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Chapter 4 - Nextdoor neighbour

Neva glances around, appearing like a lost rabbit. Her brows furrow in thought, almond eyes rounded and shimmering like those of a startled doe.

To the mystery man watching, she is as delicate, as endearing, as a fair cottontail.

His heart thaws, and this flicker—this fast, restless rhythm inside him—echoes in the mirror of his soft cocoa-brown eyes.

He smiles, fingers twitching with the urge to pat the crown of her adorable head, where her thoughts floats astray.

As he reaches out, hand brushing the silken crown of her fur-soft hair—

Startled, she jerks back.

Another step, and she'll crash into the mall's rack, knocking down the neatly stacked goods—embarassing the heck out of the new girl in the neighborhood.

Instinctively, he catches her hand, steadying them both as their bodies collide for a fleeting heartbeat.

Neva freezes, caught in the warmth of his grasp, her thoughts shattering into silence—by the sudden closeness.

Abruptly, she shoves him away—stirring from the bewildering collision of chests.

"I—I can fight!" Neva snaps, clenching her fists.

She's convinced he's trying to take advantage of her.

He lifts a hand, stepping closer. "I just—"

"Not another step," Neva warns, fist raised inches from his face—her stance sharp, like a martial artist ready to strike.

She seems to have no clue what the man just saved her from.

All she feels is one truth burning through her nerves: He touched me!

And that alone is enough for her to label him a jerk.

She plants herself firmly, like some battle-ready martial artist—feet in an L-stance, fists coiled.

Every muscle alert.

Poised to strike.

He towers over her, eyes lit with quiet amusement—sparks alive in the depths of his gaze.

Then he laughs... so cruelly sweet.

He sounds attractive.

Neva blinks hard—and shakes her head. Has she really gone nuts?

"How dare you make fun of me! I can dislocate your bones and put them back!" she hisses, picturing a scene where she jabs serrated thorns into his eyes.

Those magnificent eyes—eyes that could drown her and lead her astray. Those deep, passionate eyes of his that could make her untold truths strip themselves bare.

"Oh really? I'm in for such a good massage," he murumrs, kneading his clothed biceps, a vague but cocky smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

His response triggers something in her—a signal, the start of a match ringing in her ears.

Neva grits her teeth.

She wants to bruise him purple and black.

She narrows her eyes, studying his robust form.

At the same time, her gaze darts around—she can feel it.

Someone's watching them, intruding on their spicy little scene.

The customers' and staff's curious eyes—hidden beneath casual shopping and routine organizing.

She doesn't want to cause a spectacle. And he's a big man—broad, muscled, with chiseled arms straining against the thin fabric of his black hoodie.

And his height? He's got to be six feet... and then some.

She suspects he probably knows a hundred different ways to crush her.

Their strength would be the difference between earth and sky. One strike from him, and she'd bruise like a peach.

She drifts into thought again.

He leans closer—adjusting until their eyes align. He watches her—so close.

He chuckles, realizing how easily she spaces out. She clenches her fists tighter, fire returning to her stance.

"Wha-what! I could take you right now, right here!" she snaps, her glare blazing.

"Oh really? Show me." He dares, straightening.

"I don't want to make a scene because there are children around," she seethes. In truth, she'd much prefer a foreign hand to stay at least ten meters away.

What she said, however, could be interpreted in two very different ways.

He, of course, picks up on both—and enjoys each equally.

Nevertheless, a young and fiery Neva remains blissfully clueless.

"Then maybe we should find a more secluded spot. What do you say?" he proposes, sliding his hands into his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. He matches her literal meaning, yet laces his words with a barely veiled, cheeky undertone.

"Do you think I'm stupid?!" Neva exclaims, startled—perhaps finally catching on that their conversation could be shaped and mean in an entirely different way, depending on others' perspectives.

Who knows what he might try?

Then again, there's something gentlemanly about the mystery man.

