I'm sitting on the picnic bench outside our apartment when I hear a deep, sultry voice whisper, "I want to kiss you." I turn to see Nate looking at me with so much ferocity in his eyes that I nearly fall over from how weak he makes me feel.

"I-I can't," I stammer.

"Why not?"

"Because..." I start but can't come up with a good enough reason not to kiss him.

"Sounds to me like you really have no reason not to let me kiss you."

"We're neighbors!" I exclaim, the moment I remember.

"And?" he says, completely blowing off my reason.

"And...well...it would be wrong."

"The right kind of wrong," he says with a grin as he scoots closer to me on the bench.

"Don't come any closer," I tell him and scoot as far away from him as I can, well as much as the bench permits, but he isn't having it and closes the small distance between us.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Stay away from me."

"Why so nervous?"

"Because you make me nervous," I admit, hating him for getting the truth out of me.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Now keep your distance." I tell him, knowing that if he tries to make a move on me I won't be able to resist for long.

"That's not an option," he responds with a smirk and places his hand on the back of my neck.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What you clearly want but are too afraid to ask."

"You can't know that."

"Oh, but I do," he responds with a seductive smile and slowly pulls me towards him. I swallow back nervously and feel my pulse race as his lips get closer and closer to mine.

"Please don't do this." I plead, hoping he'll be reasonable enough to stop what he is about to do because I honestly don't have it in me to pull away. Especially not now that he is so close to me.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle," he promises and finally closes the remaining distance between us just as a loud, incessant whistle goes off; waking me from my very vivid dream that felt so real.

I groan in complaint, hating the blaring sound that ruined my perfectly good dream and reach out with my eyes still closed to find whatever is whistling so I can shut it up. I want nothing more than to keep sleeping, but somehow in the middle of finding whatever is whistling incessantly, I managed to fall on something that is hard yet squishy. It surprisingly isn't uncomfortable and is actually good enough to sleep on but my mind yells at me to wake up because something is clearly off.

I quickly sit up and open up my eyes to find that I am straddling a half-naked Nate, who is wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. I meet his gaze and see nothing but amusement reflected in his mischievous blue eyes, and curse my luck for falling on him of all people.

"Good morning," he greets me with a big goofy grin, not bothered at all by the fact that I not only fell on him but am also straddling him.

"I am so sorry." I apologize, feeling embarrassed by the whole situation and swiftly climb off him, making sure to sit as far away from him as I can. I need to get my bearings together and with him so close I can't think.

I end up near the door with my back facing the entrance and my body facing him.

"No need to apologize," he tells me as he sits up and leans back against the nightstand.

"But I fell on you," I say bluntly and he shrugs his shoulders.

"And? It's not every day that a beautiful girl like you falls on me, so I'll take what I can get," he says with a wink.

"I'm not beautiful," I retort and curse my blushing cheeks for reacting to his compliment.

"You are. You just don't see it."

"Please don't lecture me. It's way too early for that right now," I mutter.

"Fine."

"Now tell me, where exactly am I?" I ask him, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings.

"My bedroom," he says nonchalantly as if it's no big deal, while I'm over here freaking out on the inside because I am in the room of the most attractive guy I have ever laid eyes on. Yeah, that's no big deal. No big deal at all, I think to myself but clearly, I'm just lying to myself to try and stay calm.

I know I shouldn't but I can't help but look around because I am nosey and also really curious what his space is like.

The first thing I notice is that the wall directly behind his bed is painted a matte black. Leaning right up against the wall is a simple black headboard that stands out nicely against the paint that is a lighter shade of black. On each side of his queen size bed is a black nightstand that matches his bedroom set.

Right above his bed is a gorgeous black and white canvas that shows the perspective of someone who is looking over the shoulder of a girl holding a camera. In the picture, you can see what the girl is looking at through the viewfinder of the camera but if you look just beyond that, where the girl's eyes are focused, you will see the beautiful sunset setting right in front of the girls very eyes. To some, it may seem like just a pretty picture but to me it has meaning.

To me, that picture says that not every moment should be captured through the lens of a camera and instead should be enjoyed with your own two eyes because a picture no matter how much it speaks to you will never be able to capture or evoke everything you see and feel in any particular moment. It's better to experience things for yourself than to let them pass you by behind the viewfinder of a camera.

I turn to him and see that he is staring at me and I don't know why.

"Do I have something on my face or something?" I ask him and he shakes his head with a smile.

"No, I just kind of got lost in your eyes."

"You did not just say that," I respond in disbelief.

"And what if I did?"

"You're such a cheeseball. Who says that kind of crap?"

"I do. Did it work?" he says with a grin and I laugh.

"Nope. Not one bit. That is the cheesiest line I've ever heard."

"Well, at least it got you to laugh."

"That it did," I say with a smile and brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

He looks down at his hands and finally breaks eye contact, letting the moment sift between us. I wait expectantly for him to say something, but he just sits there lost in thought.

"What does that picture mean to you?" I ask and point at the portrait hanging above his bed. I know what I think it means but I am genuinely curious what he thinks, because not everyone interprets things the same, so I can't help but wonder if he sees what I see when I look at it.

