Obsessed With My Neighbor: Romantic Collection
The muffled hum of the city outside, the faint creak of the lobby floor beneath our shoes, even the soft hiss of the elevator closing, it all disappeared.
“Morning,” he said. His voice was calm, easy, carrying that familiar warmth that made my chest tighten without warning.
“Morning,” I replied, trying to steady my breath as I adjusted my scarf. My hands were cold, my heart inexplicably fast, and I had to remind myself that we were just neighbors. Nothing more. Nothing complicated even though my mind refused to listen.
“You’re up early,” he said with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Somewhat,” I admitted. “You too, I suppose.”
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