But she doesn't trust him. Why should she? He's just a stranger.

She sighs, unclenching the tension in her muscles. Her arms fall to her sides as she regains composure. Reaching for the shopping cart—already filled with her essentials—she grips the handle tightly.

Without a word or even a glance in his direction, she pushes the cart forward, hastily making her way toward the counter.

---

Balancing grocery bags in both hands, she steps out of the convenience store.

The mysterious man stands there, waiting.

Upon seeing her, he reveals a good-boy smile and bright eyes. She glances at him once but ignores him, walking toward the coziness of her home, wishing for nothing more than to eat and sleep.

He casually saunters alongside her.

"Let me help you carry the bags," he offers. Feeling him so close, Neva quickens her strides.

He matches her pace, earning them a gallery of bizarre looks from passersby.

Neva shuts her eyes, embarrassed, and rather slows down.

"Seriously! You're a headache!" Neva exclaims, annoyed, in a hushed voice.

"Want me to fetch you a remedy?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yes. The remedy would be you out of my sight," she mutters, pursing her lips and glancing at him briefly.

"Seriously! Why are you walking with me?" she asks, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Well, I'm just on my way home too," he says matter-of-factly.

Neva is flabbergasted. This guy—he better be telling the truth. Otherwise, he might just end up eating prison food.

They reach her apartment building, and she hurriedly climbs the stairs.

At her door, she sets the grocery bags down. Just as she's about to punch in the key code, she glances behind—and sees him walking up the same stairs.

Their eyes meet. He presents her with an innocent smile.

She can't help but think he might be a fool.

'Tailing me around still?'

Liar! He's still here—and there's no other apartment building near her place.

"You dare deceive me? I'm calling the police! I just got this place, and now I'll have to move again? You dare invade my privacy?!" she blurts, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"If you don't scamper away in the next two seconds, I swear I'll call the cops," she warns, voice sharp with aggression.

Her eyes blaze with anger—she is furious, very furious.

"But this my home," the man says with a casual shrug, a tinge of amusement glinting in his cocoa eyes.

"That's my home!

Now you're trying to claim my property? You've got some iron guts!" Neva snaps, exasperated.

He steps closer, unfazed, until only a few centimeters separate them. Neva instinctively backs up—until her spine meets the door. Her breathe catches at the sheer closeness of him.

'He's so large... so tall.'

She cringes at herself, mentally berating herself for spacing out at a moment like this.

She quickly fumbles for her phone, yanking it from her back pocket and hurriedly dialing a number.

But when she looks up again, she finds the mysterious man already trudging to the door next to hers.

He presses the keys on the digital lock. A soft click sounds—the door opens—and he slips inside without a word.

Neva stands motionless, dumbfounded, her thumb hovering lifelessly in the air—just a breath away from pressing the call button.

The mysterious man peeks his head out of his apartment.

He chuckles. "Such a mysterious coincidence."

"I never deceive, Angel. It's as if fate brought us together. As if the universe celebrated the moment we met.

See? I'm your next-door neighbor." He flashes a wide grin and winks before gliding back inside, disappearing behind his door.

'What just happened?

Can my fate be any more cruel? That stalker lives next door?'

Suddenly, the door creaks open again.

"Oh, you're still here," he says.

"You'll catch a cold, gorgeous. Go warm up inside… or do you wanna come in here and let me help you get hot myself?" He flashes a mischievous smile.

He blabbers a lot!

Neva pales—nearly black and blue—fingers fumbling clumsily at the keypad.

She bolts inside her apartment, slamming the door shut… only to crack it open a second later, just enough for her hand to sneak out and grab the nearly abandoned grocery bags.

Then she shuts the door again, twice as fast—this time in absolute shame.

From the other side, the mysterious man bursts into hearty laughter, dreamy rays flickering in his dark eyes. His heart warm, fluttering.

He can't help but find her sinfully cute.

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