I watched him for hours. It wasn’t difficult to sit there, watching the expressions he made as he wrote. The endearing way his nose would scrunch up, or he’d hit a sad part and tears would brim in his eyes before he sniffed them away, it was all completely adorable.

I think he forgot I was there at some point. Probably about the point at which his head started to nod, his eyes half closing against the glare of his computer.

“Ouch!” He shook his head hard after his head drooped forward so far it whacked the top of his laptop. ”Stay awake, Joe.”

I got up silently. The layouts of the apartments were basically the same, so it was easy for me to find his kitchen. I was immediately jealous seeing the Keurig brewer on his shimmering counters, but I pushed the envy away and glanced through the cups he had to put in it. I saw Kahlua on one of them, and though I doubted there was actually any alcohol in there, it peaked my interest. It took me a moment of struggling with- and swearing at- the black and silver monster, but I popped the cup in place and found the button to start it. I barely had the cup in place before the trickle of coffee started. Those monsters were much faster than my little plastic coffee pot.

I leaned against the counter, staring at my reflection in Joe’s stainless steel fridge. I hated seeing myself in that bullshit school uniform; the sizing, a bit too tight across my chest, didn’t bother me as much as how formal I looked. I’d rather wear nothing than my uniform. But I had a funny feeling Joe, that skittish little kitten, would have shut the door in a more uncomfortable place than my face if I tried to walk into his apartment naked.

The coffee maker didn’t beep like mine did, but I could tell knew it was done when the sound of coffee dripping into the cup cut off. I pushed away from the counter, grabbing the cup on my way back to Joe’s writing room.

I was still really impressed by that room. Partially because he was brave enough to renovate when we weren’t supposed to alter our apartments. But it was mostly the creativity that went into a room that was obviously personally designed. It made me respect him as well as adore him for his shyness. He was the most ridiculous stereotype I had ever seen- and those pretty blue eyes of his didn’t hurt.

I pushed the door open with my hip, the coffee mug held carefully in both hands so I wouldn’t spill a single precious drop of coffee. The door hit the wall a little hard; Joe jumped, almost dumping his computer off his lap, managing to save it only by bobbling it into his face.

“What the- I thought I told you to be quiet!” he snapped, rubbing his nose, which had a fresh dent.

I sighed at him, using the sound to keep from laughing again, because it had seemed to irritate him earlier. “You were falling asleep, so I made you coffee.”

His face changed. All I had seen from him were hard planes, anger or fear or wild panic. He had softened, even if it was only slightly, and I swear to god his eyes warmed up. My heart did a sideways skip in my chest, and I knew I had been right that first time I saw him, when he was braving the hallway for that Amazon package; there was more to Joe than he would let people see.

“Stop staring at me, it’s creeping me out,” Joe muttered into his coffee. When he blew on it, the breeze bounced back from the cup and blew his hair out of his face.

God damn it.

I pulled a Joe; I looked away fast, reclaiming my spot on the bean bag chair before I did what I usually did, and strode across the room to claim his mouth as mine. I mean, it worked wonders on the girls at school. But those were high school girls, and this was a man who not only was amazingly attractive, but was probably also covered in scars under his skin.

I was completely shocked when Joe uncurled from his ball in his reading nook. He literally crawled across the floor. Fuck, he was too cute to be real. He ended up sitting next to my legs, not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. I knew by the way he held himself stiff that it was more a concession in return for me being nice to him than anything he actually wanted to do.

We sat there for a few minutes, in silence. Joe slowly started to unwind, the tension fading from his shoulders, until he felt comfortable enough to tug his laptop over and start writing again. I watched over his shoulder, and my eyes got wider and wider as I watched him write. I recognized the writing style, the beautiful description, that character that had made me laugh and cry. In that instant, I went from calm and composed idol of the high school to a screaming fangirl faced with David Tennant or Jensen Ackles.

“For shit’s sake, you can’t tell me you’re Harriet Koffman!” I gaped at Joe, astounded.

He was so fucking adorable when his face turned red. “I.. uh… um-”

Damn. Damn, damn, and double damn. Don’t look up at me like that, with those blue eyes wide. He didn’t look his age at all, still looked like he was just in his twenties, and my hormones were going crazy. I was going to go insane keeping my hands off him.

“They, uh, the publishers thought my first novels would sell better from a girl’s name. The ones that were, um, sort of… smut, I guess.”

I had never seen a person come close to looking like a cherry, but Joe managed it.

“What smut novels?” I quirked an eyebrow. I’d been reading Harriet Koffman’s books since middle school, and they were all fantasy novels with slight romantic undertones. Smut was the farthest thing from them.

“I, ah, used to have a different pen name. They wanted to keep my persona young and pretty. So, um, it was Keira O’Connor for five years, and then Harriet Koffman for the four years after that.”

I did the math in my head. That meant he’d been Harriet since he was twenty-two. And he was Keira since he was… “You published your first book at seventeen?”

Joe leaned away from me, making me realize I had leaned too close to him for his comfort. “It was kind of, um, an escape. My, ah, ex… turned one of my manuscripts in to a publisher. That’s when I got pulled into the publishing company.” There was a sadness in his eyes that said there was more to the story, but I brushed it aside.

“Shit. You’re a fucking genius.”

He laughed, unsteady and uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m just a lucky writer.”

Fuck my life. Attractive, shy, and modest. I couldn’t handle that shit anymore. I was going to lose it and I didn’t want to know how he would react.

So I quickly distracted myself. “What are you writing now?”

His face lit up, and it was the first time I had seen him look happy. Truly, honestly happy, his eyes bright and a real smile curving up his mouth. It was a pleasure listening to him talk about the new series he had started, urged on by Elizabeth and the publishing company. The more he talked, the more excited I was for the October release date; I was the excited fangirl again, hanging on every word.

But as he talked, his excitement began to give way to his earlier drowsiness. It wasn’t very long before his fingers slowed in their typing, and his head began to nod again. He started to droop to the side as his eyelids dropped lower and lower. I knew what was coming, and I was on the floor before he fell sideways.

I wasn’t the most comfortable pillow, but I was better than the floor.

Then again, the floor wouldn’t be thinking about how adorable he was.

How could he look even cuter when he was sleeping? All those harsh lines of the constant fear wiped away, his face smooth but for a small smile as he dreamed of his novel. Maybe I missed those blue eyes a little, but god damn me for thinking that slight snore was adorable as hell.

I wanted to touch him. His hair looked down soft, even though its long, choppy length said he cut it on his own with whatever pair of scissors was most handy when it got in his way. I barely stopped my hand; it hovered over Joe’s forehead, at most an inch away. Holding my breath, afraid to wake him, I slowly lowered my hand.

His head turned into my hand as I stroked the hair away from his face. I swear the sound he made was happy. And I couldn’t believe he had ever flinched away from my touch as I stroked his hair and he slept peacefully under my touch.