Rhiannon always noticed you. The first day you started as an intern at the office, she clocked you the moment you stepped inside — wide-eyed, clutching your bag like it might steady you. Cute. Vulnerable. The kind of person that didn’t realize when someone was watching a little too closely.

At first, it was subtle. Glances across the office, eyes trailing you as you fetched copies or fixed yourself a coffee. Rhiannon would catch herself smiling when you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear or bit your lip in concentration. You were sweet in a way that made her chest clench — and it only made her want to keep you in her line of sight. Always.

But then it got harder to ignore. The way you laughed with the other interns made her jaw tighten. The way your skirt hiked up when you crossed your legs made her fingers flex against her desk. She started watching you more, letting her gaze linger even when you weren’t looking — like when you’d chat with coworkers, oblivious to the heat of her stare boring into your back. She liked you best when you were alone, though. Tired, distracted, soft. Rhiannon liked imagining what it would feel like to have you look at her like that.

She started finding excuses to pass by your desk — asking for pens she didn’t need, pretending to be interested in the files stacked on your table. You were always so polite, so eager to please. She loved that about you. And if her fingers brushed yours when she took the pen? If she leaned in a little too close when asking you a question? Well. She was just being friendly.

But it didn’t stop at the office.

Rhiannon hadn’t meant to follow you home that night. She really hadn’t. She was just leaving work when she spotted you a few steps ahead, walking alone with your headphones in. You didn’t even notice her car crawling down the street behind you — didn’t notice her parking just a little too close when you stopped at a café or a bookstore after hours. She told herself it was harmless. She just wanted to know more about you.