How is it that it's only two o'clock?

She did all her laundry, cleaned her apartment, threw away old cans of soup that she honestly couldn't remember buying, watched three episodes of a british drama, cleaned her bathroom and reorganized her clothes. There was nothing left to do in her apartment but wait. For two more hours. Ugh.

Emma walked over to the window for the hundredth time to see if she could see anything in his apartment. Just like before, they were all sealed shut. She couldn't even see into the spare room, which was usually wide open. It was like he knew she liked to watch and purposely closed everything up. No, she didn't give anything away that she did that anyway, so how could he know?

I might as well grab something to eat since I haven't had anything all day. Besides, four o'clock is hardly dinner time. It's barely late lunch.

Emma grabbed her keys and walked towards the door, but then remembered how the weatherman said it would be chilly out and looked for her jacket. I cleaned the whole place and now I can't find a jacket?

She walked around the living room, checked the hall closet, then walked into the bedroom looking everywhere. Walking towards the other side of the bed, closest to the window, she found it on the floor, clearly it had fallen off the side. Once last glance out the window she peered across the way.

The curtain in his bedroom moved.

She looked again, seeing if it was a movement from a fan or thermostat.

Maybe he has a cat?

He never has cat hair on him. Or any pet hair for that matter.

She watched the curtain that moved and saw nothing. Standing still for a full minute, not seeing anything more, she shook her head. I must have been seeing things.

She walked back into the living room and made to walk out the door, but looked back once more to the windows. The curtains in her living room were wide open, allowing the sunshine warm the apartment on its own. She dropped down on all fours and crawled over towards them.

What am I doing? Oh just walking all fours, seeing if the hot guy is actually in the apartment. No big deal.

She reached the wall to the left of her sofa and stood up slowly, her back grazing the print behind her. She turned her head and peeked behind the curtain just enough that it didn't make movement and looked across the way.

There he was.

Killian was looking out his bedroom window towards her bedroom!

That spying bastard! He's been watching me! When I tell him this...wait.

Suddenly telling him she knew he was spying on her only to admit she was spying on him was probably not the way to go. She had to play this right.

Sliding back down the wall, she crawled back to the front door, grabbed her jacket and keys then went out the door. She took the stairs at the end of the hall then went down a floor to peek out the hallway. Seeing no one waiting for the elevator, she proceeded down the stairs one more flight and grabbed the elevator on the 9th floor. That way if he pressed the button upstairs, he would have to wait for the one she jumped on to drop her off first to come back up to him. She didn't know if he would be waiting for the elevator or not, but she didn't need to bump into him right now. She needed to plan out her night. Evening. Afternoon. Whatever.

Finally getting to her car unnoticed, she drove out and went to Smee's.

He always knew how to make a quick BLT. Plus I'm sure Killian won't be here.

Emma pulled up to Smee's, parked the car and walked to the door, peeking in the windows, confirming there wasn't a hot British man looking for her. Paranoia was setting in thick.

"Smee, can I get my usual and a water," she asked as she sat down.

"Sure thing, you want fries?"

"Nah, hold the fries, I just need something simple. Also, um, you got a second for advice," Emma asked quietly.

Smee looked his question, "Usually you don't want me to play the bartender until you have a score. What's up?"

Emma nodded thanks as she received a glass of water from him.

"I have a perp who's kind of a 'Tom'. Altho the fix that he has, is peeping back at him. And I'm trying to help her out. It sounds like it's not really a bad situation, just awkward. I don't think she wants him to know she's figured he's checking her out, so to speak. How would you handle it?"

Smee grabbed a bag of bread under the counter, then bent down to his mini fridge he kept under the bar stocked with sandwich fixings he made for regulars. Setting the mayonnaise jar down he looked at her quizzically.

"So you got a woman who figured out she's being watched by a guy, which sounds like she's fine with it, but she wants to get him back for it?"

She took a sip of water, "Essentially, yes."

Smee grabbed the lettuce and tomato, placing it on each slice of bread. Then grabbed bacon and put it on top of the lettuce before closing it together and slapping it on a plate for her.

"If I were her, I'd have fun with it. Start doing some crazy things, make him see that's she's nuts and he'll be crazy to keep doing it. Unless she likes him. Then if that were the case, I'd drive him nuts. But I'm more of a jokester anyway."

Emma took a bite of her sandwich and pondered the scenario.

If he saw something he was expecting then it would almost be too perfect.

Emma started eating with vigor, a plan formulating with each bite. Once she was done she had it all planned out. Throwing a twenty on the bar she thanked Smee and headed out.

Killian looked out the window seeing nothing in the past hour to notify that Emma was home. He went back to the kitchen and cut up vegetables to the cheese spread he would have out later. He knew it wasn't a date. As much as she kept bringing it up the other night. But it didn't mean he couldn't be a good host. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was half past three and walked over to the living room window to open the curtains wide, allowing sunlight to filter through.

He didn't immediately know that she lived across from him. Looking out the window one day and he just happened to notice the unmistakable blond hair as she ran from what he could only imagine was her bedroom to her living room. He saw a shirt fly off at one point and thought she was going to a shower but instead walked by the living room and grabbed a bottle of water. That was the day she went to the gym for the first time. What a sight that was.

Killian uncorked a bottle of Cabernet and left it to breathe on the back counter. He remembered he needed a couple hand towels that were still in his laundry basket in the bedroom and ran in there, catching the light of her hair glancing up at her bedroom window. His breath caught as he saw her pull out dresses from the closet. She grabbed one, no two, wait she's pulling out a lot of dresses. How many bloody dresses did she own that were red? It looked like five. She held a few of them up to her body looking side to side in a mirror that was near the window, thank the gods. He saw her take them off the hangers and place in what he could only assume was a bag as it was out of sight. She then pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail.

Oh how he wanted to run his hands through her hair again. He hadn't stopped thinking about the kiss yesterday. It was impossible not to. It had affected her as well, that he knew as fact. What he didn't expect was for the intense feeling that came afterwards when he walked back to his apartment. All he could think about was how much he needed her. And he hadn't needed anyone since…

He stepped back and went back to the towels and walked back into the kitchen the put them on the stove handle. He turned on the TV to a radio station with ambient music and waited the next twenty or so minutes until she arrived. Placing assorted cheeses and grapes on a platter along with the precut vegetables. He checked the time again. Five minutes.

His hands were clammy, which hadn't happened since he was a lad. He was nervous? He never got nervous! Taking in the apartment once more he looked to see if anything was amiss. There were a couple boxes in the corner that he decided could be hidden in the spare room. As he bent to get them, his eye caught the picture frame. Liam. And Milah. Taking a shaky breath he grabbed the frame and placed it gently in the boxes he was taking to the other room. He didn't need the added guilt of them watching over this afternoon.

Boxes tucked away in the spare room's closet, he sat on a barstool and grabbed a wine glass and bottle of wine. He needed to not think of the past. There's nothing he can do about it now anyway.

A knock at the door shook him out of his reverie. He breathed out once more. She was here.