The light goes on in an upstairs bedroom, and I see her through the window. She moves around the room, hanging up clothing in her closet and drawers.
The urge to move closer hits me hard.
Under the cover of darkness, I stealthily move to the other side of the house, watching her. She’s oblivious to me staring at her through the window.
I see some photos hanging from a bulletin boardhanging on the wall. I lift my binoculars, catching my own face staring back at me as I put an envelope in the mailbox.When the hell did she take that?
I’m not surprised. It’s Ivy, after all.
The light goes off, and she goes back downstairs. I move toward the patio door, listening as she hums and begins making herself some tea. She yawns as she grabs a mug from the cabinet.
Poor girl. Sneaking into my room at night has made her tired.
I’m aware I’m crazy for having sympathy that my stalker is tired. But she’s a harmless one. Mostly.
Just that one incident where she misunderstood the woman in my house, and Ivy became possessive.
I’ve never told anyone, but I liked the way she claimed me.
I still do, or else I wouldn’t be creeping around her patio in the dark, pissed off that another man was showing her attention.
Fucker.Aaron seems like a nice guy, but I don’t trust him.
Not with her.
Ivy’s too… innocent.
She takes her mug of tea and moves to the living room. I follow, staying on the backside of the house toward the woods, watching as she sits down and turns on the TV. She flips through the streaming services until she finds something she wants to watch, then leans back and sips her tea, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch onto her lap.
She sets her mug on the table beside her, eyes growing heavy. I watch her nod off, then wake up from the noise of thetelevision.
She does it two more times before she stretches out, her head on the pillow.
Within minutes, she’s asleep.
I wait a few more beats, trying to talk myself out of what I’m about to do.
My hand is on the doorknob, turning it. It opens, and I’m inside, the warmth of the kitchen blanketing me.
I silently move to the living room. Her lips are slightly parted, cheeks pink, breathing steady. She looks so damn cute curled up on the couch in my sweatshirt.
Moments pass. I’m not sure how much time goes by while I stand there, staring down at my beautiful stalker.
I should leave. But I don’t.
Instead, I make sure the flash is off and snap a few pictures of her.
Pocketing my phone, I creep up the stairs, moving to her bedroom.
Once inside, I use my phone’s flashlight to guide me to the bulletin board. It’s covered in photos of me.
I smirk, shaking my head slightly, as I examine the images she’s captured. At home, at work, during my lunch breaks, stretching after a run, and asleep in my bed. All of it laid out like a collage of my boring life.
Something twists in my chest. I look… lonely.
No wonder she started watching me.
I push the thought away, irritated with myself.
