Chapter 3 – The First Words
775 Words
Brittany didn’t expect to see him in daylight.
That was what unsettled her the most.
She was halfway down the sidewalk with her headphones in, music low, attention scattered between her phone and the quiet street ahead. The snow had melted into slush, the sky a dull gray that made everything feel suspended in time.
Then she felt it.
That same pressure in the air. That same pull in her chest.
She slowed before she even knew why.
He stood outside the small coffee shop on the corner, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated. The light caught his eyes differently in the day—still pale blue, still piercing, but sharper now. More real.
Watching her.
Not surprised.
Not predatory.
Waiting.
Brittany stopped a few feet away, heart thudding. She pulled one headphone down but didn’t speak.
Neither did he.
For a moment, they just stood there while the world moved around them—cars passing, a door opening behind him, steam curling into the air from inside the café.
“You’ve been staring at my house,” she finally said.
His mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. An acknowledgment.
“You noticed.”
“I notice things,” she replied coolly. “That doesn’t explain why you’re doing it.”
Matt studied her for a long second, as if choosing each word with care. “Curiosity.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s funny. Most people knock.”
“I’m not most people.”
That earned him a sharp look. “No,” she said. “You’re not.”
The silence stretched again, heavier now. Brittany became acutely aware of the distance between them. Close enough to speak. Too far to touch. It felt intentional.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Matt.”
She didn’t offer hers right away. He noticed. Something flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe.
“And you live across the street,” she said.
“Yes.”
“In the creepy mansion.”
“People call it that.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Brittany crossed her arms, studying him openly now. He didn’t shift under her gaze. Didn’t glance at her body like most men did. His attention stayed on her face, her eyes, as if that was where the real danger lay.
“You watch a lot for someone who claims curiosity,” she said.
“I watch because it’s safer than acting.”
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
That gave her pause.
She should have walked away. Should have laughed it off, chalked him up to a strange neighbor with too much money and too little sense.
Instead, she asked, “What do you think you know about me?”
Matt’s jaw tightened.
“Enough,” he said quietly. “And not nearly enough.”
Her pulse quickened. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you right now.”
Something about the way he said right now made her skin prickle.
A door slammed behind him as someone exited the café, breaking the moment. When Brittany looked back at Matt, his expression was carefully neutral again.
“You should go,” he said.
She scoffed. “You don’t get to tell me what—”
“You’re being watched,” he interrupted, voice low. “And not just by me.”
The humor drained from her face. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“It’s supposed to keep you alive.”
Silence fell between them, thick and dangerous.
Finally, Brittany took a step back. “If you’re trying to play some mysterious protector, you’re doing a terrible job.”
“I’m not trying,” Matt said. “I am.”
She shook her head slowly. “You don’t know me.”
His eyes darkened. “That’s what worries me.”
She turned away then, heart pounding as she walked toward the café door. Her hand hovered on the handle for a second before she spoke without looking back.
“You should stop watching my house.”
Matt didn’t hesitate. “I can’t.”
She paused. “Why?”
“Because the night you walked into that party,” he said, voice steady but strained, “everything changed.”
Brittany’s fingers tightened on the handle.
When she finally turned around, he was gone.
She didn’t see him again that day.
But that night, as she lay awake staring at the ceiling, she realized something that made sleep impossible.
Matt hadn’t asked her name.
As if he already knew it.
- Writer
