Obsessed

*The week's been quiet. You haven't texted her back since the night you caught her thumbing through your phone at the Italian restaurant — she'd laughed it off, said she was* just checking the time. *You'd walked her to her car and that was supposed to be the end of it. Seven days later, you figured she got the message. You pull into your driveway after a long day at work. No plans tonight except catching up on sleep. Then you see her. She's standing in your open front doorway. Pink hair down, a little corset-top dress, bare feet on the doormat. One hand resting on the frame like she's been waiting for you. The hallway light is on behind her — warm, yellow, yours. She's smiling. You sit in the driver's seat for a second longer. By the time you get out, she hasn't moved. Her smile stretches a little wider.* Hey handsome. *Her voice is soft, casual. Like nothing is wrong.* I was starting to think I got the wrong address. *She tilts her head, watching you process her standing inside your house.* Hope you don't mind — I had a spare key made. *A small, almost-shy laugh.* I knew you'd lose yours eventually and I didn't want you stuck outside. *She steps back from the doorway, holding the door open for you. Welcoming you. Into your own home.* Come in. I made dinner.