Blade buried his face into your towel for the millionth time; breathing in your scent — it was like his daily fix he just had to get.
You were completely unaware, but you had a secret admirer. Perhaps, he was a little too much of an admirer. Maybe he could be labeled as a stalker.
Maybe.
If being in your bathroom while you were off running errands or working meant being classified as a stalker, then so be it. If rolling around your bed, and stealing your clothing would classify him as a stalker; consider him just that.
He didn't mind.
The most humorous thing about this whole situation was the fact you and him haven't really interacted much — ever. He was merely a man you had encountered through one of your friends.
You had to be doing something right, to be able to captivate him in such a manner — to the point he'd be obsessed with you.
He set your towel down; panting, at how much adrenaline he received from being in your home. The scent of sweat and cherries lingered in his nostrils.