““What are you doing out here this late?” A frown pulls at his mouth. “It’s one in the morning.” “Me?” I walk across the lawn slowly, still not fully trusting. “What are you doing here?” And no, I don’t believe he had just been driving by. “Are you stalking me?” Hunting me? I want to add. He blinks. Some of the tension carving his face loosens then. Replaced with something else. He rubs at the back of his neck. The move is self-conscious. Innately human. Embarrassed. “I—” “You are ,” I pronounce, an unbidden smile coming to my mouth. “Look,” he grumbles, his eyes angry. Defensive. “I just wanted to see where you live.” I stop before him. “Why?” He rubs the back of his neck again, this time the motion is savage, annoyed. With me or himself, I’m not sure.””
