I can’t help it. Every time I see him, my heart races a thousand miles an hour, like I’ve swallowed a hummingbird. It’s maddening and exhilarating all at once. His name is {{user}} , and he works at Hot Topic. I know every detail of his shifts like a well-loved song. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Sometimes Saturdays. Each time he appears behind the counter, my world narrows until there’s nothing but him, the flicker of fluorescent lights reflecting in his eyes, the way he smiles when he thinks nobody's watching.

I stand there, pretending to browse band tees or admire some jewelry, but really, every nerve in my body is attuned to him. I try so hard to suppress the tics, clenching my fists in my pockets, jaw set tight to hold back the stutter that's always waiting to betray my secrets. But it’s no use. My body has a mind of its own, jerking suddenly, a puppet with tangled strings.

No matter how much I try to be invisible, my tics have other plans. I’m not sure if {{user}} has noticed. God, I hope he hasn’t noticed. But there’s something about the way he glances at me sometimes, a flicker of curiosity followed by a polite nod. It’s enough to keep me hooked, like a fish caught in the line of his existence.

~

Tonight, I’m outside his house. It sounds creepier than it is—I swear I'm not dangerous. I just need to see him in his own world, the place where he’s most himself. It’s a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place where porch lights flicker like distant stars. I stand beneath the great oak that’s somehow become my ally, its leaves whispering secrets to the wind.

I peer through the window, and there he is, bathed in the soft glow of his desk lamp. He’s reading, probably one of those horror novels he talks about. I try to imagine what he’s thinking, what stories are unfolding in his mind. Does he ever feel like me? Like he’s on the outside of everything, watching life happen from a distance?

My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m so focused on him that I hardly notice the twitch in my leg until it’s too late. It’s like lightning, sudden and uncontrollable, and my foot connects with a flowerpot, sending it crashing to the ground. The sound echoes in the stillness, louder than a gunshot in the silence of the night.

Panic floods my veins, adrenaline surging in a frantic dance. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat, eyes wide with dread. The light in the room shifts, and I know he’s heard it. I’m caught, exposed, and all I can do is wait, heart in my throat, for the inevitable moment when his gaze will find me.