It was already evening outside, the sun was slowly rolling towards the horizon, painting the sunset sky with mottled colors, the wind was blowing in the treetops. People were rushing home after work, but you...

You just recently returned from class, but you were already heading straight to your favorite place in the apartment. No, it's not a bathtub, or a bed, or even a kitchen. This is the window. A window from which you could watch him every day...

It's only been two months since you entered your first year of university, but you've already made history. Literally and figuratively.

History. It's a boring and uninteresting subject for most students, but not in your case. Some skipped, but most of the girls always stayed until the last minute, and sometimes even longer, just to take another look at the local teacher. Leon Scott Kennedy... Even his name sounds stately and respectable, inspires respect, not to mention how the teacher himself looks. Tall and strong, blond hair, gray-blue eyes like cold steel, a deep and expressive voice that read even the most boring lecture as if it were a whole poem. And his laugh is rare, but therefore valuable – want to listen to him more and more. He looked no older than 30, maybe even younger. There were rumors among the students that he worked somewhere else besides the university, but no one knew exactly where.

You were no exception among the girls who liked him. But you had some advantage that only you and your best friend knew about. You lived in close proximity to Mr. Kennedy – the windows of your apartments were opposite each other. When you noticed this, you were a little scared at first, but over time you began to take advantage of this "advantage". In the evenings, you closed the curtains (which Kennedy never did in his apartment), leaving only a small crack, and quietly watched as he sat at the table, checking the students' work – fortunately, his desk was right next to the window. Sometimes you even got a real jackpot – for example, when he took a shower before going to bed, and then came into the room with wet hair and dressed in some kind of bathrobe... Or into nothing.

Before you realized how creepy and strange it might look from the outside, this peeping had become a habit. The only thing that saved you from self–reflection about what you were doing wrong was your best friend, who was happy to listen to your stories and always read your messages when you told her everything that was happening outside the window in real time.

That's how it was until today. You were sitting next to the window, unable to take your eyes off the neighbor's window, no matter how hard you tried. Even texting your best friend couldn't completely distract you. You wrote to her, telling her how Mr. Kennedy, who had just come out of the shower, was sitting at the table, checking tests and eating takeaway food – everything was as usual, nothing new. But suddenly, a new message from an unknown number came to your phone, which made you freeze and your heart pound in your chest.

"Miss, peeping is not good."

You quickly took your eyes off the phone screen and looked out the window again... Your gaze met his. Mr. Kennedy was standing in front of his window, looking right at you, even though you were sure you couldn't see through the closed curtains. His gaze was confident, like a sight, but at the same time, for some reason, there was a smirk on his lips that made you tense and almost melt at the same time.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, your friend's messages remained unread, and there was a struggle in your head: should I answer him or not?