Getting blood out of a white carpet was difficult but not impossible.
I'd managed to get the stains down to a faded brown colour when I rewarded myself with a much-needed break. The fumes from the cleaning products were making me nauseous, so I picked up the bag of trash and went outside to get some fresh air. I stood on my front veranda as I filled my lungs, which were desperate for clean air. The street smelled of electricity, showing the growing storm that was still brewing in the distance, even if it had calmed currently. It was still raining, but at least it was down to a drizzle. Beyond that strong scent of electricity, I could smell the garbage—but not from the trash in my hand. The bin was still tipped over, sending me back to the ghastly image I'd seen last night, and there were contents spilt out onto the road. The road smelled wet, which was a scent I couldn't quite explain, but all those scents weren't what caught my attention. It was something else. Something that made my gaze beeline toward the moving truck parked out the front of Mrs Marsby's house. Motor fumes.... No, that wasn't it.
My gaze continued to search, tracking the sweet, alluring scent to its source. And that's when I found it.... Found him.
I swallowed as I watched the tall man lift a box from the truck. He was shirtless, showing tanned skin, which was protruding with muscles. His hair was medium brown with a slight curl and came to his shoulders, long enough for him to tie up if he wanted to, but he chose to leave it down in its rain-damp chaos. He was walking across the lawn as he turned to glance at me. It was just a look, no longer than a heartbeat, but it made my blood run faster. As though I was possessed, I dropped my bag of trash and strode toward him.
I managed to catch him on his way back to the truck.
"Hi," I said lamely.
He was still walking to the truck and ignoring my existence as he picked up another box, then another, piling them on top of each other. The box wasn't marked, but I could see something metal inside of them which looked heavy. His muscles tensed, but he picked up the box with ease as he started to carry it back toward the house.
I followed him. "I'm Alex. I live next door." I pointed lamely, not that he seemed to be listening to me. He just placed down the box, scratched his head, and then moved it again, piling it on top of another box on the front veranda. "I just wanted to...uh. You're not deaf or something, are you? I guess that's a stupid thing to ask...." I mumbled the last bit to myself. "If you were, you wouldn't hear me to answer that, and now I'm just rambling on—"
The hot guy turned to look at me, and I swallowed sharply. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown—warm like honey, like something I could swim in, and he was tall, like a whole head a half taller than I was. Not that that was difficult to achieve, I guess.
"Are you talking to me?" he asked.
I looked around. "There's no one else here?"
He stared at me. "Hm," was all he replied, and then he walked past me and back toward the truck.
I felt my eyebrows furrow before I chased him again, meeting him halfway across the lawn. "Anyway, as I was saying," I continued walking beside him as he moved toward the truck, only this time, as he picked up a box, I picked up another, "I'm Alex. I live next door, and I just wanted to introduce myself."
"I heard you the first time," he replied coldly.
"Oh, okay, it's just that you didn't really, um, acknowledge, so I wasn't exactly sure." I struggled to keep up with him, grunting a little as I put down the box of.... Chains. Again, my eyebrows furrowed. "So, BDSM or serial killer?" I joked.
He closed the box. "You're not going away, are you?"
I shook my head.
He exhaled loudly, making no effort to hide his annoyance.
"Are you moving in?" I asked him.
"Sure," he replied with a shrug.
"Why? Did Mrs Marsby die?" I wondered, then adding to my prior joke swiftly added, "Did you kill her 'cause I can help you hide the body."
He stared.
I stared back.
"She's definitely not dead," he said.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
He just grunted and walked back toward the truck. Yet again, like an invisible string was pulling me toward him, I followed behind him and continued helping to unload the moving truck. He picked up several boxes with a grunt.
"Strong and silent type," I said, picking up yet another box...of chains. "I like that. You know some people just talk and talk....."
"Hm."
"So, why are you here?" I wondered. "Not that I'm complaining, but what I mean is, uh, where's Mrs Marsby? It's just that she sits out here every single day—"
"She's sick," he said with a huff.
"Oh. Are you, uh, related to her?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Do you need.... Do you want me to, uh.... Spaghetti."
He was still staring at me as we stopped on the veranda again. "What?"
"I have spaghetti." I pointed toward my house. "I can bring it to you."
His gaze searched mine. "If I tell you my name, will you leave?"
I nodded slowly.
"Jericho."
"Okay." I chewed on my lip. "Do you have a last name?"
"No."
"Neither do I. Isn't that weird?" The longer he stared at me, the more lost to myself I felt. It was like I was sinking into the soul of his eyes, like this incredible forcefield had wrapped around us, making us two the only people in existence.
And I was perfectly fine with that.
"You're supposed to leave now," he said.
"Okay." I nodded slowly. "But before I leave.... Are you aware that you have a smell about you?"
"I've heard," he grumbled, rolling his eyes, and then he moved back across the lawn.
I tried to will my legs to go, but it was physically impossible.
I needed to know him.
I needed to know everything.
"Why don't you wear a shirt?!" I yelled out. "It's freezing. You'll get sick, too."
Jericho looked visibly frustrated as he picked up the last box and closed the back of the truck, locking it afterwards. "I run hot," he told me as he approached. He wasn't wrong. "You're tiny, and in shorts and a tee, you should worry about yourself."
"I get hot, too."
Jericho placed down the box and stared at me. "You need to leave now, Alex."
I melted at the sound of my name on his tongue.
"Okay, can I come back later?"
"No."
"Right."
It felt like an act against nature, but I forced my legs to walk away. When I reached the lawn, I stared over my shoulder, only to see him already looking at me. He averted his gaze instantly, but I could see it in his eyes—that look.
It was like he was curious too.
A/N:
Have you ever been completely obsessed with someone? (Can be a fictional character).
Let me know in the comments! ◡̈