Neva stares at him in utter disbelief, her cheeks and ears burning so hot she can almost feel them burst in flames.
Her lips part slightly… then press shut again, words failing her completely.
Then she glances around in thought.
When she feels it, a warm hand brushing through her hair, a lingering touch resting on the crown of her head.
An electric jolt shooting through her nerves sends her stumbling back.
Another step, and she'll crash straight into the store's rack.
A step back—
In a sudden whirl of charged haze, he reaches for her, his firm fingers wrapping around her wrist.
A sharp gasp escapes her as he pulls her toward him, her chest colliding with his for a fleeting heartbeat.
She freezes against the Mystery man, suspended in a clouded haze of breath and hai solid heat.
At once, she presses her palms to the firm plane of his stomach,
pushing him away almost desperately.
"H–how dare you!" Neva abrubtly moves back, her fists clenched.
He's trying to take advantage of her!
How could she?! How could she let her guard down so easily?!
He lifts his hands, stepping closer. "I just—"
"Don't you dare take another step!" she warns, her fists raised before her chest, her stance that of a trained fighter, steady, anc poised to strike.
He halts just a step away, an amused glint flickering in his eyes.
Then he laughs softly. So cruelly sweet it sends a chill rippling down her spine.
Her fists tremble with barely contained rage. "How dare you?! I can dislocate your bones and put them right back!"
A mischievous spark flickers in his eyes.
"Oh really?" He squeezes his clothed bicep, broad and solid even beneath the thick fabric.
"Then I suppose I'm in for quite the massage." A cocky smile curves his lips.
Neva grits her teeth.
If only, if only she'd taken those karate lessons before moving to Vernellia,
she could've easily bruised him purple and black.
She narrows her eyes, studying his form.
Maybe, just maybe, she could land a punch on his face. Break a nose, knock out a tooth or two. But that's about it,
if she even manages to land a strike.
And he, he's a big man. Broad. Muscled. Easily six feet two, and even more.
No… she doesn't stand a chance. Attacking him would be summoning her own death.
She moved here to start anew, to live, to finally enjoy life. She's not dying before she's even found a purpose for it.
Her muscles loosen as her arms fall to her sides. Then she feels it, eyes, whispers.
Her gaze darts about, scattered; customers steal quiet, judging glances before pretending not to look.
At the same aisle ahead, a woman with a little boy draws Neva's attention; the child tugs and whines until the mother catches his eye. She hustles him away with the cart, as if erasing their small, awkward scene.
"Having second thoughts?" The Mystery man asks with that same teasing smile.
Neva's brows knit into a displeased frown. "I don't want to cause a scene here!"
She grips her cart, overflowing with both essentials and a handful of useless things she'd grabbed to stall,
and pushes it toward the cash counter.
"Then perhaps we can find a private spot?" His hushed footsteps trail behind hers.
She huffs in anger but doesn't respond. How dare he?! She isn't that stupid!
When she steps out of the convenience store, her heart is still tightened with anger.
He falls into stride beside her, silent and unbothered, as though shadowing her is the most natural thing in the world.
"Let me help you with the bags," he offers, his tone too comfortable for a stranger who's been frustrating her to the core.
"No!" she snaps, though the two heavy polythene bags strain her arms, the plastic cutting into her palms.
Her lack of exercise mocks her now, regret hitting her with cruel precision at the worst possible moment.
"I won't run away with your groceries." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Just trying to be of help."
"I don't need any help!" she retorts, quickening her pace.
"Seriously! Why do you keep following me?!" She stares at the lanterns flickering to life as the sky bleeds into crimson dusk.
The world grows quieter, emptier, no passerby wanders the narrow road leading toward the Rose Byrne Apartments.
"I'm not," he murmurs, his calmness only fueling her frustration.
She shoots him a sharp glare.
"I'm just on my way home too." A smile tugs at his lips, the amber glow of the streetlight painting his face in deceptive warmth.
