Mornings

I wake up shivering. I left my window open again and cold autumn air is rushing in, gracing my bare arms with goosebumps. Every time I inhale, my nostrils freeze. The cold has bitten through my thick comforter.

I peer up from where I lay at my alarm clock. It's 6:59 in the morning. One would think it's 1:00 in the morning with how dark it is outside. With a quivering lip, and half open eyes, I push out of my covers and tread over softly, flicking off the switch before the alarm can go off.

I really want to go back to sleep. I almost do for a second. Instead, I go over and close my window. Stiffly, I turn and pick my hoodie up from off the floor. It smells like a cold sweat. I pull it on anyways and leave the room.

As soon as I step out, I'm overcome with warmth. The stark contrast in temperatures with my room and the rest of the house always pleases me. I plod softly down the hallway till I reach the staircase leading down to the first level.

I descend the steps quietly and then move stealthily in the dark to the kitchen. It has become routine for me to make a mug of hot chocolate in their cooler weather. I'll then proceed to drink it in my room.

As I'm warming up some milk, I glance out the window and beyond, our backyard is splayed. Then just past that is his backyard.

Vincent Monet.

I glance at the time on the stove. It reads 7:04. Just a few more seconds... I start to smile when I see his bedroom light blink on.

It's dull, but it tells me he's awake. I always thought the time he got up was a bit early. From the dark of my kitchen I watch as his blinds slowly begin to open, and there he stands. Shirtless.

My heart gives a little bit of a kick, and then it begins to palpitate. Rapidly. My chest subtly begins to rise and fall, heavily. He tousles his dark hair. His eyes are always tired in the daily, that's one of his appeals, but this morning tired makes me gush.

He's lean, and he's tan.

He's also going to be the death of me.

He glances around. I have a good view of his room. It's a pretty dark layout, so that sometimes makes it hard to see. I swallow looking away. At this point, I feel more than intrusive.

He's got company.

A small petite brunette, swathed in his bed sheets. I can just hear her small bare feet pitter pattering up to him. I relish in the fact that he doesn't turn to face her. She slips her hands around his waist, resting her head in his shoulder.

They're like that for a moment, then he slowly pulls her hands away, turning to face her.

Though his back is to me, I can only imagine what he's telling her to make her face fall like that. I bare my teeth in delight. Ha!

He pauses. I watch closely as he casts a glance over his shoulder. His eyes lock with mine.

I startle at the direct contact. His eyes narrow instantly. I watch his hands release her wrists as he turns completely.

He's looking right at me.

I'm getting dizzy from the heat in my cheeks. Why is he- I immediately back away. Since when did I get so close to the window! Did he see me in this darkness?

My stomach gets queasy. His gaze is piercing and attractive, but cold and disgusted. Am I disgusting to him? He instantly reaches out and the blinds are no longer open. His light blinks out not long after. My hand squeezes my chest as I slowly turn back to face the milk heating on the stove.

When I see it begin to froth, I immediately remove it from the burner and pour it into my mug with the coco powder.

My hands are trembling.

I'm so embarrassed, it's humiliating. I just hope he knows it's not me. I don't want to be found out like that. I don't want to be found out at all. I'm fine with being in the shadows.

I grab the mug and a spoon, stirring the mixture shakily. I traipse over to the pantry and pull out a bag of marshmallows, adding in a good handful. I start making my way back to my room, trying to reassure myself. My legs are quivering as I slowly make my way up the steps.

He won't know that I saw him. I give a little nod.

He won't know I live here. 'That's right.'

He doesn't even know I exist.