Anna
Somehow, Simon's words from yesterday still echoed in my head: "I thought you were a nice girl." I didn't want anyone to see me like this—to think of me like this. I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone. I just wanted to feel safe. That's all. And Oliver c ould give me that. He'd get what he wanted, and I'd finally get some peace. Everyone wins.
And the way he touched me—how his fingers lingered gently on my neck, like he was memorizing the feel of my skin. The softness in his eyes when he looked at me, like he was seeing something no one else ever had.
Every fibre of my body had wanted him to kiss me.
My lips had parted on instinct, heart racing in my chest. There was no denying it—I was attracted to him. Desperately. Confusingly.
It wasn't just the way he looked, or the way he moved. It was how he made me feel. Like I wasn't invisible. Like I was seen.
And that scared me more than anything.
A sharp ring from the doorbell pulled me out of my thoughts.
I left my cookie mix on the table and walked to the front door.
Standing there was a tall, dark-haired woman in cargo pants and a tight top that looked at least two sizes too small. It pushed her boobs up in a way that made it impossible not to glance. I flicked my eyes back to her face.
"Hey. You must be Simon's tenant," she said, giving me a once-over.
Before I could even respond, she breezed past me like she owned the place.
I closed the door, confused, and watched as she wandered straight into the kitchen like she'd been here a hundred times.
"You want something to drink?" I offered politely.
"Nah, I can help myself," she said flatly.
Cool. Rude.
"I'll grab Simon," I said, forcing a tight smile.
I made my way to Simon's bedroom. The door was closed. My mind flashed to yesterday—his hand on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing over my pulse. I swallowed hard and knocked.
There was a quick shuffle behind the door before it opened.
My eyes went wide.
Simon stood in front of me shirtless, joggers slung low on his hips. I immediately dragged my gaze up to his face. A slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.
"Yes?" he said.
"You have… someone here," I said, trying to sound casual. "A woman."
He frowned and grabbed a T-shirt off the bed, tugging it on.
I followed him back to the kitchen.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked the woman as he pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek.
My stomach turned unexpectedly, and I quickly looked away, cheeks flushing.
"This is Lucy," he said. "Lucy, this is Anna—my tenant."
I glanced up at him, then at her.
"Nice to meet you, Anna," Lucy said, that polite-smug kind of smile on her face.
"You too, Lucy," I replied, returning the smile through gritted teeth. Really? Like she hadn't just barged into the house without so much as a proper hello?
"Lucy's an army mate," Simon added.
"Ah. I see," I said, nodding.
"I wanted to check if you wanted to go out this morning. Little date?" Lucy said quickly, cutting him off with a bright smile.
Well, that answered everything.
I gave her a smile that matched hers in tightness. "I'll leave you guys to it."
Simon's eyes followed me as I walked out.
God, why did I feel so… jealous?
It made no sense.
Maybe I'd imagined it—the connection, the lingering glances, the softness in his eyes when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Maybe he was just a kind guy. A decent guy. And I'd read too much into it.
Of course he's seeing someone. Of course he is.
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Embarrassment. Jealousy. Shame. It all blurred together.
I needed to get out of there.
I grabbed my bag, pulled a hoodie over my head, and slipped on my sneakers. I didn't want to hear their laughter. I didn't want to see how gently he probably touched her, too.
I crept past the living room as quietly as I could and slipped out the front door without a sound.
The lake was quiet.
I sat down at the edge, arms wrapped around my knees, staring out at the still water. The surface glimmered in the afternoon light, the breeze brushing against my skin.
But inside, everything felt heavy.
At least here, I could breathe.
Here, there was quiet.
After a while, I left the lake, called Emma, and went back inside. Simon was gone. A few hours passed before he returned.
Emma and I were in the living room, talking about everything and nothing—filling the space with idle chatter, like we were trying to distract ourselves from the things we didn't want to say out loud.
"You seem off. Is everything okay?" Emma asked, her tone gentle but probing.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a small smile. "I'm just... a little stressed about the whole situation with Oliver. I keep wondering if it's the right thing to do."