Neva's cheeks and ears burn so hot she can almost feels them catch fire.
Her lips part... then press shut again, words failing her completely.
She glances around in vancant thought, when she feels it, a hand brushing over her hair, its lingering warmth settling briefly against the crown of her head.
An electric jolt shoots through her nerves, sending her stumbling back.
Oh no. She's going to crash into the shelves.
In a sudden whirl of charged haze, he reaches for her, his hand closing around her elbow.
A gasp escapes her as he pulls her toward him, her chest colliding with his for a fleeting heartbeat.
She freezes against him, suspended in a clouded haze of held breath and his solid warmth.
She presses her palms against the firm plane of his stomach, pushing him away almost immediately.
How... How dare he?
"I just—" he says.
"Don't!" she cries, lifting a warning hand.
He arches his brows.
Is he trying to take advantage of her?
How could she be such a fool!
A whine draws her gaze to the little boy in the same aisle. The mother's eyes catch hers before she drags her child away along with the shopping cart.
Without a second thought,
Neva grabs her own cart, almost filled with useless stuff and pushes it toward the cash counter.
She doesn't care if he follows her anymore, but then she notices the colourful, judging
glances of the scattered customers' directed at her.
What must they be thinking?
Can her day be any more worse?
If only she could teach him a lesson with a punch or two straight to that tall, proud nose!
But he's a big, muscled man.
And easily six feet three... perhaps even more.
She barely registers the young woman at the counter ringing up her purchases,
nor does she realise she's paying or collecting her bags until she's finally out of the convenience store.
He casually falls into stride beside her, and now she's annoyed, so, so annoyed!
"Let me help you with the bags," he says.
"No!" she snaps.
"I won't run away with your groceries." He tucks his hands inside the
hoodie pockets. "Just trying to help."
"I don't need your help!" she retorts, quickening her pace.
Is he really going to follow her all the way to her apartment?
"Seriously!" she exclaims. "Why are you following me?"
"I'm not," he says calmly, which only fuels her anger.
She shoots him a sharp glare.
He only smiles. "I'm just on my way home, too."
The lanterns flicker to life, casting a deceptive warm across his face.
"You better not be playing with me."
Her heart blazes with one singular goal, to reach her apartment, safe and sound, without further humiliation and without being taken advantage of.
How dare he touch her?
Even if she was falling, how dare he touch her?
Stars glitter across the sky as the crimson dusk deepens into a shadowed evening, and they take the narrow path leading to the residential buildings.
An incoming car's headlights sting her eyes as she widens the distance between herself and the man behind her. When she opens her eyes again, the charming Rose Byrne apartment rises into view.
She pushes open the narrow irons gates, the bags digging into her palm as she hurries up the stairs.
Her bags drop to the floor with a thud as she hastily types the code into the
digital lock, her breath growing shallow.
Quiet footsteps follow the beep of the door unlocking, and her gaze flicks to the mysterious man crossing the lamplit corridor towards her.
Tailing her around still?
She gave him a chance.
She tried to believe him.
Now, he's left her with no choice.
"I'm calling the cops," she says, her voice tight with barely restrained anger. "You dare deceive me? I just got this place! And now I'll have to move again?"
"This is my home," he says with a small shrug.
"Don't lie to me!" she cries out. "I hate liars the most!"
Her heart drops as he advances, his expression shifting into something intense, unreadable for a chilling heartbeat before he smooths it over.
Her back meets the cold wooden slab of the door, her heart hammering in her ears at the heat of his gaze.
Her breath catches as his hand comes to rest beside her head, caging her in.
Her throat tightens as he studies her face, as though memorizing every flicker of emotion that passes through it.
Almost dazed by the faint scent of cedar, she finally regains her senses as a slow, satisfied smirk curls his lips.
Before she can shove him away, he steps back.
He watches her for a moment longer, before turning away.
And before she knows it, she's desperately fumbling for her phone in her jeans pocket.
A chime draws her gaze toward the apartment door beside hers as a voice comes from the speaker.
"This is Vernellia's emergency services. How can we help you?"
Neva freezes as the mysterious man pushes open the door and silently slips inside, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.
"Hello," asks the voice. "What's your emergency?"
The door next to hers cracks open again, and he peeks his head out. "Oh, you're still here?" he drawls. "You'll catch a cold, gorgeous. Go warm up inside... or," he adds, his smirk deepening— "do you want to come in here and let me help you get hot myself?"
Neva gasps, then spins around,
fumbling with the door as she darts inside, the voice in the speaker asking about her emergency again.
She slams the door shut, and finally ends the call.
Then, realizing her hands are empty,
she cracks the door open, enough for her hand to reach out and snatch the groceries.
She slams it shut again,
harder this time, sliding down the floor and burying her face against her knees.
From the other side, laughter ripples through the corridor.
She whimpers into her knees in utter humiliation.
How could her Father allow this to happen to her?!
How is she ever supposed to face him again?
He was telling the truth.
He's actually her next-door neighbour!