My Hot Ass Neigbor Link

Since then, it’s become a weird routine. I find excuses to be on the fire escape or near my window around sunset. It sounds creepy, I know, but I can’t help it. I watch him come home from work, usually with grease smudged on his forearms or sawdust in his hair, looking exhausted but somehow still effortlessly attractive. Sometimes he sits out there and reads a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, and I find myself wondering what he’s reading, wondering what he thinks about when he’s not looking like an Adonis carved out of marble. It’s not just the physical stuff anymore; it’s the way he gently handles the stray cat that wanders the rooftops, feeding it bits of his dinner, or the way he hums along to the radio when he’s fixing things in his apartment. He’s hot, yeah, dangerously so, but he seems… kind. And that’s a dangerous combination for a neighbor who is already struggling to keep her cool in this heat.

Our first actual interaction was mortifying, as these things always are. I was out on the fire escape trying to catch a break from the stagnant air inside, wearing my rattiest oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that have seen better decades, my hair twisted up in a messy clip that looked like a bird's nest. I was eating a popsicle, desperately trying to cool down, when he climbed out onto his own fire escape. He didn't see me at first; he just leaned back against the railing, shirtless, drinking a bottle of water, looking like an ad for some expensive cologne that smells like cedar and testosterone. Of course, I choked on the popsicle. I actually choked, letting out a noise that sounded like a dying seal, which caused him to look up. my hot ass neigbor