Chapter 5

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Kirk squealed, his voice reaching a pitch that rivaled a boiling kettle as he bounced by the window. His movements were so energetic that he looked like a kid seeing his favorite pop star.

Hearing the shrill sound, Dale hurried into the room, worry etched across his face. “What is it?” He eyed Kirk, who hadn’t stopped hopping, his face pressed to the glass.

Kirk didn’t turn, his gaze fixed outside. “Have you seen the eye candy that’s moved in across the street?” His voice was almost reverent like he was speaking of a miracle or a rare collector’s item he’d just laid eyes on.

Dale raised an eyebrow, moving closer, his curiosity piqued. “No, I haven’t.”

Kirk finally tore his gaze from the window to face Dale, his eyes wide with excitement. “Well, you should. They’re gorgeous. I’m talking silver blond—like that brother and sister from Games of Whatever. The kind of blond that you think only exists in high fantasy worlds.

And they’re tanned like caramel with these smoky, whiskey-colored eyes that I could get lost in. The taller one, especially… Oh, he’s got this rugged look. Strong jaw, broad shoulders…I’d let him press the life out of me if he wanted to.”

Dale blinked, trying to keep up with Kirk’s gushing. “You…you can see all that from here?” He squinted, pressing his face against the glass. While he could vaguely make out two figures, he couldn’t fine-tune their features the way Kirk could. “What do you have, supervision?”

Kirk chuckled, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. He reached up and waggled a pair of binoculars hanging from his neck, like a flashy necklace he was proud to show off. “I used these, thank you very much,” he said, waving them dramatically in Dale’s face. “I’ve been doing some… research.”

“Research?” Dale couldn’t help but laugh at Kirk’s enthusiastic dedication. “This isn’t a science project, Kirk.”

“Oh, hush,” Kirk replied, shooing him away with a dismissive wave. “Look, I’m so excited that I’m not even going to rant about the mess you left in the kitchen last night. Or the fact that you ate me out of house and home,” he added, eyeing Dale with a mock glare.

Dale tried to hide a grin, shrugging. “What can I say? I was hungry.”

Kirk squinted, looking Dale up and down with exaggerated scrutiny. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. I’m going to bake our new neighbors a pie—to say welcome to the neighborhood.” He flicked his head back with all the flair of a runway model and sashayed toward the kitchen, humming as he went.

The binoculars still dangled from his neck, bouncing with each of his dramatic steps, and Dale couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s flair for theatrics.

Left alone by the window, Dale’s gaze drifted back across the street. Unconsciously, he pressed his face to the glass, trying to see what had made Kirk enthusiastic. The pull was stronger than mere curiosity—it felt almost magnetic, as though an invisible force were urging him to look closer.

And then he saw them.

The taller of the two men was like a sculpture come to life. He was broad-shouldered, his face chiseled with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. Even from a distance, Dale could see how his skin glowed, kissed by the sun, and the silver of his hair seemed to shimmer as he moved. There was something intoxicatingly intense about him—his presence radiated across the street, even through the window.

Dale’s pulse quickened, an involuntary reaction he couldn’t control. The more he looked, the harder it was to pull his gaze away, as if every cell in his body was tethered to this man by an unseen thread. *Why am I feeling like this?* Dale thought, his mind whirling. There was an inexplicable urge to cross the street, to walk right up to him, to touch him, to—

“Dale, snap out of it!” he said under his breath, shaking his head. But the urge was growing, overpowering his rational mind. He fought against it, pressing himself harder against the window as if closer proximity might quench the strange desire building inside him.

Then, the tall man looked over. Their eyes met, and Dale’s heart seemed to stop. For a moment, the world around him disappeared. All he could see were those eyes—whiskey-colored, piercing, and full of a depth that felt ancient and familiar. They were eyes that saw through him, that seemed to know him in a way no one else ever had.

Dale’s vision sharpened, almost supernaturally, zooming in on the man’s face as though he were seeing through Kirk’s binoculars. Every detail came into focus—the slight curve of his lips, the black streak that ran down the right side of his silver hair, the small, endearing lift in his upper lip when he smiled. It was perfection with a touch of imperfection, a face so striking that it felt like it had been etched into his memory forever.

The man smiled, waving his hand, and Dale’s breath caught. He stumbled back from the window, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to slow his pounding heart. Goosebumps prickled along his arms, his skin tingling with a sensation he couldn’t explain. His hands were clammy, his heart galloped in his chest, and—oh, God—his body was responding in a way that was both exhilarating and deeply embarrassing.

His back hit the wall, and he slid down it, eyes squeezed shut. But even with his eyes closed, the man’s face lingered in his mind like a vivid afterimage that wouldn’t fade.

What is happening to me? He wondered, panic mingling with the desire that pulsed through his veins. He could still feel the pull, that strange, primal urge to run across the street, to throw himself into the stranger’s arms, to—

Dale shivered, trying to shake off the overwhelming feeling. He needed to calm down. A cold shower—that’s what he needed—something to wash away the intensity coursing through him.

From the kitchen, Kirk’s voice floated through the air, his off-key singing punctuated by the clatter of bowls and utensils. At any other time, the sound would have made Dale smile, but now, it became an anchor to pull him back to reality, away from the allure of the man across the street.

Kirk was here, his best friend, his rock. Maybe talking to him would help dissipate the inexplicable ache in his chest.

But as he pushed himself up from the floor, another image flashed into his mind—a vision of himself pushing Kirk against the kitchen counter, flour dusting the air around them as he bent him over, hands gripping his hips. The idea was so vivid that Dale could practically feel the weight of Kirk’s body, the warmth of his skin—

“No!” Dale yelped, shaking his head furiously. But the image wouldn’t leave. It burned in his mind, filling him with a wild, feral desire that frightened and thrilled him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vision away, but it grew stronger.

Hearing Dale’s shout, Kirk rushed into the room, his face a mix of confusion and panic. “Dale? Are you okay?” He took a step forward, reaching out as if to comfort him.

That broke Dale out of his trance. He bolted, skirting around Kirk and dashing out of the room, barely registering the look of shock on his friend’s face as he barreled down the hallway. “I’m fine! Just—just need a shower!” he called, slamming the bathroom door behind him and locking it.

Breathing heavily, Dale stumbled into the shower, twisting the cold knob with shaking hands. Ice-cold water cascaded over him, shocking his overheated skin. He gasped. The coldness jolted him back to reality, chasing away the visions that had overtaken him. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, feeling the chill seep into his bones, calming the fire that had blazed so suddenly.

Kirk’s voice grew louder outside the bathroom as he pounded on the door, a string of indignant words pouring out. “Dale! You jerk! You nearly knocked me flat on my ass! I came in here because you were screaming like a banshee, and that’s how you thank me?”

Dale couldn’t respond. He closed his eyes, focusing on the cold water, trying to drown out Kirk’s voice and the lingering memory of the man across the street. He had never felt anything like this—this raw, overpowering need. It was as though his mind and body were no longer his own.

“Fine!” Kirk huffed, his voice muffled through the door. “Stay in there and sulk! But don’t expect any pie when you come out!”

Kirk’s footsteps faded down the hallway, and Dale let out a shaky sigh. He owed Kirk an apology, but at the moment, his thoughts were consumed by something else. Something big, dark, and attractive…waiting across the street.

“Damn, he’s hot.”