chapter 1

"I think my neighbor is a serial killer," I whispered, peeking out from behind the drapes to the house next door.

"Toby, are you writing dark romances again?" Josh sighed.

"And," I added, ignoring his long-suffering tone, "I think his eyes glowed red the other night."

"So it's paranormal dark romances, then," he grumbled.

"I'm serious, Josh!" I defended, walking away from the window and heading into the kitchen to ruffle around in the pantry. There had to be… ah, there they were. Potato chips. Who needed a full meal when there were potato chips?

"You know, when I was in the yard the other day talking to my PA, I asked how long it took someone to bleed out from being stabbed in the stomach, and my neighbor was walking by, and he said, ‘It depends on the depth of the wound and the size of the blade, so anywhere from a few short minutes to days.' And then he just kept on walking, like it was a totally normal conversation. Josh, who knows that sort of information and treats that as an everyday topic of conversation?" I asked, crunching on some chips.

"Are you eating potato chips? Toby, that isn't dinner," Josh groused. "And do you remember when we had an hour long conversation on ways to be electrocuted?"

"Yeah, so?" I asked, ruffling through the bag for the chips that were curled. They totally tasted better when they were curled in half

"So you, Toby. Someone like you knows that kind of information. He's probably a writer. Or maybe a doctor," Josh reassured me.

"Or a serial killer," I added, giving an "Aha!" as I found another curly chip.

Josh sighed again. "He's cute, isn't he?"

"Omg yes, he's totally hot. All big and strong and scary looking. He's tall, and I think he's got a couple tattoos, although sadly I haven't seen him with his shirt off. I can't wait for lawn mowing season," I admitted, still crunching away on my chips. "Not that I'll be mowing my lawn. Ohhh, do you think maybe I could get him to mow my lawn? That would be so hot."

"You want a serial killer mowing your lawn?" Josh asked.

"Hah!" I shouted into the phone. "You admit he's a serial killer!"

Josh sighed again. He had no appreciation for my mental prowess.

"Why don't they make bags of potato chips that are just curls. I bet people would buy them by the droves. The curly chips always taste better," I commented, shaking the bag around to look for more curly chips.

"They're called ruffles, Toby. Focus, please—we're talking about your non-serial killer neighbor," Josh reminded me.

"Nope. Ruffle chips are… well, they're ruffled. Those aren't curls. These are like fully curled in half but they're straight chips," I said, crunching loudly.

Josh sighed again before asking, "Why do you think he's a serial killer? Aside from the tattoos, the hotness factor, and your current writing project?" Josh asked.

"I don't think he works. He's always coming and going at odd hours, and he wears a lot of black, because you know that hides the blood stains better…" I began.

"Or it's just his aesthetic," Josh cut in.

"And you know the house next door has a basement," I went on, totally ignoring him. "He blacked out the basement windows, but I see lights on down there at odd hours of the night. Plus, when I was up at like 2 am the other night, he was carrying a rolled up carpet or something into the house over his shoulder," I finished triumphantly.

"First of all, if his windows are blacked out, how can you tell the lights are on?" Josh asked.

"Duh, because a little light escapes," I said around a mouthful of chips.

"At this rate you won't have room for dinner," Josh warned me, but I ignored him, still crunching away. "And I'll give you that redecorating at 2 am is weird, but peeping on your neighbor at 2 am is also weird. One might even say stalkerish," Josh added.

"I am not a stalker!" I defended. "Being curious about one's neighbor is normal behavior!"

Josh laughed at that. "Toby, you know I love you, but you are definitely not normal."

I grunted around the chips in my mouth, rolling up the bag and going in search of a clip. I probably wouldn't have room for dinner, but I hated cooking for one anyway, so I wasn't too worried about it.

"My point is that sometimes people do odd things. That doesn't mean they're serial killers. Or stalkers. I'm sure your neighbor is very nice, and if you had an actual conversation with him I'm sure you'd see that. And no, him commenting on stomach wounds does not qualify as a conversation," Josh said.

He was always so reasonable. Sometimes it was annoying.

"I ought to call Seb. He'll totally agree with me," I grumped.

"Yeah, maybe don't call him about your serial killer neighbor," Josh warned.

I immediately stopped what I was doing and leaned against the counter, focusing on the conversation. "Uh oh. What happened now?" I asked.

"Apparently he was out on a date and the guy at the next table had a heart attack and died," Josh sighed.

"Aww, man. He hasn't been on a date in ages. I'm guessing it didn't go well after that?" I asked. Poor Seb. He did not have good luck.

"Nope. He performed CPR until the paramedics got there, even though he said the guy was gone. And you know Seb—nothing phases him. I think there could be a zombie apocalypse and he'd be asking if we felt like going out for ice cream in that cheery tone of his," Josh said.

I snorted. It was true. Seb was probably the happiest person I knew, despite the fact that people were always dying around him. And yes, he worked in a hospital, so it was kind of expected that he'd see some death, but people seemed to die around him outside of work all the time too. It was amazing the guy didn't get a complex.

"So he went back to his table and started eating dinner again," Josh went on, "and his date was all shocked and asked him how he could eat after that. I think the guy said something about him being heartless, which is crazy. Seb is the sweetest guy I know. Anyway, I told Seb obviously a guy who was that blind didn't deserve him, but Seb was pretty bummed."

"Yeah." It was my turn to sigh. "I wish we could find someone for him. I know he's lonely."

It was a shame that Seb and I wouldn't work out, but we just weren't each other's type. We were far too similar, and the only chemistry between us was the course we'd taken together in college. Where someone had died, by the way. Lab accident, although their death hadn't been immediate. I'd looked it up later, and I hadn't told Seb. I didn't want my friend to actually get a complex.

"Maybe your serial killer neighbor?" Josh joked. "I mean, people dropping dead around Seb wouldn't scare him off if he really is a serial killer."

"Nope. I get first dibs on serial killer hottie," I announced.

Josh laughed, and we said our goodbyes. Josh was supposed to go meet his boyfriend, who I didn't much like, for dinner. The guy just gave me creep vibes, but I knew Josh wouldn't listen. I might have an overactive imagination, but that didn't mean I was totally wrong about people.

With that I walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room to look out the side window at my serial killer's house. There was no fence until the backyards, and I had a pretty clear view of next door. His car was there, so I knew he was home. I pushed the curtain aside, and then I nearly screamed when I saw my neighbor staring out his window at my house.

"Shit!" I yelped, dropping onto the floor and out of sight.

And oh my god, if that wasn't the stupidest reaction ever. I peeked up over the window, and yup, he was still there, staring at my window with a slight smirk on his face. I sat up a bit more and gave a wave, pointing down and trying to make some vague motion that I had fallen.

Not sure he bought it. He just looked amused, and I gave a random shrug and waved again before sliding over to the side of the window and bumping my head against the wall a few times.

"Nice job, Toby. Now the hot serial killer neighbor will totally think you're a stalker," I mumbled to myself.