1. Nolan

NOLAN

Ihave a perfect view of her through my tactical binoculars. She's sitting at her little kitchen table, her back facing the window and the screen of her laptop aglow in front of her. If the laptop was angled any differently, I'd have a tough time making out the screen, but she has unknowingly positioned herself just right. I can see everything she's doing, and I'm documenting all the details into the voice recorder sitting in the passenger seat beside me.

"She's planning a hiking trip," I say to the recorder. "Tour du Mont Blanc. Two weeks from now."

I watch for several more minutes, silent as I concentrate.

"She'll be on Flight 724, departing at 9am. Seat 17A."

After she finishes booking her flight, she closes her laptop and gets up from the chair. Her generous curves fill the view of my binoculars as she stands up. My cock throbs at the sight, but I ignore it, as I always do.

Leila disappears from my view. I lower the binoculars and check my wristwatch. It's a quarter to four. She'll be heading to the soup kitchen soon, where she volunteers on Tuesdays and Thursdays. While I have a little downtime, I grab my phone and search for tickets for the flight she just booked.

There are a handful of spots left. One of the open seats is right next to the one she booked. Goddamn it, I wish I could take that one. My thumb hovers over the little empty square, a pang of longing aching in my chest.

Instead, I tap one of the empty squares several rows behind her, snapping up the seat that will give me the best view of her.

As my purchase is being processed, the reality of what just occurred fully sinks in. A trip abroad together. I know there's no actual significance to it, but it feels notable, us going out of the country together.

Guess it was bound to happen eventually. Especially given how adventurous Leila is.

I've been watching after her for five years now, ever since her old man—my best friend and fellow ex-Navy SEAL—passed away. It was David's dying wish that I look after his daughter, a request that I agreed to without a moment's hesitation, even though I barely knew anything about Leila at the time. What I did know was that my dear friend was about to part from this world, and I was willing to do anything he asked of me.

"But you have to keep your distance, Nolan," David said, a warning look flaring in his tired eyes. "If she catches on, she'll just rebel against it. Better for everyone if she doesn't know."

That part of David's request surprised me, but I wasn't about to argue. He knew his daughter. He understood what was best. And so, without question, I agreed.

Two days later, he was gone.

At the funeral, I hung back, careful to not draw any attention to myself. With the number of mourners in attendance, that was easy to do. It was also easy to identify Leila among David's surviving family members. She was shockingly beautiful. Long reddish-brown hair. Sad but gorgeous eyes. A curvy figure that, even in my grief, I couldn't ignore.

From that day forward, I watched over her. Within a few weeks, I'd familiarized myself with all of her routines and habits—the ones I could observe from a safe distance, that is. I knew where she liked to buy her groceries, what she liked to eat, what time she went to bed and woke up. I knew she took out her trash bins at the last minute, and that she had a nightly ritual of watching old game shows. I knew what stores she ordered from, because I witnessed every package being delivered to her door.

Quickly, too, I learned that she wasn't the kind of girl to be satisfied with sitting at home. She was constantly going out. She liked to meet up with her friends at vibrant, noisy bars. She frequented a rock-climbing gym. In the summer, she strapped a kayak to the roof of her car and went out on the water by herself. That was the part that really unnerved me, her going out on adventures alone. It didn't take long for me to start feeling overly protective of her.

It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her, either.

I've tried my damnedest to get rid of the feelings I've developed for her. I've tried putting more distance between us, but that made my job too challenging. I've tried to make her less desirable by focusing on her flaws, but her flaws have only made her more endearing.

The only strategy that's been effective is guilting myself out of my lust. She's your best friend's daughter, I'll remind myself when my thoughts go where they shouldn't. Don't be an asshole. This is a hard line you cannot cross. Reminding myself of that has kept me from indulging myself even in private—not once have I ever jerked off to thoughts of Leila, despite how badly I've wanted to.

But I'm still infatuated with her. I still get a goddamn hard-on every time her curves come into focus in the lenses of my binoculars.

The front door of Leila's house opens, and I snap to attention. While she gets into her car, I turn on the engine of my own. As she pulls out onto the street, a chirp emits from my phone, alerting me that she's on the move—a notification that's only useful when I'm not physically around to observe her movements, which isn't often the case these days. Although with the way Leila drives around in that zippy little car of hers, I'd lose her half the time if it wasn't for the tracking device I installed under her rear bumper.

And off she goes. I pull onto the street and follow her, careful to stay a safe distance back.

The last thing I need is for her to notice me.