He turns to look up at the portrait and smiles. "I took that picture a long time ago and it's still one of my favorites." He says proudly and turns to me. "But rather than tell you what I think, I would love to hear what you think it means."

"You took that?" I ask surprised, changing the subject, and he smiles at my response.

"Yes, I took those too," he says, pointing to the wall that is to the left side of the bed.

The wall is dedicated to a collage that is made up of different sized black frames and inside each frame is a black and white photograph that I now know he captured himself.

I don't wait for an invitation to look at them up close and stand up and walk right over to the wall. I know it's rather rude to not ask first but there's no way I'm going to leave his place without seeing his pictures up close.

I take them in one by one and learn that he loves capturing candid portraits, landscapes and different moments in time that I have no doubt mean something to him. Each photograph is beautiful and unique in its own way and I can't help but stare at them in awe.

I take them all in and see that at the very center of the collage is a quote in a big black frame. The quote reads, "Beauty can be seen in all things, seeing and composing the beauty is what separates the snapshot from the photograph." I look at the bottom of the canvas the quote is printed on and see that the quote is from Matt Hardy. I have no doubt he chose this specific quote because it represents everything his pictures embody.

"How are you so talented?" I ask aloud and he chuckles from behind me, making me nearly jump in my place. "You scared me!" I exclaim and place my hand over my heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just curious what your reaction would be to my work. I'm always curious what people think when they first see my photographs. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he says almost timidly.

"I love it. All of it," I say, complimenting his collage. It's simple but classy and so freaking beautiful. It gives me collage envy.

"I'll let my sister know when I see her next time."

"I'm guessing she created the collage for you."

"Yeah, I never could have done it without her. She has a good eye for interior design, so she helped me out when I moved in."

"That was really nice of her."

"It was," he says with a smile and stares at his collage appreciatively.

"You wanted to know what I think of your work, right?" I ask him, changing the subject and that immediately gets his attention. He lowers his gaze and stares into my eyes so intently I nearly quiver under his gaze.

"Tell me. I want to hear your thoughts," he finally says.

"Well...I think you're super talented and anybody would be lucky to be photographed by you."

"Even you?"

"Anyone but me," I correct.

"I don't understand your aversion to pictures." He's not the only one that wonders that very same thing. I hate explaining myself though because people would never understand. Especially since we live in an era where selfies are everything. So rather than explain, I just avoid selfies and group pictures like the plague, because just like any mirror, pictures reflect what I don't want to see. Me.

"I just hate how I look," I admit and look away, refusing to look him in the eyes as I say it. I don't need his pity. "When I see pictures of myself, I always have that stupid hope that I will look beautiful, but I don't ever see someone beautiful. I see someone fat and disgusting, and I hate her. I hate her with every fiber of my being," I whisper the last part and am surprised when he pulls me in for a hug and tucks my head under his chin.

I lay my forehead against his chest and close my eyes, not caring if this is wrong. I do it knowing full well there may be someone else in his life, and I am well aware that we are nothing more than neighbors, but when a man holds you the way Nate is holding me, nothing else matters.

He holds me tighter and I smile, feeling thankful for him because he has shown me kindness that no one ever has. I feel completely undeserving of it because he doesn't know me and he has no reason to care about me, but the way he holds me, makes me feel special. Like I matter.

I have never mattered to anyone. Not once.

I feel a tear run down my cheek and he doesn't say anything. He just rubs my back and holds me in his arms.

"I know nothing I say will change the way you feel about yourself right now, but I just want you to know that you are beautiful. You can't see that right now because you are so blinded by self-hate, but it's time you learn to let that go so you can start healing."

"I can't," I mutter against his chest, refusing to look up at him.

"Yes you can," he tells me and places his finger under my chin. He lifts my head and makes me look him in the eyes. "You need to let all that hate go so you can learn to see past it. When you do, you will be able to see that under all that self-hatred is a gorgeous woman just waiting to be discovered. You just need to learn to love her first so you can see what I see." The moment he finishes talking, I lose it as a sob racks my body.

My legs go limp and I start to slip through his arms. Nate slides his arm under my knees and lifts me up and carries me over to his bed. He lays me down on his white sheets and tucks me in. I expect him to leave me in his bed by myself while I cry my heart out, but he surprises me when he climbs into bed with me.

He lays behind me and slips his right arm under my head before pulling me tight against his chest so there is no room between us. He takes my hand in his and kisses my palm and that just brings on a whole new set of tears.

I tuck our hands underneath my chin and just hold our hands close to my heart. He doesn't say anything but his actions say more than words ever could.

I feel him kiss the back of my head and close my eyes. My heart aches because I know this moment will be short lived and when we both get out of this bed it won't have meant anything to him. That more than anything guts me because I can already feel myself falling for him. I can't afford to fall for someone like Nate, because he and I can never be more than just friends.

"Nate," I say reluctantly because I just want to stay in this moment and never leave, but the last thing I need is to be in my head right now.

"Yeah?"

"What does the portrait mean to you?" I ask him in an attempt to get him to distract me.

"Which one?"

