Just Neighbors

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Just Neighbors Page 12

by Charity Ferrell


  It got worse when she came back to school and gave me the smack I deserved. I was pissed, my friends were making fun of me, and I was a stupid-ass teenager, so I lied. I joked at her expense because of my embarrassment that she wanted nothing to do with me.

  Over time, we became rivals. I led her to believe I was vying for valedictorian while still throwing tests. On the day of graduation, when she shyly gave a short speech, I grinned.

  Chloe isn’t just an attractive woman. I liked her before I knew about sex or relationships or status. I wanted her to be my girlfriend then. Now, I want to make her more. After having all of her, there’s no way I’m letting her go this time.

  I’ve never touched skin as soft as hers or experienced a connection so strong with someone—both inside and outside of the bedroom. I’ve never had sex without a condom or wanted to keep a woman in my bed, like I do her.

  Fuck me. My feelings for her are stronger than I thought.

  She stirs when I press my lips against her cheek.

  “Good morning,” I whisper.

  Her eyes don’t open, but she releases a sleepy laugh. “Fuck off.”

  “As much as I love our porch routine, I love this one so much better. Say fuck in this bed as often as you like.”

  Her eyes stay closed, and she grins.

  “Call into work today,” I say when her eyes flutter open. Correction: I fucking plead.

  She yawns and keeps her head rested on the pillow. “As much as I’d love to, I can’t. Neither can you. You need to stop the criminals.”

  We’re facing each other, our eyes locked and cheeks against pillows.

  “I work second shift,” I say, stretching forward to brush back a strand of her hair. “Did you decide about hanging out with Gage and Lauren? They’re going to the city for a night and invited us.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t invite you, and you’re asking me to tag along?”

  “Babe, I doubt they’d invite me out on the town as a third wheel. They want you to come.”

  She pulls in a breath, and I take in the beauty of her blonde hair against the pillowcase and the light freckles sprinkled across her nose. “I don’t know.”

  “Give me your reasons for not wanting to go,” I challenge.

  “People are already gossiping about us hanging out. Imagine what they’ll say when we double date with your best friend.”

  I want to say, Let them talk, but don’t. She’s Chloe, and Chloe overthinks.

  “It’s out of town. No one will know us. Trust me.”

  She bites into her plump bottom lip.

  “Come on,” I tease. “It’ll be fun.”

  She throws her head back. “All right, you’ve talked me into it.”

  My eyes widen. “You do know all right means yes?”

  She laughs. “Yes, I’m well aware of what all right means. Why are you so shocked?”

  “You said yes to double-dating with me.”

  She points her finger my way. “No, I agreed to double hanging out with you.”

  “It’s a date. Admit it.”

  She holds in a smile while shaking her head.

  I slide out of bed. “I’m going to shower. Care to join?”

  She turns on her back and stretches. “A hot shower sounds amazing right now.”

  I walk around the bed to her side and hold out my hand. “I’ll be nice and share my shower with you on one condition.”

  She rises up. “What’s that?”

  “Admit we’re going on a date. I’ll share my shower, wash your hair, and then, if you’re good, give you an idea of what to look forward to on our double date.”

  She sits on the edge of the bed and stares up at me. “Maybe I’ll shower when you’re done.”

  “I’ll be sure to run all the hot water out. If you like taking cold showers, it’ll be all yours, babe.”

  She stares at me with reluctance.

  “Say it,” I tease. “You know you want to.”

  “Fine. I’ll go on a double date with you.”

  I grab her around the waist and throw her over my shoulder. “All right, since you insist, I’ll go on a double date with you!”

  “I told you I’d make you breakfast in bed one day,” I say, shooting a glance over at Chloe. “I have a future breakfast lover in my bed.”

  Plates with pancakes and eggs are balanced on our sheet-covered legs, and our backs are resting against the headboard.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be a breakfast person,” she comments, turning to grab her cup of coffee from the nightstand and taking a drink.

