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Gage was stalking me. I could be honest with myself and call it what it was. It should feel like a violation; instead, I felt protected, watched over and safe. Which meant I was more broken than I thought. A deep sigh left me as I broke his stare and forced myself to turn away from the window.
I had no idea why he’d chosenmeof all people to watch. My life was boring and predictable, something that I lacked growing up and was grateful for now. If I wasn’t at the restaurant, working, then I was home with Miles, buying groceries or taking him to the little library in town.
I flipped on the light in my bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The image that stared back at me didn’t seem all that special. My eyes were a basic brown, my nose seemed average and my lips were on the side of too thin for my liking.
Taking a few steps back, I took in at the rest of my body. I was short, at barely 5’3” I hadn’t grown an inch since middle school. My breasts would never be considered more than a handful and I tended to keep extra weight on my hips. Most days, I liked my curves, unless I was under the harsh lights of a dressing room trying on jeans. That was where self-esteem went to die.
My hair was my most unusual and favorite feature I possessed. It was a deep auburn red that stood out against my darker skin. Being a waitress, I received comments about the color all the time, some were nice and others could be downright creepy. I’d never understood the need of some people to comment on others’ bodies like we didn’t own a mirror. All in all, I’d call myself average as far as looks went, certainly not the kind of beauty that would gain someone like Gage’s attention.
So why was a man like him fixated on me? I’d been in awe the first time I’d seen him. Even now, I could barely look his way without growing warm all over. He was tall and broad, with long black hair that I’d only ever seen tied back. His arms were huge, his waist trim and his thighs the size of tree trunks. He clearly knelt at the altar of the workout gods just like his coworkers.
The skin that was exposed was covered in dark ink, each piece of art like shadows seeping from beneath the fabric of his shirt. And his face, his savagely beautiful face had stolen my breath. High cheekbones, angles that I could only replicate with steady hands and a good contour. His lips were so plump, if I could afford filler, I’d bring in a picture of those babies. Then, there were his eyes.
Eyes slightly upturned and golden in color. On the rare occasions that I could watch him, I noticed that he kept them downcast, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Was he self-conscious about how unusual they were? I wondered if he’d received backhanded compliments like I had about my hair and now it was instinctual to keep them hidden.
I went through my usual nighttime routine and changed into pajamas before shutting off the light and walking the short distance to my double bed. Miles was asleep in the room next to mine, his gentle snores drifting through the thin wall.
The curtains in my bedroom stayed closed. The temptation to open them was always right below the surface, my skin itching to get once last glimpse of him before I went to sleep. The longing to feel those gorgeous eyes rake over my body as I lay in bed. Too often, my dreams were filled with him watching me lying here as I touched myself, putting on a show just for him. His dream self would move closer, his breath fogging up the glass until I invited him to join me.
The rasp of the sheets was loud in the quiet room when I rubbed my legs together, a familiar ache starting in my core. I slid my hand over my stomach, teased the waistband of my sleep shorts as I thought about letting the fantasy play out.
A car alarm blared from down the street and I tore my hand away as if I’d been caught. Shame flooded me and I turned on my side, facing away from the window and trapping my hands under my pillow.
Gage was my stalker. I needed to confront him, ask him why he did it, ask him to stop. Yet, hours later, in a fitful sleep, I dreamed of a tall shadow with golden eyes.
2
GAGE
The light went off in Mia’s bedroom, filling me with relief and disappointment equally.
Tearing the band from my hair, the length fell around my shoulders before I scooped it back into a tight bun. I wouldn’t lay eyes on her again until tomorrow night, eight hours from now. It might as well be an eternity.
I remained at my post another half hour before leaving the shadows and making my way to the back of the house. Mia lived in a small duplex with her son, Miles, on one side, and the other half of the building was occupied by an older woman who’s hearing had declined decades ago. The first time I’d broken into Mia’s home, I’d learned that she and her son were deep sleepers. I didn’t have to worry about waking anyone up when I let myself through the back gate, though I kept a small bottle of WD-40 in my pocket just in case.
The duplex was old, only necessary upgrades being installed over the years with no concern for aesthetics or fads. There was one staircase divided by a handrail that led to the separate front doors, one for Mia and one for the neighbor. The doors weren’t made of steel, which is what I would have preferred to keep them safe, but the deadbolts were solid and there was a flip lock for added security when unannounced visitors dropped by.
However, the sliding doors in the backyard that led to a small concrete patio were garbage. It would be far too easy for someone with access to YouTube to pop the lock and gain entrance.
I should know. The flat end of the screwdriver slid easily between the frame and the lock, releasing the tension on the latch and helping me ease the glass door to the side without making a sound. Stepping over the threshold, I closed the door and locked it, reaching for the security pole and putting it in the tracks to prevent someone from doing exactly what I’d just done. Mia always forgot that extra step.
After making sure the door was secure, I turned and took in the small living space. They didn’t have much in the way of furniture, but it was clear that Mia had worked hard to make this place a home for her and her son. A scented candle sat on the coffee table, Miles’ school photo was displayed proudly in a frame on the wall and she’d sewn the bright curtains that hung above the window by hand. Mia hadn’t closed them in months, not since she clocked me watching her.
It was something I tried not to think about even though it occupied my mind constantly. She was a woman alone in the house with her young child. Why hadn’t she confronted me, told me to fuck off? My gut clenched thinking about her being too afraid of me to do so. If I were a better man I’d leave them alone.
The living room held an old couch, the side with the large tear in the fabric angled so that it faced the wall. Their shoes sat under an old bench, their bags sitting on top. There was a scratched table in the kitchen where they ate, two chairs tucked underneath, one for each of them.
Mia worked the dinner shift at Brooks’ but I could picture her in this small kitchen making pancakes and bacon on Saturdays, topping off Miles’ stack with whipped cream and chocolate chips. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine being here with them. I’d get up with Miles and help him flip the pancakes while Mia slept in, getting the rest she desperately needed. When she woke, we’d go hike the falls together or go see a movie, whatever they wanted.
I shook my head to erase the fantasy. Mia wasn’t mine and never would be. I was her stalker, the last person she’d ever willingly spend time with. Placing my tool bag on the ground next to me, my knees creaked when I crouched down. The sink was leaking, I’d overheard Mia leave a message for her shitty landlord about it yesterday. It was pointless, he’d never actually come and fix it. Not that she needed him to, she had me.
The cabinet doors squeaked when I opened them and I paused, listening for doors opening or footsteps in the hall. When neither of them stirred, I sprayed the hinges with the WD-40 and started pulling out the cleaning products that Mia stored inside. There was a bucket catching the dripping water, I emptied it into the sink and sat it off to the side.
Grabbing my pipe wrench, I lay down on my back and scooted under the pipes. There was a coupling nut that had loosened at some point. A few turns had it nice and tight, no more leak. Then I maneuvered my way back out, not an easy feat when my shoulders were wider than the opening itself. I stretched my arms overhead to try and ease the knots in my back and stared at the pipe, daring it to drip again in my presence. When it didn’t, I put the products back in the cabinet, exactly where they’d been before and replaced the bucket.
There was one more task to take care of, changing the air filter. I’d already unwrapped it outside, worried that the plastic covering would be too loud. With my height, it was easy enough to open the return air in the ceiling and take out the old dusty filter, replacing it with the new anti-allergen one.
This was something else I’d heard while eavesdropping. Miles had asthma and one of the things that aggravated it was dust. She kept their house immaculately clean for this reason, making sure to vacuum every day and wipe down all the surfaces. But the specialty air filters were expensive and aforementioned shitty landlord wasn’t going to shell out for something like that. Fucker.
