Beyond obsessed

Chapter one

Edward

She has no idea I’m here.

She never does.

From the shadow outside her apartment window, I watch her move through her living room-hair down, shoes off, defenses lowered. Grace. The woman who walked into my coffee shop months ago and ruined my ability to breath like a normal human being.

The first time I saw her, I forgot the orders I was making. Those eyes—ice-blue and unafraid. That soft, wavy brown hair she tries to tame but never really can. And that body… the one she hides under oversized sweaters as if fabric could erase curves like that.

I told my cashier to take a break just so I could ring her up myself. I needed to hear her voice again. The second she laughed—God—my knees almost buckled. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was dangerous.

And now, as I watch her sink into her couch, scrolling through her phone, something familiar flashes on her screen.

My face.

My profile.

Hinder.

My stomach drops. I haven’t touched that app in a year. Back when I didn’t care who I went home with. Back when love was a joke and women were temporary. The pictures are old. The bio is worse. I look like the kind of man I used to be—reckless, emotionless, a man who took and never kept.

But then she hesitates. Looks closer.

And swipes right.

Heat rushes down my spine. She wants me. Even if she doesn’t know how much I want her. How long I’ve watched her. How long I’ve memorized her routines, her soft habits, the things she thinks no one notices.

I pull out my phone, turn the brightness down, and redownload the app. My hands aren’t shaking—men like me don’t shake—but my pulse is loud in my ears as I log in.

She’s my first notification.

My first match.

My first mistake.

Or maybe she’s the best one I’ll ever make.

Grace

I didn’t want to download Hinder. God knows I didn’t. But after three failed blind dates my friends swore were “perfect matches,” I caved just to shut them up. I’m not looking for a man with a sleek suit and a trust fund. I want someone… real. Someone with calloused hands, inked skin, and a body built from work, not a gym membership.

I’m scrolling, bored out of my mind, when he appears. The man from the coffee shop. Only this time, he’s shirtless, not hiding behind that dark work uniform that never did him justice.

I stare before I can stop myself.

His arms look big enough to lift me without effort, tattoos winding up and across his chest. His beard brushes his collarbone like it’s framing the kind of mouth that ruins a woman for anyone else.

I’ve dreamed about him—literally. Woken up breathless and blushing. And I told myself he couldn’t possibly be real. No man looks at me like that. No man like *him.*

But here he is.

On my screen.

One swipe away.

I don’t even check his profile. I swipe right instantly and pray he won’t think I’m delusional.

The match notification is immediate.

And the message waiting for me?

It’s only four words.

Four words that make my stomach flip and my thighs press together.