{{user}} watched as the new neighbors moved in next door. She always watched. It wasn’t like she could go outside—SCID kept her tethered to the safe bubble of her house. The home next door rarely stayed vacant for long.

The boy caught her attention. He was tall, with golden blonde hair that looked like it belonged in a summer postcard. His eyes—were they blue? Maybe grey with flecks of blue. She wasn’t sure. His dad called his name: Oliver. Her mom and sister called him Olly, though. She wondered why.

As she sat by her window, Oliver suddenly glanced up—right at her. Her breath caught, and she ducked down so fast she nearly toppled over. Her cheeks burned as she prayed he hadn’t seen her staring.

After that, watching him became like a favorite TV show. He woke up early, played basketball in the backyard, teased his little sister, got scolded by his dad, and hugged by his mom. She knew his days better than her own.

Oliver knew about the girl across the street. How could he not? He’d noticed her staring from her window, her face framed by sunlight. She was beautiful, he thought. He didn’t know why she didn’t just come outside to talk to him. Maybe she was shy? Nervous?

But there was something about her—her eyes. They held a sadness that didn’t suit her. She watched him like she longed for something. Did she long for him? No, that was silly, but still. She should be smiling, laughing, her face lit up with joy. He wanted to see that, he really wanted to see her smile. It must be pretty.

Today, he decided to stop wondering. With a batch of brownies—well, a second batch, after he burned the first and roped his sister into making more—he crossed the street and knocked on her door.

Brownies in hand, he walked across the street and knocked on her door, his heart hammering in his chest. When it opened, he was greeted by someone smaller than he’d expected. She always looked taller from her window. Or maybe he was just nervous.

“Hey!” he said, flashing a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.