggle-chided her puppy as she swiped the drool away with the sleeve of her robe.
    Seconds later, the camera dropped to the floor, leaving Massie with the same view of Landon’s room she’d have if she were
     in downward-facing dog position in yoga class. She leaned closer, the tip of her nose almost smudging the screen. Unexpectedly,
     she was drenched with a fresh wave of adoration for her crush. Landon’s room confirmed what she already knew: that he was
     meant for her. The John Mayer Trio poster over his bed proved he was poetic. The olive-green duvet and 600 thread-count (give
     or take) sheets said he was stylish enough to care about home decor, but the chocolate brown throw pillows strewn haphazardly
     across the bed said he didn’t care too much. And the Prada sneakers peeking out from under his bed screamed
style, style, style
.
    Then the screen went black.
    “Ehmagawd!” Massie gripped the sides of her laptop screen and shook it like an Etch A Sketch. A drool-slicked pink tongue
     and a mouthful of tartar-stained teeth appeared as the camera twisted and turned, making Massie feel queasy.
    “Bark!” she screeched at the screen. Bean shot to the foot of the bed, chasing her tiny tail in frantic circles. “Do NAWT
     eat the SnoopDawg! Bad puppy! Bad!”
    As if he could hear her desperation, Bark spat out the camera, and the drool-soaked lens bounced and rolled into the middle
     of Landon’s room. Massie fell back onto her pillows, exhausted. A chilly breeze from her cracked bedroom window wafted past
     her lavender curtains and over her bed. She burrowed deeper beneath her duvet, keeping her eyes on the screen.
    A pair of Puma Black Labels and dark-wash denim–covered ankles crossed in front of the camera. Massie shot upright again.
    “Landon!” she squealed, her heart revving beneath her ribs as the camera teased her with a tiny taste of her crush. From the
     expertly faded wash around the hem of his jeans, Massie could tell Landon was wearing Paper Denim & Cloth. It was the perfect
     choice for a crisp fall Sunday.
    Then a second pair of ankles filled the screen next to Landon’s. Only these ankles weren’t boy ankles. They were bronzed,
     freshly shaved, and slender.
    Massie swallowed hard. These were girl ankles. Maybe even alpha-girl ankles.
    She reached for the oversize mug on her bedside table and took a gulp. The steaming tea scorched her tongue. But she barely
     even noticed the pain over the tidal wave of jealousy surging inside her.
    Above the ankles, a pair of bleach-stained jeans were rolled up to mid-calf. Below the cuffs were low, gray suede booties.
     It was a riskier fashion choice than Fergie’s harem pants. But somehow, like the harem pants, it worked.
    Leaning closer, Massie could make out the outline of a tiny pink hummingbird floating above a daisy, just above the ankle
     bone. Her jaw dropped. A tattoo? Did that make the mystery girl tacky, trashy, or edgy? Massie had no idea how to tell.
    The gray booties stepped back from the camera. Bean growled as Bark leapt into Ankle-Bird’s arms. She was wearing a fitted
     boyfriend blazer over a white ribbed tank, with a tangle of long necklaces swinging from her neck. Her hands were freshly
     manicured, and she wore a sparkly vintage cocktail ring on her left middle finger.
    “Show. Me. Your. Face!” Massie demanded, tiny beads of sweat forming along her temple. How could she tell whether the girl