Stalker by Lena Little
5
Sophia
I’ve never slept so well in all my life. Moving to the window I stretch up big and tall just as Steven is walking through the courtyard with a big bag of something or other he seems to have picked up from the store.
After a long shower and a piece of wholegrain toast, I see just what it is. Looking across to his balcony there he is in a snug white T-shirt and navy blue sweat pants, reaching up to install security cameras while his little dog jumps up and down as if she’s trying to help with the process. It’s too cute and I’m tempted to take a picture with my phone, but realize at the last second that taking secret snaps of your hot new neighbor isn’t exactly the best way to endear yourself to them.
But as the hot morning sun wraps around his building and lights up his unit, and he slowly strips off his T-shirt, I have second thoughts.
I could tell he we built, but good grief. He looks more like a sculpture than human, more Adonis than Steven, more of an NFL linebacker than…what did he say he did again?
My eyes narrow as my brain processes the coincidence that he’s installing the security cameras, after feeling like I sure could have used some last night.
Moving out onto the balcony I call out, “Wanna come over and install a few of those on my balcony?” I’m surprised at my boldness and take a step back as soon as the words slide forward from my mouth.
He stops what he’s doing, turns to look where the sound came from, and then flashes me a lopsided smile. The way his body turns has his entire back flexing, muscles I didn’t even know the human body had, not to mention those boulders at the tip of each arm that he calls shoulders.
“You’re in luck. Looks like I bought too many.”
“I was just kidding,” I call back, just as my neighbor lady Francine steps out onto her balcony and shoots me a snooty look for no reason at all.
“I’m not. You live alone over there?”
I nod.
“You need to be safe. I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”
“You sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Sliding back into my apartment I take a chair from the table and sit back so he can’t see me, watching as he capably drills the posts to the walls and then screws the cameras in place. He pulls his phone out of the single pocket in his sweat pants and despite the dark color with the phone now removed I can make out the shape of his backside. It’s as hard as the rest of him, but still cute all the same time.
He moves inside his unit and comes back out with lemonade, the cool drink drifting across his lips as sweat rolls down his torso. God, how I want to grab a towel and dry him off, or better yet take a shower with him.
The sexual thoughts shake me and I try and stay focused on just admiring his work, but my mind won’t stop daydreaming.
A few seconds later there are three loud raps on my door and I jump. How did he get over here so quickly?
I jump out of my seat and rush to the mirror, fluffing up my hair a bit and putting on a swipe of lip moisturizer before moving to the door.
“It’s the handyman,” he calls out playfully, and I cue up the bow-chicca-bow-wow fake porno music on my mind. But when I pull the door open there’s no joke to it. The only thing wrong about the sight in front of me is he put on a T-shirt, but the rest of him reeks of a woman’s fantasy. He’s holding a toolbox in one hand and cradling his dog in the other.
“This is Louis,” he says, taking one of her paws and waving it in my direction.
“She’s so cute. She is a she, right?”
“Yeah. Louis sounded like the perfect French name for a French Bulldog. I got too attached to it before I realized a more female name probably would have been a better choice.”
“It’s fine. I love it.”
“And it looks like she loves you.” He hands Louis in my direction and she proceeds to lick my face like I applied a coat of makeup from the makers of Chewy. “Let me take a look at your place?”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say, stepping out of the way and he steps inside, checking the locks on my front door, before moving back into the hall and looking at the lightbulbs that illuminate the corridor. Then he moves back inside and checks out the tiny balcony, looking at the other balconies above, below, and to the sides of me. “Do you sleep with the windows open?”
“When it’s hot. I don’t have air conditioning.”
He just nods. “Android or iPhone?”
“Android. iPhones are way out of my price range.”
He nods again and gets to work drilling out on my balcony. I move closer to watch him, but still, try and give him enough space so that I’m not all up in his business, even though I want to be. “If you ever move out it’s easy to pull these down and patch the holes, so you can get your entire deposit back.”
“Thank you.”
He continues with military-like precision until fifteen minutes later he’s got two cameras on my balcony and one in the hallway. “I have to go back to the story later today. I’ll pick up a new deadbolt and a chain when I do.”
“The ones I have are fine. Thank you though.” He slides one of his big digits behind the chain and flicks his finger forward, the chain nearly snapping off. “Maybe you’re right,” I relent.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Yeah. I just finished.”
“What did you have?”
“A piece of toast.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me disapprovingly, almost as if…scolding me, and my body doesn’t fight his disapproval as I make myself small and push out my lower lip as I look down and away at the floor.
“That’s not enough for you.”
“It’s all—”
“You like pancakes?” he cuts me off.
“I definitely don’t not like them.”
“That settles it. We’re out of here.” He closes the balcony door and moves toward the front door, looking at me with a ‘what’s taking you so long’ face. Still holding Louis I move toward him. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my pocket.”
He holds out a hand and I hand it over, dropping it in his massive palm. He pulls up the Google Play store and downloads something before handing the phone to me.
“Whoa,” I gasp, looking at the two of us on the front camera as we step into the hallway.
“Now you’ll know when that nosey neighbor Francine comes snooping around.”
I laugh as he offers me the space to walk in front of him. I slow, processing how he knows Francine, or that she’s my neighbor, or nosey for that matter. Surely her reach doesn’t extend into the other apartment block…does it.
The idea is quickly forgotten when his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me forward toward the stairs.
It’s my one day off this week and I’m going to make the most of it. I’m not going to worry about little things that are just making me paranoid. Not to mention he picked the one day I’m free. It’s more than a coincidence. It’s meant to be.
