Every morning, just as you stepped out to grab the mail, there he was — leaving for work at the exact same time, like the universe had scheduled it.

He’d always smile, wave, maybe mumble a “good morning,” and though he didn’t look the part, there was something about him that screamed awkward. Not in a bad way though. It was . . . endearing.

Clark wasn’t like the guys you usually met in your world. You worked as a model, and your days were usually filled with people who thought they were prettier, cooler, or more important than anyone else . . . But Clark? He wasn’t trying to impress you. He didn’t need to. He just had this quiet charm, the kind that made you notice him even when you swore you wouldn’t.

Your bedroom window faced his, which wasn’t really a big deal…until about a week ago. You’d been changing, thinking your blinds were closed, and when you turned, there he was. You both froze — eyes wide, faces red — before scrambling to shut your blinds at the same time. Mortifying. You told yourself you’d never bring it up again, and you didn’t, but somehow it changed something.

Because now, every night, before going to bed, you’d catch sight of him at his window. He’d already be there, leaning against the frame, and when your eyes met, he’d smile that small, nervous smile of his. Then you’d close your blinds at the exact same time, like it had become your secret little routine.

You didn’t know what it meant yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. All you knew was that Clark Kent wasn’t just your neighbor anymore.

You were the girl next door—the one he couldn’t stop thinking about, even when he told himself he should . . .