Ethan hadn't meant to notice her so much.
It started subtly—glimpses in the hallway, catching sight of her through his peephole as she came and went at odd hours. Then, it became something more. He found himself watching from his small kitchen window, the angle just perfect to peek at the balcony across from his. Sienna's balcony.
She spent a lot of time there. Smoking. Talking on the phone. Sometimes just leaning over the railing, staring at the world below with a pensive expression that didn't match her usual playful demeanor.
Ethan told himself it wasn't watching—not in a creepy way. He wasn't spying. He was simply… noticing. Observing. After all, she was right there. So close. So easy to see.
Tonight was no different. He stood by his kitchen sink, pretending to rinse a plate as he glanced through the window. Sienna was out on the balcony, dressed in a silk robe that barely clung to her shoulders, her long legs crossed lazily as she scrolled through her phone. A cigarette dangled between her fingers, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light.
Ethan swallowed. She looked effortless. Beautiful. Untouchable.
The sounds of the city buzzed in the background—distant car horns, laughter from the street below—but his focus was entirely on her.
Then, she moved. Stretched her arms above her head, the silk of her robe slipping just enough to reveal the smooth skin of her collarbone, the teasing hint of lace underneath. His grip tightened around the edge of the sink. God.
A part of him knew he should look away. Knew he shouldn't be standing here, stealing glimpses like a nervous schoolboy. But he couldn't stop himself.
And then, she turned.
Ethan froze.
Sienna's gaze flicked up from her phone, directly toward him. For a second, he thought maybe she hadn't actually seen him—maybe she was just staring in his direction without realizing he was there.
Then she smirked.
His stomach plummeted.
She knew.
His ears burned as he jerked away from the window, his heart hammering against his ribs. He tried to play it cool, pretending to suddenly find great interest in the cracked countertop, but it was too late. She had caught him.
Seconds later, there was a knock at his door.
Ethan's pulse spiked. He stood still, debating whether or not to answer. Maybe if he stayed silent, she would think he wasn't home. Maybe she'd leave. Maybe—
Another knock, this time lighter, more playful.
"Ethan." Her voice was muffled through the door but unmistakably amused.
Shit.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already messy hair before cautiously approaching the door. His fingers hovered over the handle before he finally pulled it open.
Sienna stood there, still in her robe, the thin fabric tied loosely around her waist. Up close, the scent of vanilla and smoke curled around him, making his thoughts tangle. She leaned against the doorframe, her head tilted, studying him the way a cat might study a trapped mouse.
"Were you watching me?" she asked, her voice smooth, teasing.
Ethan's throat went dry. "W-What? No! I—" He floundered, the heat of humiliation creeping up his neck.
She grinned. "Relax, newbie. I don't mind."
That only made it worse.
Ethan blinked at her, unsure how to respond. His instincts told him to deny it, to retreat, but the way she was looking at him—like she enjoyed his flustered reaction—made him feel like a cornered rabbit.
"I wasn't," he mumbled weakly, knowing full well she wouldn't believe him.
She chuckled, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against his chest before stepping back. "Sure, Ethan. Whatever you say."
Then, without another word, she turned and sauntered back toward her apartment, leaving him standing there, breathless and entirely undone.
He stared after her, his heart still hammering against his ribs. His fingers twitched at his sides, his skin still tingling where she had touched him. He barely knew this girl, but she already had an effortless way of unraveling him, making him question everything.
Ethan shut his door and leaned against it, exhaling heavily. He needed to get a grip. This wasn't high school. He wasn't some hormonal teenager who didn't know how to function around an attractive woman. He was a grown man. A man who had moved here to escape chaos, not step right into it.
And yet…
Sienna was unlike anyone he'd ever met. She was confident, playful, completely at ease in her own skin. Everything he wasn't. And that made her dangerous.
He pushed off the door, running a hand down his face before moving toward his small couch. He sank into it, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself to think about something—anything—other than the girl next door.
But as much as he tried, he couldn't shake the way she had looked at him. The way her lips had curved into that knowing smirk. The way her voice had curled around his name like a secret.
This wasn't just going to be a problem.
This was going to be a disaster.