She's been watching you, the rational part of his mind noted with uncomfortable clarity. Sketching you without permission. This is exactly what he meant about invasive behavior.
But even as that realization sent unease prickling along his spine, James forced himself to focus on the immediate crisis. Whatever Sophia's artistic obsessions, she was clearly unwell and needed medical attention.
He knelt beside the couch and checked her pulse at her wrist, rapid but steady. Her breathing was shallow but regular, her skin still clammy but not dangerously cold. James was reaching for his phone to call 911 when the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway caught his attention.
A knock at the door interrupted his emergency planning, and James hesitated for a moment before deciding to answer it. Through the peephole, he could see Harold, the building's weekend doorman, a retired paramedic who'd taken the position partly out of boredom and partly because the management company appreciated having someone with medical training available during off-hours.
"Harold," James said as he opened the door, relief flooding through him. "Thank God. Sophia collapsed in the hallway, and I'm not sure..."
"Saw it happen on the security monitor," Harold interrupted, already moving past James toward the couch where Sophia lay. "Figured you might need assistance. Good thing I was watching the hallway feeds."
Harold was a compact man in his sixties with the no-nonsense demeanor of someone who'd seen every kind of medical emergency during his years with the city ambulance service. He knelt beside Sophia with practiced efficiency, checking her pulse and breathing while asking James rapid-fire questions about what he'd witnessed.
"She was walking toward her door, said she felt dizzy, then just collapsed," James explained, grateful to have someone more qualified taking charge of the situation. "I caught her before she hit the ground."
Harold nodded, already pulling a small flashlight from his kit to check Sophia's pupil response. "Classic vasovagal episode, most likely. Happens more often than you'd think, especially in young women who don't eat enough or sleep enough. You did the right thing getting her horizontal."
As Harold continued his assessment, James found himself backing toward the door, suddenly uncomfortable remaining in Sophia's private space now that professional help had arrived. The sketches on the coffee table seemed to stare at him accusingly, reminders of the boundary issues that had led to their strained relationship in the first place.
"I should probably..." James began, but Harold cut him off with a dismissive wave.
"Go on, son. I've got this handled. Twenty years with the city ambulance service, I'm more than qualified to deal with fainting episodes. I'll stay with her until she comes around fully, make sure she's stable."
James felt a surge of gratitude for the older man's competence and willingness to help. "Are you sure? I don't mind staying if..."
"No need," Harold said firmly, his attention already focused back on his patient. "These things look scarier than they are most of the time. She'll be embarrassed enough when she wakes up without having an audience."
That decided it for James. He thanked Harold again and stepped back into the hallway, pulling Sophia's door closed behind him with a soft click.
The moment she heard the door close, Sophia's eyes snapped open, her jaw clenched with fury at how spectacularly her plan had backfired. She'd managed the fainting episode perfectly, the right amount of pallor achieved through careful breath control, the dramatic collapse timed for maximum impact, even the clammy skin produced through sheer force of will and nervous perspiration.
But Harold's unexpected intervention had ruined everything.
"There we go," the doorman said cheerfully as he noticed her apparent return to consciousness. "Feeling better now that you're lying down?"
Sophia forced herself to maintain the fiction, blinking slowly as if coming out of genuine disorientation. "What... what happened?" she managed, her voice appropriately weak and confused.
"You fainted, dear. Your neighbor James caught you before you hit the ground, good reflexes on that young man. Classic vasovagal response, nothing to worry about as long as it doesn't become a pattern."
James was here, Sophia thought, trying to find some silver lining in the disaster. He was in my apartment, he saw my work, he was concerned enough to help me.
But even as she clung to these small victories, the larger failure loomed over her like a dark cloud. She'd had James alone in her space, vulnerable to her influence, exactly where she'd wanted him. And then Harold had appeared like some kind of guardian angel, whisking away her opportunity before she could capitalize on it.
"I should probably sit up slowly," Sophia said, maintaining her weak and disoriented act while Harold monitored her pulse and blood pressure with professional thoroughness.
"Take your time," Harold advised. "I've got nowhere urgent to be, and the management company pays me to handle situations exactly like this. Can't have tenants collapsing in the hallways without proper follow-up."
For the next twenty minutes, Sophia endured Harold's well-meaning but unwanted medical attention, answering questions about her diet, sleep schedule, and stress levels while internally seething at the cosmic unfairness of his timing. By the time he was satisfied that she was stable and didn't require emergency medical care, Sophia felt like she might genuinely faint from sheer frustration.
"You should take it easy for the rest of the day," Harold advised as he packed up his medical supplies. "Plenty of fluids, something light to eat, maybe a nap if you feel up to it. And if you have any more episodes like this, don't hesitate to call me or 911."
Sophia nodded dutifully, playing the role of grateful patient while calculating how quickly she could get him out of her apartment. "Thank you so much, Harold. I don't know what I would have done without your help."
"Just doing my job," Harold replied with the satisfied air of someone who genuinely enjoyed being useful. "James seemed pretty worried about you, nice to know the neighbors look out for each other in this building."
The casual mention of James's concern sent a flutter of hope through Sophia's chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by renewed frustration at the missed opportunity. She'd had him right where she wanted him, had created the perfect scenario for intimate physical contact, and Harold's medical training had turned what should have been a seduction into a clinical emergency response.