by Roni Loren
Andi snorted and threw a couch pillow at Eliza. The pillow hit the edge of her desk and flopped to the floor. “Pervert.”
“Sometimes,” she said with a laugh. “But really, don’t talk yourself out of being open to the possibility. Vibrator technology is great, but there’s nothing quite like being skin to skin with someone, naked and sweaty and frantic for each other. That shit is rejuvenating.”
Andi squeezed the back of her neck, trying to work out the tension there. “I don’t even think it’s a possibility. Even if he were interested, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m like an inexperienced teen trapped in a grown-up’s body.”
“Probably another reason why this guy appeals to you. He sounds like the type who would take more control in bed. And you know more than you think. You know what makes you feel good. If you can show him what you like, you’re all set. Making sure the guy has a good time is the easy part.”
Andi snorted. “Nothing about this is easy.”
Eliza’s expression turned empathetic. “I know, honey. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a badass. And you’re fucking brilliant. I know that there’s no way to guarantee one hundred percent safety out in the world, but I truly believe that your gut is worthy of your trust. It will tell you if this guy is bad news. So maybe see if you can be friends with him. Feel him out. Then, if you’re still picturing him naked, make a move. See what happens.”
Andi couldn’t picture herself making a move, but she also didn’t see her attraction abating anytime soon either. “I will get the chance to get to know him better. He’s a horror virgin, so he’s agreed to watch some movies with me.”
A smile brightened Eliza’s face. “Oh, that’s great. Like watching movies at your place?”
“Pretty much.”
“Andi, you sneaky vixen. Getting the hot guy to agree to scary movies. Couch cuddling is almost inevitable. I’m so proud of you!”
Andi laughed. “It’s not some grand master plan. I just feel it’s my duty to introduce him to the best genre in cinema. Plus, he recently had a bad breakup and seems a little lonely.”
Eliza nodded. “Right. He’s the lonely one.”
Andi rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m not lonely. I have tons of friends.”
“You do,” she agreed. But in that therapist way. Like she was saying ten other things, too. “Either way, I’m proud of you. Inviting a guy over to your place to hang out—whether anything romantic happens or not—is a big step for you.”
“Thanks.” Andi glanced at the clock. “I better get going. Your next client is probably already here. They pay better than I do.”
“I don’t know. This coffee is like magic.” She stood and smoothed her blouse. “Are you going to be okay tonight? Do you want to stay over at my place?”
“Part of me wants to say yes because that would be so much easier, but I’m afraid if I do that, I won’t ever want to sleep at home again. I need to get this first night out of the way.” Andi stood and rolled her shoulders, trying to work the tension out. “Hill is getting the locks changed and is looking into getting an alarm installed, so there should be extra protection. Plus, I can’t imagine whoever broke in would want to come back the next night.”
Eliza nodded. “Good. I’m glad you’ll have a few extra layers of protection to help you feel safe. Plus, you know, a hot firefighter neighbor.”
Andi laughed. “And there’s that.”
Eliza came around to the other side of the desk to hug Andi. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too. Thanks for the chat,” she said, releasing her friend.
“Of course.” She wiggled a finger at Andi. “And keep me posted on Operation Hot Neighbor.”
Operation Hot Neighbor. Sounded like a bad porn movie from the eighties. “Will do.”
Chapter Nine
Hill was eating lunch at the same place he’d been going every nonworking Friday for years. They served thin fried catfish at Lola-Ann’s on Fridays, and it was the best fried fish in the state. He used to make a version of it at the firehouse, but he never had the energy to make it for himself, so this was a treat. He could vaguely hear the phones ringing for takeout and the general bustle of the restaurant but otherwise was totally focused on enjoying his food and reading the words in front of him.
On the way to the restaurant, he’d ducked into The Dog-Eared Page, the little independent bookstore on the corner. Usually if he was in the mood to read, he went for travel or food memoirs, but today he’d found himself wandering past those aisles, through the large romance novel section, and finally to the corner in the back where Stephen King had an entire bookcase dedicated to him. But Hill wasn’t looking for a King novel. He scanned through the K’s and finally found what he’d been hunting for: A. L. Kohl.
He picked up the two books the store had and bought them without reading the descriptions. Now, at his table in the corner, most of his lunch consumed, he was ten chapters into Andi’s book, Thirsty, a story about an ostracized teen girl who gets humiliated by a viral video calling her thirsty, which apparently meant desperate. The girl is devastated, but the night she plans to end her life, someone sends her a mysterious computer program that lets her hack into her classmates’ phones and webcams to see their secrets. She starts using the secrets against them, but strange things are starting to happen to the people she’s watching.
Hill suspected some supernatural shit was about to go down. He picked up his iced tea, his eyes glued to the page, and sipped. But the sound of his name made him jolt, almost spilling his drink into his lap. “Shit.”
He set his glass down, annoyed that he’d startled like a damn cat, and turned toward the sound. His jaw tightened at the sight.
Christina was standing there in uniform, arms crossed. “I figured I’d find you here. I’ve been trying to call you.”
And he’d been trying to ignore that. “What do you want, Chris?”
Without asking, she took the spot across from him. She glanced at the novel in his hand and snorted. “What in God’s name are you reading?”