  “What’s your beef with breakfast, huh?” I ask. I cut into my pancake, smother it in syrup, and take a bite.

  She sets her cup down and shrugs. “It’s not my thing. Sometimes, I’ll grab something while on the go, but it’s not a meal I’ve ever looked forward to. My mom didn’t bother with feeding us well-balanced meals, and we were stuck with what the food pantry handed out. Most of the time, it was plain, generic cereal that I grew tired of.”

  If there wasn’t a plate of food on her lap, I’d drag her to my side and collect her in my arms. I wish I could’ve helped her when we were younger, given her someone to ask for help when she needed a cheeseburger or a friend. I should’ve never taken the broken girl to the football field and shattered her more. I never planned for us to hook up, and contrary to what Chloe believes, I never meant for anyone to follow us. All I wanted was to kiss her, but one thing led to another, and the horny teenager in me was game for whatever she’d allow.

  “I will make you breakfast every morning in exchange for you not telling me to fuck off.” I playfully elbow her. “Deal?”

  She glances at me sideways and points to me with her fork. “I’ll get back to you on that, Officer.” She takes a giant bite and nods while chewing it up. “And, since you’re always asking me for favors, I have one to ask of you.”

  “Lay it on me. Getting a yes from me will be more effortless than getting one from you.”

  She nervously looks away.

  “Spit it out. You asking for my firstborn?”

  I’ve come to realize Chloe never asks anyone for anything. This must be important to her.

  She takes in a quick breath. “Trey has a football game tomorrow. He asked me to invite you.”

  That’s it? She’s nervous about a football game? The fuck?

  “I’ll be there.”

  She squints at me. “What? That was too easy.”

  “Did you want it to be complicated? He has a football game. I don’t have plans. Why would I say no?”

  She shrugs. “Kent never wanted anything to do with Trey or Gloria.” She frowns. “Sometimes, he acted like they were more of an inconvenience.”

  I like kids and consider myself a good big brother. Trey seems like he can use a good big brother influence.

  “You still haven’t realized that Kent is an asshole? Him bailing on Trey’s games isn’t a surprise,” I say. “I don’t blame him for bailing. He didn’t like being reminded of how he couldn’t catch a football to save his life.”

  “Oh my God, you’re terrible!”

  A piece of pancake falls from her mouth when she snorts, and I laugh as she stares at me in horror. I shrug it off, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable about it, and she grabs her napkin to clean up her mess.

  “In the beginning, it was a healthy relationship. He was a good boyfriend,” she says. “He wasn’t a cheater or so self-centered. Maybe it was a game to him. Men seem to enjoy games.” She throws me a dirty look.

  “A boyfriend who can’t give you an orgasm isn’t a good boyfriend,” I counter.

  “It wasn’t like that every time, only a few. Women don’t always get off, Kyle. Google it if you doubt me.”

  I grab her empty plate, set it on top of mine, and place them on the nightstand. I don’t regularly leave dirty dishes in my bedroom, but I’ll take care of them as soon as we’re done with this stupid conversation about her lame-ass ex.

&nbs
p; “A few times he didn’t give you an orgasm or a few times he did?”

  She scowls and folds her arms across my tee she’s wearing. “I’m not talking about my old sex partner with my new sex partner.”

  I hold my hand up. “Please do not refer to me as your new sex partner again.”

  “Then, what would you like me to refer to you as? My booty call? My neighbor dick?”

  I start counting out the names on my fingers. “The guy who gives you the best orgasms. Your favorite dick. The guy you are kind of dating but don’t want to admit it. Refer to Kent as your sex partner all you want—your inadequate sex partner—but not me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so mean.”

  “Don’t defend a chump, and I won’t be.”

  “He was the only guy who’d speak to me after what you did, you know.”

  I gape at her. “Wow. Did you know he never once stood up for you in the locker room? In fact, not to hurt your feelings, but he cracked plenty of jokes at your expense. Plenty.”

