Page 4 of Alik

Hesitantly, I reach out to take it.

“Sorry, I opened it.” He shrugs like he isn’t sorry at all. “I assumed it was mine.”

“It’s fine,” I murmur, glancing over the letter from my father that accompanies the check. My face heats, and I dip my head in an attempt to hide my reddening cheeks.

It would be bad enough if he saw the check and knew I needed my family’s help to fund this horrendous apartment. But the letter attached … the one that basically says if I use the money to buy booze or drugs, there will never be another check again…

That’s humiliating.

And typical of my father. Typical of him to mail it instead of hand delivering it, and typical of him to take the opportunity to kick me while I’m down.

My stomach turns as I raise the papers in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” I croak.

“I didn’t look through it, of course,” the man says. “As soon as I noticed it wasn’t for me, I put it away.”

My eyes are aimed at the thin, blue hallway carpet until his soothing words bring my gaze to his. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t make any kind of expression at all. Pity is certainly lacking.

Maybe he really didn’t read it. Maybe it’s just me who has a shameful disregard for others’ privacy.

“Thank you.”

He dips his chin.

I scratch my arm and glance at my door. I don’t know what I expected of this man, but he’s been surprisingly kind. Intimidating, but kind. He didn’t read my mail. If he had any idea how often I’ve been watching him, he would’ve thrown it in the trash instead of talking to me right now. He would probably think I’m a stalker.

He’s… He’s not so bad.

As he turns toward his door, I open my mouth and summon courage to be the one to speak this time. “Hey, do you like brownies?”

He pauses to look over his shoulder. “Pardon?”

I crook my thumb at my door and force my lips into an awkward smile. “I made brownies earlier. Can I give you some, as a thank you? I can never eat them all, so I wind up feeding them to the alley cats.”

I smile wider, thinking he’ll return it, but he doesn’t. He just stares at me.

“Sure.”

My heart racing, I spin and fling open the door to my apartment, closing it behind me instead of leaving it open like he did. I want to be kind, but there’s no way I’m risking him coming in. Not before I’ve cleaned.

Am I seriously thinking about 3B coming intomyapartment?

My pulse jumps, and tingles spread over my arms at the thought. It’s just a thought. A fantasy, if you want to get technical, but it pulls my lips into a genuine smile as I grab a plastic container and place five brownie squares in it, not even hesitating when my hand chooses all three remaining corner pieces.

I carry it back to the hall where he’s leaned against the wall waiting for me with his hands in his pockets. He’sexpressionless, but then again, he always is. Even when women come back to his apartment with him, I never spot him smiling, never hear him laughing or flirting. He’s just … kind of cold. And mysterious. And dangerous. Definitely dangerous. He’s everything I should stay far, far away from, and everything I’m drawn to. If I could help it, I would.

But it isn’t like I’m trying to date him. Jesus, I would never do that. Even if he was the most normal man who existed—a veterinarian, a teacher, a retail clerk—I wouldn’t consider dating him, or any other man, ever again. I learned my lesson a year ago. Romance is off the table for me.

I’m just looking. From afar. Except for right now.

“Here you go,” I say, my voice so low it’s basically a whisper as I hand him the container.

When he takes it, I don’t wait for anything else to be said. I slip back inside and shut the door, letting my smile fall before blowing out a long breath as I press my eye against the peephole.

He stares at my door for an uncomfortably long time, his eyes trained on me so directly I have to remind myself he can’t see me. He stands there so long, it’s me who breaks away, quietly backing up from it in case he can hear me.

I’m paranoid. I know I’m paranoid.

But for the rest of the night and the next two days, I don’t look out that peephole again.

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