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I've never been with a man before. The only person who has ever seen me naked is me.
But this man is something else. His eyes were so intense, his gaze lit me on fire.
So what does it mean that I'm now feeling eyes on me again? If it is him, does that mean he wants me? Does it mean he'll come for me and take me the way I was already imagining in the back of my mind?
Maybe, just maybe, if it's him, I'll give in.
Getting home just as the sun fully falls behind the horizon, I let my bag fall on the floor just inside the door and kick my shoes off. Triple-checking that the door is locked, I stride into the kitchen, the heavy tide of exhaustion rising to take me with every step.
I need to eat, and as I open the fridge, I'm relieved to see that Dad hadn't exaggerated about plenty of food being stocked. A few minutes later, I have a turkey sandwich made, sitting at the breakfast bar and trying my hardest to keep my eyes open as I eat.
It's so much more than just the exhaustion from traveling today. There's also the shock and grief, and the general newness of everything around me. And, at the back of my mind, the awareness that I am being watched.
It may be nothing, but still.
I finish the sandwich and clean the dishes, putting them away and wiping down the counters. It's a little strange being here, in a house this size all by myself. In a city where I know no one except for my dad and a few people online.
As if I need another reminder that it's just me.
I could use a bath, but the bedroom is calling. I'll grab a shower and wash away the last of the travel grime tomorrow. Inside my bedroom, I have my shirt and bra off before I see that the curtains are open. The night is still young, and there are several lights on at houses farther on the street. Before I can freak out, I rush over and yank the curtains closed. My heart is pounding, but I remind myself that they're all so far away, and there's no way anyone could see anything.
If I hadn't noticed the guy watching me at the beach, would it have mattered?
With a sigh, I toss the rest of my clothes into the hamper, grab my oversized sleep shirt, and pull the covers back, settling into bed. It's soft and comfortable, and I know that I'll sleep like a baby, despite the emotions still raging through me.
Trying not to imagine shapes hovering in the darkness, I switch the lights off and let my head hit the pillow. There are still sparks of anxiousness in my belly, the odd feeling that I'm not alone, but still I manage to drift off into a deep, restful sleep.
There are very few street lights on my father's street, and when I wake up at three in the morning, it's pitch black in my room. A small sliver of pale moonlight comes through the curtains, but something draws me to that glowing blue line. I don't know if it’s this desire that woke me up or just the misplaced energy from sleeping somewhere new for the first time.
Either way, I'm awake and restless.
I slide from the warmth of the bed, creeping towards the window. I don't bother with the light, since that would ruin my night vision. The feeling hasn't subsided, and I'm burning with curiosity to see if someone is out there. Standing in just my rumpled t-shirt and still a little sleepy, I push the curtains aside and stare out.
At first, there's nothing but vague shapes of trees and some houses in the distance. Then, a car passes by, and the headlights illuminate another vehicle, parked nearly in front of the house that definitely wasn't there when I got home. Somehow, someway, I know the pull I'm feeling is resonating from inside the darkness of that vehicle.
My heart beats faster, and my mouth goes dry. I'm not afraid, though.
Instead, I'm thinking about the man from the cafe and how the second he entered the room, the air became charged with electricity. The moment my eyes connected with his, everything changed. My entire world.
His eyes burned, and the intensity radiating out of him took control of my body. It was just a minute, but I was lost to him for those sixty or so seconds.
Frightened and exhilarated, I pull the curtains closed in a rush and hold my hands over my racing heart. It's just a parked car. There's no way it's him.
And yet, I bet my life it is.
Shakey, I climb back beneath the sheets and try to will myself to go back to sleep. But the feeling of his eyes on me, the car parked outside—all of it makes a tingle go through me. A hot, delicious heat that settles between my legs and burns like a flame.
Whimpering, I rub my legs together, screw my eyes shut, and wait for morning.
The following day, I find myself at Sage and Salt once more. Having finally stolen a few more hours of sleep between 4 AM and 8 AM, I still don't feel fully rested. Yet, I'm somehow jittery and unsettled. I thought getting out of the house would help—a change of scenery to get the creative juices going—but now I'm staring at a blank sketch pad, with my latte growing cold.
It's busy this morning; the line is long enough that the counter is swamped. Most people seem to be taking their drinks and confections to-go, though, so I sit at a quieter table in the corner, away from the bustling central area, and it allows me a view of the whole cafe and the front doors. It’s the only way I can get some peace after an entire night of worrying.
Why would anyone be watching you? The voice in the back of my mind asks the question, but I'm still not really sure. All I know is that the strange feeling came back, and I couldn't shake it. I had to keep looking over my shoulder, peering around corners, checking the locks on the windows and doors.
Am I scared? Yeah, a little. But there's also a thrill to it. If I leave the front door of my house unlocked, will the mysterious man find his way inside?
If this feeling is real, if someone really is watching me, I've never gotten attention like this in my entire life. It makes me want more, this feeling of being the center of someone's world, if even for a brief time.
