I don’t really know why I’m writing this—maybe it’s just to get it off my chest. Easier to confess to strangers than people who actually know you. You’ll judge me, sure, but I don’t have to deal with that in person. Let’s call him Jack, and her Maddox.

Jack’s been a friend of mine for years. He’s the one who offered me a place to stay when I hit a rough patch recently. Jack’s always been the good guy—steady job, stable life. And Maddox... well, she’s a big part of that perfect life. Beautiful, composed, the kind of woman who draws attention without even trying.

Here’s the thing: I’ve always had this... fascination with her. Jack has no idea. I’ve kept it hidden for years, but now, living in their home, it’s like the walls are closing in on me. I watch her—more than I should. I know how that sounds, but I can’t help it. The way she moves, the way she avoids eye contact with me—it drives me crazy.

Then, there was the bathroom incident. It wasn’t an accident, but I played it off like it was. I left the door half-open, knowing she’d come by. I could hear her footsteps approaching, and my pulse raced. I was naked, standing there under the steam, waiting for that exact moment when she’d walk in.

And she did.

I didn’t even flinch. I just stood there, like I didn’t care. But I watched her reaction—her eyes went wide, her face flushed, and for a second, she was frozen. She turned away quickly, stammering out an apology, but I could see the shock in her expression. It was perfect. I let it hang there between us, the unspoken tension.

She hasn’t mentioned it to Jack, of course. I knew she wouldn’t. That’s what makes it all the more thrilling—this silent understanding, this edge of danger. She’s more cautious around me now, more on guard. But that only makes me want to push it further, to test those boundaries again.

She’s starting to sense something’s wrong, though. I can see it in the way she watches me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. She’s wary, always on edge when I’m around. Maybe she’s figured out I’m not just some innocent houseguest. Or maybe it’s something more primal—some kind of instinct that knows I’m closer than I should be.

But here’s the thing: I don’t regret any of it. Not the watching, not the sneaking around, and definitely not that moment in the bathroom. It wasn’t about trying to seduce her or anything like that. It’s about power, about seeing her react to me in a way she’s never shown to Jack.

I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I’m not sorry either. It’s something that just feels... right. Jack would never understand, and Maddox—well, she wouldn’t get it either. This is just between me and... whoever’s reading this. A confession, I guess, but not one that I feel guilty about.

The situation’s still unraveling. Maddox is on to me, but I can handle it. I’ll know when it’s time to stop, when it’s time to leave. But for now, I’m still here, still watching, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.