Secrets in the dark

This is just embarrassing. Here I am at my neighbor’s house, holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies like some Girl Scout, all so people around here won’t think I’m rude. Fortunately, this is the last house. The other neighbors had warned me about the man who lived here, saying he was too quiet, always keeping to himself, as if someone who doesn’t enjoy gossip is automatically dangerous. I shift the tray to one hand so I can ring the doorbell. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen… twenty. Finally, the door slowly opens. And sweet baby Jesus, he was as handsome as they come. Tall and muscular, with blond hair and green eyes behind round glasses. He doesn’t say anything at first. I can feel his gaze moving over me, taking in my small white dress covered in yellow flowers, my long brown hair pulled gently into a ponytail, my blue eyes, and my fit figure before finally meeting my gaze. This doesn’t feel like an embarrassing situation now. “May I help you?” he asks in a deep, rumbling voice that makes me bite my bottom lip. “Hi. My name is Arianna. I’m new to the neighborhood,” I reply, trying not to let my eyes wander down his body—especially not to his pecs. Hehe, pecs. “I brought some cookies to introduce myself.” He glances down at the cookies for a brief moment before his gaze locks onto mine again. “My name is Alexander,” he says, stepping aside to let me in without actually inviting me. I walk into the house, looking around curiously as I step into the living room. A beige couch. A large TV. A coffee table. Paintings on the walls. A shelf filled with books. Cozy, but minimalistic. “Please, sit,” he offers. I take a seat on the couch, setting the tray of cookies on the coffee table. Gently, I smooth down my dress, trying not to look as nervous as I feel. He does the same, settling into the armchair opposite me and leaning back. The black T-shirt clings to his broad frame, outlining the hard lines of his chest and shoulders in a way that is almost unfair. “So, Arianna, what brings you to this neighborhood?” “My company offered me a new position at their branch here in town.” He suddenly stands up, making me jump slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t offer you anything to drink. I'm not used to it. People don't usually come by.” “Don’t worry about it, I won’t be long. I’m waiting for the moving truck.” Why did he jump up like a startled rabbit? “Oh yes, of course. Do you need any help with unpacking?” he asks, looking at me with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine, thank you.” After a few more minutes of polite small talk, I make my way back across the street to my house, arriving just as the moving truck pulls up. I glance over my shoulder at Alexander’s place, taking in the obsessively trimmed lawn, the white picket fence, and the blue front door. But what catches my attention the most is him. He’s standing at the window, the curtain slightly pulled aside, watching me. A shiver runs down my spine at the intensity of his gaze. I shake my head, forcing myself to look away just as the truck comes to a stop. I greet the movers and unlock the front door. The next few hours pass in a blur of directing boxes, making coffee, and exchanging bits of small talk. After the movers leave, I collapse onto the couch, burying my face in the cushions. And then the doorbell rings. I groan in frustration. I try to ignore it, but it just keeps ringing. And ringing. With a tired sigh, I pull myself up and make my way to the front door in slow, exhausted steps. Peering through the peephole, I spot one of my neighbors—an older lady, Mrs. Collins, or whatever her name was. I sigh, running a hand through my hair before opening the door reluctantly. “Mrs. Collins, how may I help you?” I ask with a forced polite smile. “Oh, dear…” she starts, pausing before walking into my house uninvited, which is honestly really annoying. “I saw you walking into that man’s house,” she says, a slight tremor in her voice as she closes the door behind her. “Alexander?” “Yes. Him.” She glances around my house curiously. “You need to know, dear, he is not a good person. So secretive… so quiet. He’s been here for ten years now, and he never greets any of us. Rarely even leaves the house.” So, he’s introverted, and all the neighbors are scared of him? I almost roll my eyes, but manage to keep it to myself. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Collins. I can take care of myself.” “I just don’t want you ending up in a ditch somewhere, honey. You’re such a sweet girl.” She reaches out and gently pats my cheek. “I’m leaving now. My old man will start complaining that I’m bothering you.” She turns, opens the door, and leaves. I mutter a quiet “Good night” before my eyes drift toward Alexander’s house. It’s so dark over there, as if no one’s home. But what’s strange is that I can make out his silhouette at the second-floor window. Is he watching me or something? I raise my hand and wave, but he just stands there, perfectly still. Maybe he is weird. Weird and hot. Why does the universe do this to my heart? Later that night, after a hot shower and some Chinese takeout, I climb into bed and wrap myself in the blanket. Finally. FINALLY. Relaxation. Sleep. It’s my first day at the new job tomorrow, and I refuse to look like a zombie. I drift off almost immediately. But then… the dream comes. I’m in the woods, running, my heart hammering, when someone starts chasing me. I stumble and fall, and a rough hand grabs my arm. I spin around—and there he is. Alexander. Knife in hand, eyes glinting in the dark. Yes, daddy. No. No, hold up. Not the time. I jolt awake, blinking into the dark room. The curtains are drawn, but in the corner I can make out a man-shaped silhouette. My heart races. I fling myself upright, groping for the light switch—but there’s nothing there. Of course. My mind is playing games. Probably Mrs. Collins’ terrifying words about Alexander, combined with his mysterious presence earlier today, are just ganging up on me. And honestly? It’s working.