He's so devastatingly handsome it almost makes his words believable.
"You better not be playing with me." Her voice is tight with nerves and stubborn pride.
Her heart blazes with one singular goal, to reach her apartment safe and sound, and without further humiliation. Then she'll lock the door, eat, sleep, and forget this entire mortifying encounter ever happened.
The world is swallowed in shadow by the time she reaches Rose Byrne Apartment, tall, charming, its few lit windows glimmering faintly through the glass.
Victorian lanterns line the stone walls of the property, their golden light spilling across the red and orange leaves beneath,
brushing the flowerbeds in a soft glow that brightens the quiet autumn evening.
Neva climbs the open staircase to the second floor, her steps quick and uneven.
The plastic handles bite into her reddened palms,
the weight of the bags burning through her skin as she silently begs for relief.
As she reaches her apartment door,
Neva sets the grocery bags down with a dull thud. The sound echoes through the quiet, lamplit corridor, its patterned iron railings casting delicate shadows along the walls.
She straightens, hands resting on her hips as she exhales a long, relieved breath.
Then she glances toward the Mystery man, casually stepping into the corridor.
Tailing me around still?
She gave him a chance.
She even tried to believe him when he said he was on his way home too.
But there are barely any apartments near Rose Byrne.
God, oh dear Father...
That man—how dare he!
"I'm calling the cops! You dare deceive me?!" She points an accusing finger at him.
"I just got this place, and now I'll have to move again! You dare invade my privacy?!"
"But this is my home." He shrugs a shoulder, watching her from a few steps away.
"This is my home! Now you're trying to claim my property? You've got some iron guts!" Her chest blazes, not with the flutter of a maiden's heart this time,
but flushed with pure, indignant fury.
Neva's eyes widen as instinct drives her a step back.
Her heart drops as the Mystery man advances, slow, deliberate. His expression shifts, something intense and unreadable flickering in his gaze for a chilling heartbeat.
Her back meets the door with a soft thud, breath catching at the sudden closeness, the heat of him, and the faint trace of cedar.
She flinches as his hand
comes to rest against the wood beside her head, caging her in.
Her throat tightens; looking into those eyes, dark and unwavering, studying her face as though memorizing every flicker of fear and defiance that passes through it.
A slow, satisfied smirk curls his lips as he finally steps back.
His gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, knowing, before retreating just enough to let her breathe again.
She quickly fumbles for her phone, breath uneven and shallow.
Her fingers tremble as she swipes across the screen, frantic for signal, for safety, something solid in this swaying ground.
But when she looks up,
he's already at the door next to hers, fingers moving over the digital keypad.
A soft beep, the lock clicks open, followed by the familiar chime.
Neva freezes.
He disappears inside without a word, the door shutting softly behind him.
Her thumb hangs suspended in the air, a breath away from pressing the call button.
The door clicks open again
The Mystery man leans out.
He chuckles softly, the sound deep and disarming.
"I never deceive, Angel," he coos. "Seems like fate's playing its hand well tonight. Like the universe must've planned it—" he winks, voice dipping into a teasing lilt, "
—because, see? I'm your neighbour."
And with that, he slips back inside.
The door closes with a quiet click that leaves Neva drowning in stunned silence.
The door next to hers creaks open again.
He peeks his head out.
"Oh, you're still here," he drawls. "You'll catch a cold, gorgeous. Go warm up inside… or"—his smirk deepens, shameless—"do you wanna come in here and let me help you get warm myself?"
She gasps. Then spins around, messy fingers fumbling over the keypad.
She darts inside, slamming the door shut with a thud…
Only to crack it open a second later, just wide enough for her arm to shoot out and snatch the nearly forgotten grocery bags.
Then slam, the door closes again, harder this time.
From the other side, laughter ripples through the corridor.
The Mysterious man leans against his own doorframe,
eyes glimmering beneath the hallway light.
He can't help it, she's so sinfully cute.