Once again, I wake up gasping for air, my breath shallow and sweat dripping down my face. The dream—no, the nightmare—of Keenan doing unspeakable things to me haunted my sleep.
It is a new and confusing territory for me. I'd only ever kissed a man once, and that was on a dare. So these thoughts, these dreams—they are uncharted waters.
I sigh, sitting up in bed, my gaze falling to my knee now covered with an actual band-aid. Keenan had left his shirt with me yesterday, and I'd washed it, knowing I needed to return it. The faint scent of him still lingers in the fabric, teasing my senses.
A cool breeze drifts through the open window, sending a shiver down my spine. I'd left it open last night, hoping the crisp night air would calm my restless mind. It didn't work—I am doomed.
Biting my lip, I glance toward the window, wondering what he might be up to this morning. It had become a habit of mine to peek outside each day to see if he was working on his motorcycle. But today was different.
Instead of being outside, Keenan is in his room. His window wide open, offering me an unfiltered view of him walking around inside.
I feel like a peeping tom, but I cant look away. His room is so much different from mine- neutral, warm tones painted the walls, his bed looked inviting, cozy even. My room, on the other hand, is a chaotic mess of bright, cold colors.
He comes into view holding a drink in one hand and a book in the other, looking effortlessly sexy. My eyes linger on him as he sits at his desk near the window...And then it happened.
His head tilts up slightly, his hooded eyes locking onto mine with precision. My heart stops mid-beat as his lips curl into a faint smirk.
I gasp audibly, yanking the curtains shut and pressing myself against the wall like a criminal caught in the act. My hand flies to my mouth as I try to process what has just happened. He saw me watching him- and worse- a glint of amusement spread across his face.
How could I possibly face him now? How could I return his shirt after that? Maybe he didn't see me... Maybe I imagined it? I try to convince myself but there is no denying it- he saw me spying on him.
After a few moments of panicked breathing, I dare to peek through the edge of the curtain again. The coast is clear.
Later that morning, after getting dressed and grabbing his freshly washed shirt, I head downstairs to make coffee. My plan is simple: thank him for helping me yesterday and return his shirt—preferably without dying of embarrassment in the process. To soften the awkwardness, I make an extra cup of coffee for him.
Standing in my kitchen with both items in hand, I hesitate. Could I do this? Could I face him after what happened? My nerves scream at me to stay put, but somehow my legs carry me out the door anyway.
The short walk to his house feels like an eternity. By the time I reach his door, my chest is rising and falling rapidly with nervous breaths. With trembling hands, I knock softly. I hear faint rustling inside before the door swings open—and there he was.
Shirtless.
Keenan leans casually against the doorframe, his jeans hanging low on his hips in a way that makes it hard to look anywhere else. His tousled hair and hooded eyes give him an edge of rugged allure that sends shivers down my spine.
"Morning, Petal," he greets in that deep gravelly tone that makes my knees weak.
"M-morning," I stammer, quickly averting my eyes from his bare chest. He looks like he hasnt slept much—or maybe that was just how he always looked: effortlessly disheveled yet devastatingly attractive.
"Done observing from afar, are you?" His lips twitch into a teasing smirk as he speaks.
My cheeks burn with humiliation as I fumble for words. "I... I wasn't... I mean..." My hand gestures wildly between my window and him as if that would somehow explain everything.
Realizing how ridiculous I must look; I take a deep breath and thrust both items toward him—the mug of coffee and his shirt. "I wanted to say thanks... for helping me yesterday," I manage to say without completely falling apart. "And here's your shirt."
Keenan raises an eyebrow but takes both items from me with ease, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that sends an involuntary shiver through me. "You didn't have to," he says softly before taking a sip from the mug. His eyes stay locked on mine as he adds with a smirk, "Sweet."
I swallow hard as he continues speaking casually—as if this whole situation isn't mortifying for me: "So... is window-watching a regular thing? Not that I'm complaining."
"No!" The word shoots out of me like an arrow before I can stop it. "I mean... no! It's not like that!" My voice cracks under pressure as I stare at the ground to avoid meeting his gaze.
A low chuckle rumbles from him—a sound both teasing and oddly comforting. "Relax, Daisy," he says with an amused smile tugging at his lips. "I'm just teasing."His words ease some of my tension—but only slightly—as he leans closer to me. The faint scent of tobacco and whiskey mixed with coffee filled the air between us.
"But," he continues with a tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eyes, "the coffee is nice... Maybe we can make this a regular thing?"
A regular thing? With him? The thought sends waves of panic and excitement through me all at once."Uh..." is all I manage to say as I nervously fiddle with my hands.
"Or," Keenan adds with a shrug as he leans back against the doorframe again, crossing his arms over his chiseled chest, "you could just keep peeking through your window—whatever floats your boat."
My cheeks burn hotter than ever as his teasing words hang in the air between us. Is this all just a joke to him? Or did he mean it?
After what feels like an eternity of silence, I finally whisper shyly: "Okay... coffee it is."
Keenan's smirk grows into something softer—something almost genuine—as he nods approvingly. "Good," he says before taking another sip from the mug. "I'll be looking forward to your deliciously sweet coffee."
I bite my lip at his compliment, unsure how to respond. "Oh, It's nothing special," I mumble awkwardly while shuffling my feet under his gaze.
He scoffs lightly before shaking his head with amusement. "Nothing about you is normal... Petal. "His tone grows quieter on those last words—his expression unreadable—as if there is more meaning behind them than he let on.
I can't help myself, I had to ask.
"Uh, what do you mean?" I furrow my brows. I knew I wasn't normal but the way he said it, it didn't seem like a bad thing.
"I heard you last night, Daisy," his voice lowers to a rumble as his eyes darken slightly, and he continues, "You sounded very...passionate with whatever you were doing. Kept me up all night."
My blood runs cold, my face going crimson. I didn't meant for him to hear me, let alone comment on it. I stammer, trying to formulate a denial but the words wont come out. However, my silence says enough.
"Although," Keenan adds, a devilish grin on his lips, "I enjoyed the lovely sounds. Just make sure you keep that window closed next time. Wouldn't want anyone else hearing you."
He hands the empty mug back to me and turns to go inside, as if he didn't just throw a bomb for me to catch, and leaves me standing on his porch, dripping wet, soaked in my own nervous sweat.