THE NEIGHBOUR
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I wasn’t expecting her when I opened the door that night.
She leaned against the frame like she owned it, hair damp from the shower, an oversized T-shirt clinging in places it shouldn’t. The faint scent of coconut and something floral drifted toward me, and I swear my knees almost buckled.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, smiling in that way she always does the kind that makes you wonder if she’s in on the joke you’re not supposed to hear. “I ran out of sugar.”
Sugar.
Of course.
I stepped aside and let her in, watching the hem of her shirt ride a little higher as she moved past me. My heart thudded, loud enough that I was sure she could hear it.
She leaned against my counter, tapping her nails on the surface while I dug through the cupboard. “You always keep it so tidy in here,” she teased. “I don’t know how you do it.”
I shrugged, setting the jar down, but she didn’t move. Her eyes followed me, lingering too long on my mouth, and when I glanced back, she didn’t look away.
That look held me in place.
“You know,” she murmured, stepping closer, “I could’ve gone to the store. But something told me it’d be more… fun… to come here.”
My breath hitched. She was close now too close. The warmth of her body pressed into my space, her voice low enough to graze the skin of my neck.
“Fun?” I whispered.
Her smile curved slow and wicked. “Mhm.”
Her fingers brushed mine as she took the jar, but instead of pulling back, she let them linger soft, deliberate, like she was testing how far she could go before I’d stop her.
I didn’t.
Instead, I tilted my head, my lips a breath away from her ear. “You’re playing with fire.”
She laughed quietly, breath warm against my jaw. “Good thing I like to burn.”
