The light goes off, and then I see the kitchen light turn on.
A few beats pass before the back door opens. Ivy steps outside, her phone pressed to her ear, laughter spilling freely into the quiet night air. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, dark hair pulled into a loose knot that makes my chest ache in a way I resent.
She paces the small patio as she talks.
“No, I’m serious,” she says. “You cannot text me at midnight asking if you can ‘borrow my vibe.’”
A pause.
“Yes, I know I’m delightful. That’s not the point.”
Ivy laughs again, warm and bright, completely unaware that I’m standing in the shadows like a cautionary tale.
My hands clench in my pockets.
Who is she talking to?
Please don’t let it be Aaron.
My jaw tightens.
It better not be him.
Not at midnight.
A wave of irritation rolls through me.
She should be climbing over my balcony, not on the phone with that Aaron punk.
I slow my breathing. I’m not entitled to her time and attention. I’m not that creep, Silas. I don’t own her. I don’t.
I just?—
I slow my breathing.
I’m losing control.
I should leave.
But I don’t.
She hangs up, slipping the phone into her pocket. For a moment, she just stands there, arms folded loosely acrossher chest, gazing out into the yard like she’s thinking about something else entirely.
Like she’s thinking about me.
My pulse kicks.
She exhales, then murmurs, “You’re being stubborn, Sebastian.”
I freeze.
She tilts her head slightly, eyes lifting—not directly at me, but close enough that my body goes tight anyway.
“…and it’s not attractive,” she adds.
I almost laugh out loud.
She turns and heads back inside, leaving the door unlocked.
