My Enemy Next Door

by Nicole London

  “I’ll pass. I have enough friends.” I notice a dimple in his cheek. “How come you don’t have any of your own?”

  “I have some associates, but I don’t think too many people at Blue Harbor know what real friendship is.”

  “Sometimes I feel that way, too,” I say. “It’s all based on social ladders and stuff, and who wants to be seen with who. And it’s like people are just trying hard to fit in and be liked to keep friends.”

  “Exactly.” He pauses. “So, if you had six friends who were at the secret pool party you had at the school, how come only you are in detention with me?”

  “How did you know there were six other people?” I look over at him in shock. “And who told you about the pool party at all?”

  “Doesn’t really matter. Those don’t seem like real friends to me.”

  “First of all,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him, “I’ve known you for all of what? Two days?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Second of all, all of the people there weren’t my true friends—just Genevieve Porter. And even though it’s none of your business, I decided to take the blame because she’s already been in trouble this school year for trespassing and if she’d got caught again, she probably would’ve been expelled. She would’ve done the same for me, and she’s done plenty of things for me long before I ever met you.”

  “Things like what?”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” I lean forward and turn on the radio, switching it to a pop station before turning up the volume.

  He doesn’t talk to me for the rest of ride. When he pulls in front of my house, I unbuckle my seatbelt and nearly jump out of the car, but he grabs my hand.

  “I got sentenced to detention because I broke into the school the same night as you all did,” he said, his blue eyes on mine. “I was planning to do laps in the pool to clear my mind, but I saw you there. You were trying to help some passed out guy breathe...Was that your boyfriend?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  He looks relieved. “Anyway, when I saw the rest of your friends still swimming and drinking on the other side of the pool, I called 9-1-1 from the locker room phone.”

  My face pales. All this time, I could’ve sworn Genevieve told me that she was the one who called. She’d been so adamant that none of us call using our cell phones that I thought she slipped away to call while I tried to help Brynn.

  “And after that...” Jace is still looking at me and holding my hand. “I went to the main office and destroyed all the security footage since you guys failed to do it when you first got there. I think that’s the main reason I’m in detention.” He smiles. “I forgot to destroy the tape of me destroying the other tapes.”

  I stare at him in utter shock, my cheeks reddening with every second that passes. “If you’re expecting me to invite you inside or to sleep with you to say thank you, then I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

  He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I honestly hate that I didn’t meet you sooner, under different circumstance. I like your sense of humor.”

  “I wasn’t joking about the sex.”

  Still laughing, he finally lets my hand go. Then he gets out of the car and walks over to my side of the car, opening the door for me.

  He walks me up to my front door, and once I’ve turned the key, he clears his throat.

  “Thank you very much, Jace,” I say, looking up at him. “I appreciate the ride home, and the not so invisible help from you that night. I’ll find a way to pay you back. Want me to start by bringing more snacks to share with you during detention?”

  “I was thinking you could start by giving me your phone number.”

  I blush. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

  “You just said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Right, well...” I recite my number fast—so fast I’m sure he doesn’t catch it. Then I thank him for the ride again and go upstairs to my room.

  From the windows, I watch him return to his car and pull away, and I can’t help but feel like this is the exact type of moment that I should want to share with Genevieve. I’m sure that I should want to call and replay every single moment that just happened in excruciating detail, but I don’t.

  Instead, I flop onto my bed and pull open my diary. I pen a quick entry, and then I open my debate folder.

  At least she’s kept that promise to me all this time.

  As I’m writing down the list of this week’s current national cases, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from an unknown number.

  Unknown number: This is Jace. You should save my number permanently just in case you need it. (Are you allowed to talk to guys on the phone?)

  I immediately text back.

  Me: I can’t believe you actually understood how fast I was speaking...I’ll hold off on saving this permanently, though. (Of course, I’m allowed to talk to guys on the phone. I’m not twelve...Why?)

  Unknown number: I can’t believe you think I didn’t already have your phone number. I was just asking for it before putting it to use... (Pick up when I call you at eight.)

  Me: (Beg me to, and I’ll think about it.)

  Unknown number: (If I thought I had to**beg** you to, I wouldn’t bother you at all...)

  I stare at my screen for a full hour—thinking of all the things the girl characters said to the guy characters whenever they called during the summer soap operas. I try to think of a list of topics that we can talk about, just in case the line goes silent, but I never end up using it.

  He calls me right at eight, and I’m not sure how, but by the time we hang up, it’s time for us to get ready for another day of school.

  E.N.E.M.Y.

  N is for NEMESIS, AGAIN

  (It also stands for new friend, as in Jace is the last person I thought I would become my friend at Blue Harbor High ...)

  Courtney: Back Then

  FOR THE FOURTH SATURDAY IN a row, I’m sitting inside the school library watching heavy rains fall over Blue Harbor. Heavy winds are blowing through the oak trees that stretch down the town’s main lane, and the huge lake right across from the school looks as if it’s about to overflow onto the county bridge.

  There’s no one else in the school but me, Jace, and a few janitors. They’ve told us to “just stay put” at our usual table in the back as usual, and they haven’t checked on us since we arrived here this morning.

