The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

Jameson

I thought Millie would be honest with me about her feelings yesterday. I thought we were close enough that she wouldn’t lie to me. When she tried to play it off, it felt like a part inside of me died. I’ve known since almost the first day I met her that she’s afraid to commit, to give herself fully to someone, and I thought that I had accepted it. I didn’t realize that I had been holding on to an ounce of hope that she would move past it until she laughed me off. I had been silently hoping that she would love me and trust me to take care of her…to not hurt her.

Finding out that she doesn’t trust me enough to, at the very least, admit her feelings is a blow to my ego. Of course, I haven’t admitted my feelings for her, either. But I would have if she’d given me even the slightest hint that she was open to being more than just friends.

The woman is a walking contradiction, really. I’ve never met anyone so closed off to the idea of falling in love but simultaneously in desperate need of affection. Every time we’ve watched a movie together, she’s sat right up against me, and she’s constantly giving me hugs or little touches on my arms. I’m starting to think that maybe that’s just who she is with friends, and she’s not trying to make our relationship something more. It’s disappointing, but I’m trying to respect her wishes.

But I need to stop pondering this. I’ve thought about all of this nonstop. Nothing is changing by dwelling on it, but I’m certainly getting behind on work. I take a gulp of my room-temperature coffee and turn my attention to my computer screen to try to finish up some paperwork that’s been left incomplete for too long.

I work for a solid five minutes before my phone starts dinging to let me know I’ve received a message. I try to ignore it, but then three more messages come in, back to back. I open my phone and see four messages, all from Millie.

Millie: Hey, so sorry to bother you… My alarm system keeps notifying me that there’s something outside my door.

Millie: But it’s happening in the middle of the night.

Millie: Four nights in a row now. Three times last night.

Millie: It’s freaking me out! What do I do?

I read her messages and have to laugh. I was finally getting her off my mind for once today and focusing on work. Now I’m going to be left thinking about her and wondering what’s going on at her house. Is she safe? Is there someone creeping around outside of her house? I shoot off a quick text to let her know I’ll take a look at her camera’s footage later and see what I find.

Millie and I have been going over her security footage from the last few days, and I haven’t found anything that could be making her system send alerts to her phone. The only movements the camera has picked up so far are Millie and Lo walking outside and a package being delivered. I’m only on the first night, though.

I run my hands through my hair as Millie places a mug of coffee on the counter beside me. “So, have you found anything interesting yet?” she asks. She’s trying to make herself sound casual, like she’s not bothered by this, but I can hear the slight waver in her voice. I take my mug and smile at her to help ease her nerves.

“Not yet,” I answer and take a drink of the strong coffee. Millie knows how to make a good cup of coffee—yet another thing she has going for her. If I wasn’t already crazy about her, this might just tip me over the edge.

As the two of us watch the footage going in triple-time together, an image of a black SUV drives onto the screen and parks in front of Millie’s house and turns off the lights. At first, I think nothing of it and just assume that it’s someone visiting her or Lo. The time stamp on the video says that it’s 11:30 at night. It’s late, but who am I to judge the timing of Millie’s visitors?

Millie sits up straighter in her seat as she observes the vehicle. I slow the video down to normal speed and take note of the license plate number. It’s out of state, so it could be that someone just happened to pull over to do something real quick or look up directions, but I’m not taking any chances. The car sits in front of Millie’s house for twenty minutes total, but no one ever gets out. They’re not what set off the alerts.

I wish the window tint on the car wasn’t so dark so I could get a glimpse of the person inside. They may not have been doing anything, but I still don’t like that they sat in front of her house for twenty minutes in the middle of the night.

I skip over to the next night and, sure enough, around midnight, the same black SUV pulls up in front of her house and stays there for thirty minutes. Like the night before, no one gets out of the car. They just sit there in front of her house, doing who knows what. An uneasy feeling settles deep in my gut.

I don’t know how, but I know deep down this has to be the person who has been stalking me for the last month. It makes sense. They have a good view of my house from this position, but they’re not alerting me to their presence. They’re assuming that I’d think they’re just visiting the neighbor, which I would have if Millie hadn’t told me otherwise. They do the same thing the next two nights, arriving between 11:30 and midnight each time.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Millie asks with an unmistakable tremor in her voice this time. Her knuckles are white as she balls her hands into tight fists. I place my hand over hers to help ease her tension.

“I can’t be certain,” I reply. I don’t know if I should tell her of my suspicions since I’m just speculating at this point. If I’m wrong, she’ll be scared for no reason, but if I’m right...

“But you do have an idea, don’t you?”

I nod my head, determined to keep my thoughts to myself while I puzzle them out in my mind. It is an unnerving situation, but at least now I have a license plate number to run that can help me find out exactly who is threatening me.

I hate that Millie and Lo are inadvertently involved. I don’t like them being so close to the situation. I know she’s nervous, and I want to suggest that they go stay with my mom or Nana. Millie gets along well with my grandparents, and Nana would dote on the two of them like she had royalty staying in her home.

I’m about to suggest the idea when Millie says, “Jameson, I know this may sound forward, but will you please stay over here until we know who this person is and why I’m getting security alerts in the middle of the night?”

I take a moment to think about it. I’d feel better if she were somewhere else, away from the threat completely, but this way I can check the house if another alert comes in.

It’s 2 AM, and I’ve spent the last three hours tossing and turning on Millie’s couch. It’s not that it’s an uncomfortable couch. I’m sure for a smaller person it would be a perfectly acceptable place to sleep. I, however, am 6’2” and consequently feeling exceptionally uncomfortable trying to fit myself onto this couch.

Just when I’m about to fall asleep, Millie rushes into the living room, whispering—but somehow still screaming—about an alert from the security camera on her phone. I jump off the couch, grab my gun, and go to the door. I have no plans to use the weapon for anything other than scaring the intruder into submission. Millie follows closely behind me, asking a million questions while clinging to my free arm.

“Did you see anything?” I ask at the door, hoping to get some information before I run out there.

She shakes her head and says, “Whatever is out there was gone before I woke up and looked at my phone. Do you want back up?” she asks just as a scratching noise sounds at the door. She squeaks and ducks behind the entryway table. “Or maybe I’ll stay right here.”