For four years, I've been living as a mere fraction of the person I used to be.
I was just... existing.
Or at least I was until a new neighbor moved into my building and captured my attention, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. For the first time in four years, something... stirred deep inside me.
I was obsessed from day one, unable to keep my eyes away from the apartment's bedroom window directly across from mine, like a voyeur.
The window blinds were never closed, giving me a clear view in, from the outside.
And therefore, the object of my most recent desire was always on display for me, and the more times I watched the show put on, the surer I became the curtains were left open on purpose for me.
So I stared, waiting, and hoping to catch glimpses of the tanned skin colored with bright tattoos, or the dark brown hair that looked like silk, or the sexy as hell piercing green eyes that would stare back at me as I watched.
The problem though?
The object of my desire, the very thing I'd become obsessed with sexually... was a man.
And I was... straight.
Or at least I had been.