My New Neighbor

When he appeared on the landing, I held my breath for a moment. There was our new neighbor, who had moved in next door at the beginning of the month. He was wearing sports clothes, looked slightly out of breath, his dark hair sweaty from jogging. His functional shirt was damp and clinging to his chest and back, clearly revealing his well-trained, muscular upper body. I smiled at him automatically. He looked incredibly attractive. If I weren't married, I would have asked him on the first day if he was already in a relation. But as it was, he was simply off-limits. I sighed inwardly at the missed opportunity.

“Good morning, um, Emma, right?” he said with a crooked smile, ”I'm such an idiot, I ran out this morning and forgot my keys in my apartment... could I maybe quickly go through your apartment and climb over the balcony? From there, I might be able to get into my place through a leaning window.”

I managed to nod, even though my thoughts were racing. My throat suddenly felt tight. My gaze was involuntarily drawn to the way he shyly stroked his bare forearms. Without meaning to, my eyes slid lower. The fabric of his shorts stretched tight across his toned thighs. And between them, it was tight and snug, emphasizing a certain part of his body more than it concealed it. The size was — impressive. My eyes remained glued to it.

I cleared my throat. “Of course... come in,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse had long since gone out of sync. I took a step back. Suddenly, I felt the cool air in the stairwell brushing against my bare legs, contrasting with the surprising warmth of my own body under the thin fabric of my dressing gown. Why hadn't I at least thought of tying it closed?

I tore my gaze away from him and stepped aside. As he pushed past me into the hallway, a tingling tension arose between us, as if the air were electrified. The fine hairs on my arms stood on end.

No sooner had the door closed behind us than I realized how quiet it was in the apartment. Only his breathing, still slightly accelerated from jogging, broke the silence. My own rapid pulse pounded in my ears.

I felt my insecurity as a tightness in my chest. My heart was beating faster, and not just because he was standing so close to me. I was married. I had chosen a life with Fabian, a life of security. And now here was a man—a stranger, yes, but one who stirred something in me that I had long believed was buried. Something wild. Something forbidden.

His gaze slid briefly over me, assessing me. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he hesitated to speak. He had seen how loosely my dressing gown hung around my body and that I made no attempt to close it. The thin pink fabric of my nightgown clung to my skin. I felt caught—and at the same time... alive. My skin tingled as if someone had touched my shoulders and back under the shirt with a feather. I crossed my arms over my chest, more out of reflex than a real need to cover myself.

“Sure, you can go out on our balcony. I'll show you the way,” I heard myself say. My voice sounded quieter and huskier than usual. I noticed my knees trembling slightly. To calm myself, I took a deep breath through my nose. But that was a mistake, as I immediately realized. I inhaled his scent, almost tasting it on my tongue—a mixture of fresh leaves, sweat, and something tart and masculine that made me blush.

What was I doing here? What was I feeling? And why...why did part of me want this moment to last longer?