For nearly a week, James left the café where he worked and with ritual-like precision headed straight to his buddy Steve's place to house sit while he was out of town. The opportunity to have time to himself, away from his irritating roommates was too good to pass up. But the day he arrived, he was surprised to have rediscovered an old obsession—Kim.
Kim was Steve's neighbor and had once been James' co-worker at the café. She had only worked with James a handful of times on cross shifts, which James simultaneously loved and hated. For, every time she so much as glanced his way, he would suddenly become awkward and shy. He would stumble over his words answering the simplest of questions she asked, he was so intimidated by her.
Though she only stood a little over five feet tall, she might as well have been a mountain. The thought of ever being able to talk to her, let alone ask her out, seemed an insurmountable undertaking. Still, he was determined to build up the courage to do just that. But, before he had the chance to try, she had left the café and taken another job. James kicked himself for not acting sooner, for not taking the opportunity to at least try to get to know her better.
Then, there she was—literally the girl next door to Steve's house. James stared unabashedly—albeit half concealed by the blinds of the second-story window that looked over the yard to the rear of her house—as she walked through her kitchen in her shorts and a tank top, her blonde hair in a high ponytail. Her kitchen and living room windows allowed him an unhindered view into her home where he could watch Kim as she cooked, exercised, or even lounged on her couch in front of the TV.
James told himself that he was merely doing a bit of reconnaissance—finding out a little more about her so that he might concoct a reason to talk to her. In his mind, he ran through various scenarios in which he would walk over to her house and "accidentally" run into her, perhaps spark up a seemingly "random" conversation about the show he'd watched her binge on Netflix. It was an absurd thought, of course. He had never been able to say so much as a sentence to her when they were co-workers. He doubted things would go differently now.
As he stood watching her, yet again—pondering his cowardice—James' focus was suddenly brought back to Kim. She was texting on the phone by the kitchen window, oblivious to the fact that she had an audience because she lifted her top to reveal her tits and snapped a selfie.
James was stunned as he took in a full view of her breasts. Perky and round, they stood out proudly from her chest, bouncing hypnotically as she adjusted for another picture. At the distance it was hard to tell but James had earlier placed them at a very full C-cup. His pants instinctively tightened at the sight. His heart raced with excitement, sudden butterflies churning through his stomach sending a jolt of electric tingles up his spine. Without thinking, James pulled out his phone, using the zoom on his camera to get a better view. He watched in amazement as Kim pushed her tits together in a sexy pose for her intended recipient, completely unaware she was being watched. James was rubbing his pants reflexively as he tried to hold the phone steady.
He leaned forward to adjust his angle, but in doing so, elbowed a glass off the end table beside him. He jumped in shock as the glass shattered next to him. Distracted by the mess on the floor, he forgot about the phone he was holding until, in slow-motion, he watched as his phone slipped from his grasp. He lunged forward, trying to catch it, only to bumble it a series of times as it fell out the window, leaving him fully exposed as he hung over the sill. Instinctively, he looked up to find Kim staring directly at him. Her expression went from one of shock to worry to dawning realization, and then to anger.
James ducked back inside, forgetting about the glass underfoot until acute pain cut through his sock. He yelped as he fell hard on the bed. He pulled the sock free to inspect the deep cut sluicing blood. His voyeurism forgotten, he cursed loudly as he limped from the bedroom, grabbing a hand towel and small first-aid kit from the en suite bathroom to stanch the blood. He cleaned out the cut as best he could, but it hurt something awful.
Before he could go any further, there was a loud banging at the front door. He cursed again, frustrated at the interruption. Hobbling to the door, he opened it, standing on one foot with the towel still clutched to his other foot.
His heart stopped as he saw the object of his obsession standing in front of him with her arms crossed and her face knit with a deep scowl. In all the scenarios he had come up with when he imagined meeting Kim face-to-face. Him bleeding and unable to flee had not made that list.
"Where is your phone?" She stood with her hand outstretched. Her voice was firm, more a demand than a question. James stood paralyzed.
"I-I don't have it," he managed to stammer. "I mean...it's in the backyard. Listen...this is not what it looks like." He tried desperately to sound convincing, knowing full well it was exactly what it looked like. Ignoring his words, Kim pushed past him, not waiting for an invitation. She marched through the house headed for the backyard.
James managed to hop behind her a short distance before he stumbled and fell clutching his foot, grimacing in pain. The towel was soaked with blood, and before he could right himself, Kim came back inside the house holding his phone. She was livid.
It was as she was standing directly over him that she noticed the large amount of blood coming from his foot.
"What, the fuck happened to you?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I stepped on broken glass...when that ...all happened." He gestured vaguely towards the direction of the bedroom window.
