Chapter 2
The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly my tiny apartment felt even smaller.
Kai handed me one of the beers, his fingers brushing mine again—that same spark from earlier shooting straight through me.
I twisted the cap off too quickly, the cold fizz biting at my lips as I took a long swig to hide how fast my heart was racing.
“Thanks,” I said, gesturing awkwardly toward the second-hand couch I’d dragged in that afternoon. “It’s not much, but… make yourself at home.”
He dropped onto it like he’d been there a hundred times, legs spread in that casual way guys do, one arm draped over the back.
His t-shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of toned skin above his jeans.
I forced my eyes up, but not before my mind supplied the rest—imagining what it would feel like under my hands.
“No TV yet?” he asked, nodding at the blank wall.
“Priorities.” I sat on the other end of the couch, tucking one leg under me. Close enough to smell that cedar-soap scent again, but not so close that it screamed desperate. “Unpacking. Surviving on takeout. You know, the glamorous single life.”
Kai laughed, that low rumble that vibrated through the thin space between us.
“Tell me about it. Moved in six months ago and I’m still eating cereal for dinner half the time.” He took a pull from his beer, his throat working as he swallowed.
I watched the movement, mesmerized, then looked away fast when his stormy gray eyes caught mine.
We talked. Easy at first—about the noisy pipes in the building, the creepy landlord who smelled like mothballs, the corner store that sold expired milk.
But the conversation shifted when he asked why I’d moved here.
“Needed a fresh start,” I said, picking at the label on my bottle. The words tasted bitter. “Bad breakup. He… wasn’t who I thought he was.”
I didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to dump all that on a stranger, even one who made my skin hum just by existing.
Kai’s expression softened, but that guarded look flickered behind his eyes again.
“Been there. Sometimes the person you think you know turns out to be someone else entirely.” He clinked his bottle against mine. “To fresh starts, then.”
The beer warmed me from the inside, loosening the knot in my chest. Or maybe it was him. The way he listened, really listened, leaning in when I spoke about my dead-end job at the café downtown.
How his knee brushed mine accidentally-on-purpose when he shifted, sending heat pooling between my thighs.
“You’ve got this fire in you,” he said after a while, his voice dropping lower. “Most people who move in here look defeated. You? You look like you’re ready to take on the world.”
I flushed, heat creeping up my neck. No one had said anything like that to me in months. “Or I’m just really good at pretending.”
“Nah.” His gaze held mine, intense. “I see it.”
The air grew thick. I could hear my own pulse in my ears. We were sitting closer now, the couch cushions dipping under our weight.
I wanted to lean in, to trace that scar on his eyebrow with my fingertip, to find out if his lips tasted like the beer between us. Instead, I stood up abruptly, grabbing his empty bottle.
“Another one?” My voice came out breathy.
He stood too, towering over me in the dim lamplight. “Only if you’re not kicking me out yet.”
I wasn’t. God, I wasn’t.
We ended up in the kitchenette, which was basically just a counter separating the living room.
I popped the caps, hyper-aware of him behind me—his body heat, the soft rustle of his clothes.
When I turned, he was right there, taking the beer but not stepping back. Our chests nearly touched.
“Elara,” he murmured, like he was testing my name on his tongue. “Pretty name for a pretty neighbor.”
My breath hitched. The obsession was already sinking its claws in deep.
I pictured him in my bed later that night, those strong hands on my waist, his mouth on my neck. I pictured waking up to him through the wall, wondering if he’d think about me too.
But then he chuckled softly and stepped back, breaking the spell.
“Don’t want to overstay my welcome on night one.”
Disappointment crashed over me, sharp and unexpected. “You’re not. Really.”
He headed for the door anyway, pausing with his hand on the knob.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. No work for me. If you’re still unpacking, I could help. Or we could grab breakfast. Neighborly stuff.”
I nodded too eagerly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Kai flashed that crooked smile again. “Sweet dreams, Elara.”
The door closed, and I sagged against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. My body was on fire.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only made it worse. Kai.
I whispered his name to the empty room, already imagining his hands instead of mine slipping under my shorts.
Later, in bed, I heard him through the wall again. A shower running. The low hum of his voice on another call—something about “work running late again” and a soft laugh that wasn’t for me. Jealousy twisted in my gut, irrational and new. Who was he talking to? Did they get to hear that laugh every day?
I fell asleep with my hand between my legs, biting my lip to stay quiet, fantasizing about him bursting through the wall and taking what we both wanted.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of his door opening. I was at my peephole before I could think twice, watching him step out in running shorts that hugged his thighs.
Sweat already glistened on his skin from… whatever he’d done last night.
He didn’t know. Not yet. But I was already hooked, falling fast into something that felt bigger than both of us.
And when he knocked on my door an hour later with coffee and bagels, I opened it with a smile that hid the storm building inside me.
