Chapter 1 The Window Across the Street
He was halfway up the front steps of the frat house, his duffel bag slung low on one shoulder, when he looked up—not for any reason, really, just to glance at the moon. A habit more than anything.
That’s when he saw her.
Second window from the left. The soft glow of a bedroom lamp. Thin white curtains fluttering, blown aside by a careless breeze or a fan he couldn't see. And there she was—half-turned, lit from the side, pulling her shirt over her head with a grace so unthinking it made something in his chest catch.
He froze.
Not out of lust—at least not only that—but because the moment felt too intimate, too unguarded, too... real. Like a scene in a film where the music cuts out and all that’s left is breath and heartbeat.
She didn’t see him. She didn’t even look toward the window. And before he could decide whether to look away or keep looking, it was over—shirt off, lamp off, curtains settling back into place like nothing had happened.
But something had happened.
To him, at least.
He stood there a few seconds too long, the cool night air sticking to the back of his neck. Then someone opened the frat house door behind him, spilling out a burst of light and a shout about beer pong, and the world snapped back into motion.
He didn’t mention what he saw. Not to the guys inside, not even to Ben, his roommate and the only one who might’ve understood the difference between seeing and seeing.
Instead, he tossed his bag into the corner of his room, took a shower that felt too hot, and lay in bed with damp hair soaking into the pillow. But sleep didn’t come easily. His mind kept returning to her—not just to her body, although that image was burned somewhere in the back of his eyes—but to her stillness. The way she moved like nobody was watching. The way she didn’t perform.
Who was she?
Why hadn’t he noticed her before?
He tried to remember if he’d seen her during the day—picking up mail, carrying groceries, doing whatever it was that women like her did in houses like that, the ones with ivy curling up their porches and wind chimes that didn’t match.
A single mom, someone had said in passing. Young. Lived alone with a toddler. That was all he knew.
But now he knew more.
Now she had a shape, a presence. A room, a light, a window.
He turned to his side, facing the wall. The window. Her window.
Sleep eventually found him, but so did the dreams. And in all of them, she stood by that window—not looking out, not looking for him—just... there. Unreachable. Unaware.
The next morning, the sun came too early, slicing through the gap in his blinds with the precision of someone who meant to wake him. He blinked against it, not quite rested, and let his eyes adjust to the shape of his room—lacrosse stick leaning against the desk, the pile of laundry still untouched, textbooks closed and vaguely accusing.
He didn’t move right away. He just lay there, the dream fragments fading, but her window stayed in his mind. Not in a creepy way, at least not how he understood "creepy." More like curiosity wrapped in silence. Like the kind of attention you pay to a song stuck in your head, even though you don’t know the lyrics.
By the time he got dressed and wandered downstairs, the house was already loud—music from the kitchen, someone yelling about Pop-Tarts, and the faint scent of body spray trailing through the air like a warning.
He stepped outside, blinked at the daylight, and looked across the street.
Her porch was quiet. No stroller. No kid toys in sight. But there was a pair of black rain boots neatly lined up by the door, and something about their placement—so exact, so alone—hit him in the chest.
He hadn’t meant to look again.
He didn’t want to be that guy.
But there was that strange pull. Like gravity—but sideways. Emotional. Wordless.
He glanced up.
The window was closed now. Curtains drawn. No sign of life.
Still, he lingered a second longer than he needed to.
And when he finally turned to walk to class, he realized something unsettling:
He wasn’t just curious about what he saw.
He wanted to know who she was when no one was watching.