  Since we’ve spent last night talking on the phone until sunrise, Jace has his head down and his earbuds in. He’s told me to wake him up any time I want to finish our conversation, but since he brought me breakfast and picked me up for today’s detention session, I figure the least I can do is let him sleep.

  I’m still refusing to admit it since it’s only been a month, but I’m starting to really like everything about Jace Kennedy. Sure, he’s still cocky as hell and he’s definitely well aware of how attractive he is, but he’s been nothing but super nice to me. He insists on driving me home after detention—even asking my Dad for permission, he volunteers to bring me tea and coffee to school every day, and he always calls me for another never-ending conversation at night. Although we definitely want to do different things in life—a life in front of the Hollywood cameras for him, a life in the courtroom for me, we have a lot in common. He loves reading as much as I do, I can quote movies just as well as he can, and we both like to go for long walks around the greener side of Blue Harbor’s main lake.

  My phone suddenly buzzes with the usual Saturday morning text from Genevieve, and I pull it out of my pocket.

  GENEVIEVE: Hey Court! Here’s what your debate coach wrote on the whiteboard at your practice today. Would it kill the debate team to meet at nine on Saturdays instead of eight? Ugh.

  ME: Thanks a mil. And yeah, I think it would LOL.

  GENEVIEVE: I’m so sorry you’re in detention for me again. (I owe you the world) And before you ask, YES, I already went to the other bookstore and picked u
p that book you ordered.

  ME: Thank you, G.

  GENEVIEVE: Want me to ask your dad if you can come over and “study” with me tonight? Sam will be there **wink wink**

  ME: I don’t want to see Sam if I don’t have to again...I told you it wasn’t “fun” for me. He was really rough and I don’t like him like that.

  GENEVIEVE: Okay. No problem! I won’t bring him up again. Maybe just me and you then? I could use your help with Ethics 101.

  ME: The irony...LOL

  GENEVIEVE: What about ironing? I think autocorrect cut off your last message...

  I let out a breath and shake my head.

  ME: I said sure to just me and you.

  GENEVIEVE: Awesome! I’ll hit you up after I get done writing my English essays! TTYL

  I put my phone away and immediately get to work. Despite my punishment, my coach has been pretty understanding about my absences from practices. He still considers me one of the top members of the team, and he thinks I was born to be a lawyer. Even though he thinks I ask one too many questions from time to time.

  It takes me an hour to get through the list of topics Genevieve sent, but halfway through, I realize something.

  Ugh. She left off the last two topics again!

  Knowing there’s no chance in hell she remembers them, I send a text to my debate teammate, Sarah.

  Me: Hey. Can you tell me what the last two topics were on the board from this morning? My friend only sent me a picture of the top eight again.

  She texts me back immediately.

  Sarah: What are you talking about?

  I send her the picture Genevieve sent me, the faded picture of the whiteboard at the bookstore. In our coach’s handwriting are the top topics I’m supposed to study this weekend—minus the last two that are cut off in the shot.

  Seconds later, she texts me again.

  Sarah: Court, that was the whiteboard from like, the first Saturday you missed. She kept asking him to write a bunch of different lists because she claimed she was having trouble reading his handwriting. You want me to send you the real lists? (You’re like four weeks behind though...)

  Me: Yes, please.

  I feel a lump rising in my throat and stand up from the table. I slip between two bookshelves of classics and call Paper & Spine, the bookstore where Genevieve was supposed to pick up my book.

  The phone rings four times before a young, male voice comes over the line.

  “Paper & Spine,” he says, “How may I help you today?”

  “I’m calling about a special book order.”

  “Well, fair warning.” He doesn’t let me finish. “We can only hold those until the following Saturday afternoon, Miss. What can we order for you?”

  “I already ordered it. It’s a 1988 book called Twenty-One Things All Aspiring Lawyers Should Know, and it should be on hold under Courtney Ryan.”

  “Let me check on that.” He puts me on hold for a few minutes, and then he returns to the line. “Yep! It looks like we still have that one waiting for you, Miss Ryan. You have another hour and a half to pick it up before we have to place it on the shelves for anyone else to get it, though.”

  “Will I still get to use the fifty percent off discount if I get it another day?”

  “Unfortunately not, Miss Ryan. That’s the whole point of us being a specialty close-out shop, you know? I’ll hold it until we close today. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “No.” I wipe away a tear before it can fall. “Thank you very much.” I end the call and start to send Genevieve a text, to ask her why the hell she lied to me when she knew just how much I wanted that book, but there’s a message from her already.

  GENEVIEVE: If my parents call you today, tell them I was with you. I’m totally doing my English homework at Starbucks, but I doubt they’d believe me, so just tell them I was with you in the school library okay?

  I don’t answer. Instead, I walk back over to my table.

  “I thought you left me here by myself.” Jace smiles, but he stands up once he sees the look on my face. “Whoa. It looks like you’re about to cry. What’s wrong?”

  I don’t answer that. “You want to get out of here for a while?”

  “Only if we don’t have to come back,” he says. “I just saw all but one of the janitors leave.”

