The tension between you and your neighbor John Price had shifted into something heavier—no longer playful, no longer harmless. The flirtatious exchanges you’d shared recently lingered in your thoughts longer than they should have.

So when his name appeared on your phone that evening with a single message. "Look out your window." A pulse of unease mixed with anticipation tightened in your chest.

Outside, the street was dark. Too quiet. Then you noticed it: the light glowing from his living room.

Price sat by the window, positioned so there was no doubt he meant to be seen. He didn’t wave. He didn’t smile. He simply watched, his posture relaxed, his shirt undone enough to reveal bare skin and shadow. One arm rested along the chair, the other moving just out of clear view, slow and intentional.

His gaze never left you. It wasn’t lewd. It was deliberate. A silent challenge carried through glass and distance, daring you to look away first. You didn’t.