Meet Kristal Jane Anderson.
The girl that feels as though she was stripped from all the joys of life on one ungodly night. A night that changed her whole perspective on love forever, a night in which she stopped believing in it's existence, a night...
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Kristal Anderson
Aunt Jenna's hand on my cheek brought my eyes back to meet her gaze, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,"
I smiled at her and brought my hand up to rest atop hers on my cheek as I leaned more into her touch, "So are you,"
She grinned and leaned in to lay a kiss on my forehead before walking out the room.
I managed to contain my excitement until Aunt Jenna left my room. I was back at my reading nook in a matter of seconds. I needed to know what that truck was doing here or rather who was moving in.
Knowing how uneventful my days of people-watching in the same neighborhood with the same people usually were, this would be the highlight of my day. . . which was kind of sad.
No one had gotten out of the gray moving truck and for a second I wondered if they had gotten the wrong address, until the engine was finally turned off and the door to the driver's side opened.
A man got out. His height was the very first thing I noticed. He was tall. And muscular. He wore black; a black t-shirt, black jeans and black sneakers completed the outfit.
His eyes roamed the neighborhood for a few moments as he ran his fingers through his hair, but a few stubborn strands fell back onto his forehead.
Details of his face weren't particularly clear like the color of his eyes– but they were either brown or hazel like my own– due to our distance but particular things about his face were hard to miss. Like his starkly angular face; a jaw that looked like ol' man upstairs took his sweet time on, high and defined cheekbones, a nose that did nothing but bring perfection to his already perfect face.
Some people just truly were God's favorite.
He made his way to the front door of his new house past the front porch after he finished surveilling the neighborhood.
Was he moving in on his own? I found myself asking half expecting the passenger side door to open and reveal a roommate? A lover? But it seemed like he was the only one there.
I watched as he began carrying box after box into the house. I didn't quite know why I was even watching for such a long period of time, in most cases I would have probably already lost interest and moved on to staring at the next car or the next person or the next...anything. But with him, I watched for what could have easily been hours, somehow finding intrigue in the repetitiveness of his actions.
I was mesmerized by him. But can you blame me? It's not everyday that a supermodel looking man moves in nextdoor. Some eye candy after being inside for 92 days never hurt anyone.
My mesmerization for him only grew when he came back out after discarding yet another box with his shirt off, a small towel thrown loosely over the back of his neck. And it totally wasn't because of the way his abs looked like they were sculpted from the finest of stones, or how his sun kissed skin glistened with a coat of sweat– although that was totally fun to look at– the tattoos scattered around his upper body were what intrigued me. There were some on his arms and chest and back. I couldn't see them in full detail but I could make out the outline of a few words and numbers, and a few more intricate drawings. I found myself wondering what exactly they said; were they special dates? Someone's birthday perhaps? Were the words specific quotes? Poems?
My mind wandered off for longer than I'd realized but everything came running back to me when his eyes wandered up the length of my house as he used the towel around the back of his neck to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
Our eyes met.
The world seemed to slow down to a halt. My body broke out into a cold sweat but my face felt like it was overheating. It grew hotter and hotter with every breath I took.
Crap. He was staring at me. I was staring back. He had caught me staring at him, watching him like a creep. My face grew 10 times hotter at the thought of what he might be thinking right now. Staring up at me.
But I'm sure it was somewhere along the lines of; look at that strange girl just spying on me like a creep and why the fuck won't she break eye contact.
I didn't know either. My eyes seemed to have gotten a life of their own, they wouldn't break away from his gaze. And his wouldn't break from mine either.
His hand that was wiping the sweat off his forehead halted its movement. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile, a smile that brought a whole new look to his face, he looked angelical, peaceful. His free hand lifted up and he waved at me, the wave was slow, almost hesitant.
He could see me.
A stupid part of my brain had assumed that inside this house I was invisible to the people outside, after almost 100 days of people watching no one had ever caught me, no one had looked this way; up at my window.
I didn't know how to react. After 92 days of strictly speaking to aunt Jenna in person and my best friend through the phone, socializing wasn't my forté.
I panicked.
Before I could even fully process what I was doing, my hand reached for the curtain and tucked it shut in one swift motion.
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