"The one above your headboard with the girl holding the camera."

"What does it mean to you?" he asks me and I turn in his arms and face him.

"I asked you first."

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

"Is this like I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" I say and he chuckles.

"Something like that," he responds amused. "So what do you see when you look at the portrait of the girl holding the camera?"

"I see a girl who is taking in the beautiful sunset with her own two eyes rather than capturing the moment with her camera." As I say this, he looks at me with nothing but warmth in his eyes. His hand lifts towards my face and my heart races.

He caresses my cheek and brushes my loose hair behind my ear and then slowly trails his fingers across my cheek and takes extra care wiping away each and every tear that mars my face.

"That's exactly what I was going for when I took that picture," he finally says after wiping away all my tears. I can't help but swoon on the inside, because this gentle man has shown me more kindness in the little time we have known each other than anyone ever has. And as grateful as I am for his unyielding kindness, I can't help but feel devastated, because deep down I know a man like him could never be mine.

Not in this life.

"I wanted to show that not everything should be captured through the viewfinder of a camera. Some moments you just have to experience them for yourself and live in the moment," he says with a boyish smile and I can't help but smile back. "Kind of like this moment," he adds. "It just wouldn't be the same on camera."

"No, definitely not," I admit. I mean it would be great to have pictures to look back on this very moment, but there's nothing like getting to feel his touch and being held in his arms. No picture could ever evoke what I feel in this moment. And right now, in this moment, I feel cherished and safe. That's something I've never felt with anyone. Not until Nate.

Too bad all good things must come to an end, including this moment. But I'm not ready to let it go. Not just yet.

I want to stay in this moment with Nate as long as I can.

"Nate, how'd I get here last night?" I ask him, refusing to let the conversation end. "I clearly remember falling asleep on the bench table."

"I carried you over here once you fell asleep. Luckily you didn't wake up. Otherwise, you probably would have given me shit for it," he tells me with a chuckle, bringing a smile to my face.

"You're probably right," I admit with a laugh, knowing I probably would have freaked out on him if I had woken up while he was carrying me over to his place.

"I hope you slept okay."

"I did," I say gratefully. "But I'm sorry you didn't," I add apologetically.

"It wasn't all that bad."

"Why didn't you sleep on the bed and place me on the floor? I was asleep anyway. I wouldn't have even noticed the difference."

"Because my mom raised me better than that, and thanks to her I know how to treat a woman right."

"It's not that big of a deal. It's just the floor."

"Maybe not to you, but it is to me."

"You could have at least slept on the bed next to me."

"And have you freak out on me when you wake up the next morning? Yeah, no thanks," he says with a laugh.

"Yeah, I probably would have screamed," I admit. "I just hate the thought of you sleeping on the floor in your own home," I say with a shrug.

"I'm fine."

"And if you're not, I doubt you would tell me anyway."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm fine," he reassures me. "How are you feeling?" Nate asks me concerned and gently strokes my cheek. I never knew someone's touch could feel so good until I met him.

"Better," I respond with a small smile and grab his hand in mine. I know we are going too far for just being neighbors, but I don't want to stop whatever is happening between us. Deep down, I know it's wrong, but how can something wrong feel so right?

"Now that you're feeling better, how would you like some breakfast?"

"Is that even a question? Breakfast is like the best meal of the day. I can eat that shit anytime, anywhere," I tell him and quickly cover my mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cuss. I clearly got a little too excited about breakfast," I mutter against my hand.

He pulls it away from my mouth and smiles. "No need to apologize. It's not like you just cussed in front of a toddler or something. I cuss too. I just try to behave myself around you. I wouldn't want you getting the wrong idea about me," he says with a wink.

"I have a hard time believing cuss words come out of that mouth," I look down at his lips and know I messed up as soon as I did. I quickly lift my gaze to meet his eyes and see that they are hooded. "So how about that breakfast?" I say, breaking whatever trance he was in.

"On it." He stands up from the bed with his back turned to me and my mouth falls wide open.

I thought his abs were something special, but his back wins hands down. It is seriously the sexiest back I have ever seen. I could stare at it all day if he let me. Is that weird? Probably. But there is just something so sexy about a broad, muscular back, and it's not my fault he has one. No one told him to have a sexy back, but since he does, I'm going to admire it while I can.

I stare at his backside unabashedly, and by some miracle, he doesn't catch on that I am practically ogling him when he turns to me and offers me his hand.

I clear my throat and push away all the thoughts I shouldn't be having of my neighbor, who is clearly too sexy for his own good. Instead, I focus on his handsome face, which is also a major problem because it's distracting just like the rest of him. I wouldn't doubt that someone up there is having a good laugh at my ridiculous dilemma.

"I should probably go home first," I stammer and he helps me up.

"Are you seriously going to make me wait?" he asks with the cutest puppy dog eyes that I cannot resist for the life of me.

"Ugh. Fine. I guess I'll skip the shower for now. I could really use one though."

"You can always use mine."

"Or I could go back home, and take one really quick."

"No deal. I'm starving and would rather you stay and skip the shower."

"Well can I at least use the restroom then?" I ask with a laugh.