Roxxy walked.
Not because she wanted to, but because standing still made her feel like she was drowning in his presence. Her steps were quick, uneven, almost frantic—anything to escape the heat crawling up her neck.
Behind her, Andrew followed.
Not too close.
Not far enough.
Just… there.
She could feel him even without looking. Every time her pace changed, his adjusted, matching her stride like he'd known her rhythm long before tonight.
She hated how aware she was of him.
After a full minute of tense silence, she finally risked a glance back.
He wasn't looking at the ground or at the street.
He was looking directly at her.
Roxxy snapped her head forward so fast she nearly tripped.
"Careful," Andrew called softly.
She didn't know whether to scream or hide or yell at him. "Stop staring at me."
"I'm making sure you don't fall."
"That's not— that's not what I meant!"
"I know."
When she reached the end of the alley, she took a sharp turn onto the main road, where streetlights glowed gold against the empty sidewalks. At least here she wasn't alone.
Except she was.
Because Andrew didn't count as "company"—he was a shadow that followed rules only he knew.
Roxxy's apartment building came into view. Relief flooded her, too early, too naive.
She reached her front steps and finally turned to face him fully.
He stood three paces away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but gaze intense enough to pin her in place.
"You can stop here," she said, trying for firmness.
"No."
Her pulse jumped.
"No?"
"I said I'd make sure you got home," Andrew replied. "That includes the door."
"That's— that's not necessary!"
His head tilted slightly. "Do you lock the door behind you every time?"
Roxxy frowned. "Yes?"
"Good," he murmured.
"I like that."
The way he said it made her shiver.
She stepped backward onto the first stair. Andrew didn't follow; he just watched—shoulders still, expression unreadable, eyes tracking every twitch of her body.
Roxxy inhaled shakily.
"You're not coming inside."
The corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn't a smile, but dangerously close.
"If I wanted to be inside," he said quietly, "a locked door wouldn't stop me."
Her breath caught sharp.
Before she could speak, he added—voice softer, even darker:
"But I'm not here to invade your space. Not tonight."
Not tonight?
The implication wrapped around her like fingers at her throat.
She clutched the railing for balance. "Andrew… what do you want from me?"
For a moment, the world held still.
Then he stepped closer—just one step—but it felt like the night folded around him.
His voice dropped to a whisper:
"Everything."
Her heart skipped so violently it hurt.
Andrew reached out—slow, deliberate—and touched the strap of her bag, brushing it lightly with his fingertips. Not her skin. Not her clothes. Just the strap.
But the contact felt electric.
"I'll see you soon, Roxxy."
She didn't ask what he meant.
She didn't want to hear the answer.
Andrew stepped back into the dim-lit street, fading into the shadows as easily as if he belonged there.
Roxxy hurried inside, locked the door, leaned against it—
—and only then realized her hands were shaking