  She waves off my information. “He was a stupid high school boy. We didn’t start dating until after college.”

  “He gets to be a stupid high school boy, but I’m fucking Satan?”

  “The rumors started because of you.” She fixes her stare on me but isn’t as pissed as she normally is when we talk about this. Hurt is clear on her face, but now, there’s a thin layer of understanding. She’s lowering her walls, trusting me, and finally giving me a chance to explain myself. “You could’ve changed everything and stopped your friends and girlfriend from making my life miserable.”

  I suck my cheeks in. “You wouldn’t speak to me!”

  “Why would I?” she snaps. “You set me up!”

  I repeatedly shake my head. “I never set you up. That’s bullshit.”

  She snorts. “Oh, come on. We’re hooking up, and then, boom, your asshole posse of friends shows up to take humiliating pictures of me. I used to think you were this amazing guy. I can’t even explain how excited I was when you invited me to the dance. It was my first dance and turned out to be utter hell—because of you, Kyle. I was stupid enough to believe you liked me.”

  Whoa. What?

  I glance at her and refuse to continue our conversation until her eyes meet mine. Hers are sad. Understandably, this conversation hurts her, but I’m glad we’re finally talking this out. There’s a thickness in my throat when I respond. Even though I couldn’t stop them from finding us, she’s right that I could’ve attempted to stop their teasing. Chloe hurt me, and I let my stupid male ego stand in the way of realizing I could’ve stood up for her.

  “Chloe,” I gently say, “I would’ve never asked you to the dance if I didn’t like you.”

  She scoffs as an attempt to hide the hurt. “You invited me as a joke, as a prank.”

  I wince. She thinks it was a prank?

  “Chloe, I swear to you, me inviting you to the dance was not a prank. Should I have taken you to the field? No. I wanted to kiss you, and it sounded better, maybe even romantic in my teenage eyes, than in some supply closet or a bedroom at an after-party where my friends were taking their dates. I never brought you there to put on a show for the school. They also took pictures of me with my pants down.”

  “Which made the girls want you more,” she cuts in.

  Shame fills me. It’s true.

  “Why would I take you as a prank? I could’ve had anyone go with me.”

  She throws her hands up. “Oh, wow, everyone. Let’s welcome Kyle’s ego to the conversation.”

  “I didn’t say it to brag but to make a point. I sincerely liked you. You intrigued me. You were smart and fucking gorgeous, and your personality was genuine. You never said a distasteful word about anyone, and you worked hard for everything you had.” I blow out a stressed breath. “Did it piss me off when you wouldn’t even let me explain myself? Yes. Did it piss me off when you slapped me in front of my friends? Yes. So, I decided, Fuck it. If she wants nothing to do with me, then it is what it is.”

  “You let them make my life a living hell,” she grinds out.

  I situate myself, so I’m sitting in front of her when I notice tears slipping down her cheeks. Shit. I don’t want to make her cry, especially in my bed.

  She attempts to look away and hide her swollen face and tears, but I don’t allow it. Her eyes dart toward the bathroom door and then the hallway, searching for an escape plan so that I don’t see her without her armor on.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, cupping her face with my hands. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it better. You want me to put an ad out in the paper? Wear a tee with an apology letter on it?”

  She sniffles but is no longer trying to pull away. I still haven’t earned eye contact yet though.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s over with.”

  I grimace and soften my tone. “If it still hurts you, then it matters. I’m sorry, Chloe. I was a stupid little prick who didn’t think about where my actions would lead. I’m sorry.”

  She inhales a few calming breaths before releasing a nervous laugh. “Thank you. Even though we can’t go back in time, I’m glad we talked about it. It was long overdue, and I should’ve come to you about it. You also should’ve grown some balls and made an announcement or even put out a stupid ad, you prick.”

  “If it counts for anything, I broke up with Becky Binds after she wrote slut on your locker. Oh, and I punched Daniel Moore for asking me if I’d put in a good word with you for him to get into your panties.”

