Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that’s all I’m saying). It’s not like I’m stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there’s nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of...
Toby
Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that’s all I’m saying). It’s not like I’m stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there’s nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying. Even if he isn’t a serial killer, maybe my seriously sexy neighbor whose eyes seem to glow red (a trick of the light, I’m sure) can help me out.
Dexter
How do you tell your cute neighbor that cutting off fingers probably won’t cause a victim to bleed out? I don’t know if trying out Toby’s writing ideas is a good method of flirting, but there’s just something about him that calls to my hellhound. He’s adorable, awkward, and all kinds of clueless. He brings out my protective instincts, and I find myself wanting to please him, even if that means figuring out some of the answers to his rather bloodthirsty questions. When I find out Toby might actually be in danger, nothing will stop my hellhound from protecting him. He’s mine, even if he doesn’t know it, and I’ll tear apart anyone who even thinks of hurting him.