  “Okay.” I stack up my books, but he doesn’t let me carry them. He places them all into his backpack, and then he pulls me close to his side as we walk out of the library.

  When we make it to the front of the school, he tells me to “Wait here.” And before I can ask why, he rushes out to the parking lot and drives his pickup truck closer to the door so I don’t have to walk that far.

  Ever the gentleman, he still gets out and opens the passenger door for me.

  “So, where are you trying to go, fellow criminal?” he asks.

  “Paper & Spine. The bookstore on Baker Street.”

  He shoots me an ‘Are you serious?’ look. “You wanted to leave the library to go to the bookstore?”

  “Friends aren’t supposed to judge each other.”

  “They’re supposed to call each other out when they’re not making any goddamn sense, though.” He smiles. “I take it there’s a book on hold for you there or something?”

  I nod, grateful I don’t have to explain how this works to him. Genevieve (clearly) still doesn’t understand this at all.

  For the rest of the drive, the only sound between us is the rain pounding against the windshield. At every red light, he looks over at me and smiles, making me feel somewhat better about this rocky start of the day.

  When we make it to the bookstore, he insists on getting the book for me. He doesn’t let me out of the car, and he doesn’t even let me pay for it.

  “Here,” he hands me the white bag. “Where would you like to go next? Wait, let me guess. Another bookstore or a knitting class, maybe?”

  “No.” I playfully hit his arm. “How about a movie so I can pay you back for the book?”

  “I don’t fucking think so.”

  “Why not? You told me you want to be an actor, right? Shouldn’t you watch movies all the time to study your craft?”

  “I do watch movies all the time to study my craft.”

  “Okay...” I shrug, confused. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Courtney,” he says, glancing at my lips. “It’s torture enough being around you in broad daylight. I’m not putting myself through even more by being next to you in a dark ass room.”

  “Well...” I blush. “What would you prefer that we do today?”

  He’s quiet for several seconds, but then he leans over the seat and cups my face in his hands—pulling my face closer to his. Pressing his lips against mine, he kisses me slowly—slipping his tongue into my mouth and whispering words I can’t quite understand.

  I shut my eyes in utter awe as he kisses me in a way I’ve never been kissed before, as he runs his fingers through my hair and makes me lose all sense of time.

  Just when I start to kiss him back, he gently pulls away from me. His sea blue eyes are on mine, and there’s a smile on his lips.

  “Why are you stopping?” I ask. “Was I doing that bad of a job kissing you back?”

  “Not at all,” he says, running his fingers through my hair again. “But you’ve told me time and time again that you just want us to be friends, so I want to make sure we keep things that way until you change your mind.” He let me go and cranked the engine. “Even if you ever did, for the record, I want you to know that I do like you and I’d take things slow with you.”

  My jaw drops and I can’t get a single word to fall from my mouth.

  “For the rest of the day, how about we go to Kline’s since it’s raining?”

  “Okay.” I lean back in the seat as he drives, feeling him clasp my hand behind the gear shift.

  When we make it to Kline’s, the rain has slowed to a drizzle, but he still insists on letting me out closer to the door first and par
king the car second. We order the same sandwich—a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and take our seats near the back.

  As if our kiss never happened, he picks up where we left our conversation last night. The part where he tried to make me admit what everyone else in his life has already told him—that he looks like a sexier version of James Dean. (He does.) He’s halfway through his second list of reasons why he’s destined to be a bigger actor when I can’t help but reach across the table and take his hand.

  “I change my mind,” I say.

  “What?” He raises his eyebrow.

  “About us just being friends,” I say, the words rush out of my mouth. “I mean, I like you, too. I’m willing to be more than just your friend, but only if you meant what you said about taking things slow with me.”

  He smiles. “I did, Courtney.”

  “Okay.” I tap my fingers against the table. “So, can we finish the kiss from earlier or do we really have to sit here and pretend like that’s not what we’re both currently thinking about?”

  TEN

  Jace: Present Day

  SUBJECT: SEAT 2A & a rental car.

  Mr. Kennedy,

  I’m attaching a copy of your flight ticket and the receipt for the rental car you’ll be driving this weekend. (I am also attaching, for your reference, a copy of the employee sexual harassment conduct rules of our firm. Please see: How to handle unwanted kisses from a supervisor. Notice how that this should technically be reported to HR immediately.)

  I decided to change my seat and get my own rental car at the last minute.

  PS—Thank you for using up all the hot water again.

  See you at the airport later this morning,

  Courtney Ryan

  Walton & Associates

  SUBJECT: RE: SEAT 2A & a rental car.

  Miss Ryan,

  Thank you for the copies of the flight ticket and the rental car receipt.

  Thank you also for letting me know that you changed your seat (so I could change mine to sit next to you once again), and for getting your own rental car. I just canceled my car, so you’ll need to share. (Where is the clause about the “victim” kissing her aggressor back and not so—subtly rubbing his cock through his pants? Also, please point out the other clause where it discusses your pussy being soaking wet because I know damn well it was...I’m sure HR would want to know that as well)