  “Wow, that makes sense now. While I appreciate the attempt and your intentions might have been pure, you breaking up with her made her hate me more.”

  “Shit, that sure backfired on me, didn’t it?”

  She nods.

  “I can still put out an ad now, you know?” I stretch forward and grab my phone from the nightstand. “Let me call Melanie and see who’s in charge of advertising in The Blue Beech Register. I’ll ask them to draft up something.” I hold my phone up. “Do you think we can have it in this week’s paper?”

  She snatches my phone from me. “Oh God, no! I was kidding!” She points it at me. “Swear to God, if there’s anything with my name in the paper tomorrow, I’m killing you. I can see Melanie being sneaky and allowing you to do it.”

  “So, you’re done hating me now?” I attempt the best look of innocence I can manage.

  “No matter how I feel toward you now, I will always hate you for it.” A smile plays at her lips, and she pinches two fingers together while shutting one eye. “A little less now.”

  I grip her waist and draw her toward me. “Let me fuck all that hate out of you, and you can work on loving me.”

  We both flinch at my words.

  Oh fuck.

  That was the worst thing to say.

  I have feelings for her but can’t love her.

  We hardly know each other.

  I’ve never been in love with a chick.

  In high school, I thought I was in love a few times, but again, I was a dumb fucking teenager.

  I act like the words never came out of my mouth and kiss her, hoping my dick will help her forget them.

  Fifteen

  Kyle

  “What are you doing here?”

  I turn around to find a woman I vaguely recognize. I know her from somewhere but can’t pinpoint exactly where. Her blonde hair is teased, her top is low-cut enough to show me her push-up bra, and hints of red lipstick decorate her front teeth.

  “And you are?” I question.

  “I’m Claudia, Chloe’s sister,” she answers with a snarl.

  Ah, yes.

  I’ve arrested her a few times. She’s called me every name in the book and then some I’ve never heard before. Chick might be a junkie, but she’s creative as fuck with her insults.

  “You need to leave,” she demands with a hostility I don’t understand.

  Chloe said her sister hated my guts, but damn, this is overboard.<
br />
  We’re in a crowd of people, and my hands are full with concession stand snacks. This isn’t the best place to hold this conversation.

  “I’m here for the same reason you are,” I answer. “To watch the football game.”

  Her shoulders slightly relax, but her tone is still louder than necessary. “Trey said you got him off the hook for stealing from that Garfield bitch.”

  People stop at her words, and they glance at us with curiosity, some even with disgust.

  I lower my voice, hoping she’ll do the same. “I helped him out, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I like to help people.”

  She takes a step toward me. “Is that what you’re doing? Helping my sister like you’re goddamn Superman? Do not use my children as a pawn to fuck her.” She shakes her head. “I know your type. Your stuck-up wife who can’t suck dick properly bores you in the bedroom, so you come to us trash to entertain you instead. When you’re finished getting your rocks off, we get thrown away.”

  Fuck, the shit Chloe has to put up with from this woman.

  No wonder she’s always stressed the fuck out. This chick has raised my blood pressure after a five-minute conversation. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live around her. I need to help Chloe remove some of her sister’s weight off her shoulders, maybe help out with the kids.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, Claudia, but there’s no boring housewife sitting at home, so I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I reply with a smile. “And I doubt I’ll ever grow bored with her.”

  She winces and takes a moment to come up with a response. She didn’t expect my answer. “You’ll have one eventually and then throw my sister away. I’m here to stop that.”

  “It won’t happen, so do yourself a favor and stop worrying about Chloe. Pass your worries onto your children. Now, let’s go enjoy your son’s game.”

  I walk away before she can respond and head toward the bleachers where Gloria and Chloe are waiting. I hand them their goods and take a seat next to Chloe. Minutes later, Claudia and a man sit down in the row behind us.

  “Kyle,” Chloe says, gesturing to them, “this is my sister and her friend—”

 

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