He tore off a piece of his napkin and tucked it between the book’s pages to save his spot. Despite purchasing the book at a place called The Dog-Eared Page, he was staunchly anti-dog-earing. He set the novel down. “You need something?”
She picked up the book and eyed it, her brows arching. “High school horror? Since when do you read this stuff?” She flipped it over to read the back. “Or is this thinly veiled porn? Are there lots of big-boobed cheerleaders at this haunted high school?”
His jaw tightened, and he reached out to take the book from her. “It’s not porn. Andi wrote it.”
Christina’s gaze flicked to the name on the cover. “Ah, the neighbor girl who’s a horror writer.”
Hill sniffed at her insistence on calling Andi a girl. “A multipublished author.”
“Well, that explains why she can’t admit that she didn’t latch her door all the way. Maybe she thinks a ghost did it.” Chris wiggled her fingers and made a spooky ghost sound.
“Chris,” he warned, his patience thin. He was not in the mood to deal with his ex right now—or ever really.
“So, you dating her or something?” she asked.
“Not sure how that’s your business,” he said, a nonanswer if ever there was one.
“It’s not, but I’m nosy. And if you are, I think that’s…good. She seemed…colorful.”
His fist curled against his thigh. “Why are you here?”
Chris sighed and ran a hand over her braid, a nervous gesture she’d had since he’d known her. “Yeah, fine. God forbid we try to have a civil conversation. I’ll get to the point. I just wanted to let you know that Josh and I are getting married.”
Hill’s stomach dipped, but he kept his expression smooth. “Okay. Am I supposed to say congratulations?”
She rubbed the sp
ot between her eyebrows like she was the adult trying to deal with a petulant child. “You don’t have to say anything. I only wanted you to hear this from me instead of one of the guys at the firehouse.” She took a breath and lowered her hand, something shifting in her gaze. “I also wanted to tell you that I’m pregnant.”
If the first confession had pushed him back a step, that one knocked him flat on his ass. When he and Christina had gotten engaged, he’d lain in bed that night next to her, imagining their life-movie montage. One where he pictured them getting a house together, babies being born, him running around with his kids. The kind of family life he hadn’t experienced as a child. A happiness he’d never experienced in his whole life.
He’d let go of Christina when he’d found out she was cheating with Josh—anger making the breakup quick and sharp—but now those other visions came rushing back. The realization that he’d not only lost her in that moment, but he’d lost that movie montage, that future. But she hadn’t. She was going to do it with someone else. He was going to have to watch her have kids with someone else.
Christina was staring at him, not gloating, not smirking. Instead, she looked…sad for him. “I just wanted you to know.”
He cleared his throat and tried to cover whatever emotion he’d revealed. The pity in her voice made him want to break things. He grabbed his straw and stabbed the ice in his cup. “Well, that’s…good. I mean, good for you. I know you’ve always wanted kids.”
She let out a breath and looked down. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
She glanced up, her eyes a little shiny. “I hate this.”
“What?”
She flicked her hand between them. “This. How things are between us.”
He scoffed. “Chris, I don’t know what you expect. You and my best friend screwed behind my back. While I was still recovering from a catastrophic injury. The minute I wasn’t Captain America anymore, you jumped ship. It doesn’t leave a guy with great feelings.”
She rolled her lips together and shook her head. “I know. I’m so sorry for how things happened. In no world is that okay. I know you’ll never believe me, but what happened with Josh had nothing to do with your injury and everything to do with how I felt when I started spending time with him. It made me realize that what I felt for you was affection and friendship but not that turn-your-world-inside-out kind of love. If we had gotten married, it wouldn’t have lasted. We didn’t have that thing, that thing that gets couples through all the hard stuff. In the end, this was best for both of us.”
The words stung like vinegar over a cut. Maybe she hadn’t loved him, but he’d loved her. “Right. So you’re the heroine in this story? Saving us from our doomed fate by cheating on me? Got it. Where’s that medal of honor? Let’s schedule the award ceremony.”
Her jaw flexed. “I’m trying to be honest with you, but I guess you don’t want to hear it. You want to be the victim.” She stood. “You know, I hope one day you realize I’m right about how we would’ve turned out and stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not a good look, Dawson.”
He kept his expression mild. “Are we done here?”
She crossed her arms. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
He smirked. “I look forward to my wedding invitation. I’m assuming you’ll toast me for bringing you two together.”
“God, you’re such a dick sometimes.” She grabbed her phone off the table and strode out.
“One of my finest qualities,” he muttered as she left.
When he was alone again, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted by the exchange. He didn’t want to fight with Chris. He didn’t want to share any emotion with her anymore. But every time he saw her, it reminded him of who he was now, of the life he’d lost. She was moving on. Marriage. A baby. She was heading toward the future he thought would be his.
And what the fuck was he moving toward?
Another night at home alone with a stack of cookbooks and no one to cook for.
He couldn’t face that solitude tonight. He glanced at Andi’s book, and without thinking too hard about it, he grabbed his phone. It’d been almost a week since the night he’d slept over. He’d gotten an alarm and new locks installed. He’d checked on her a few times, but they’d both been busy and hadn’t talked much. She’d said to let him know when he was ready for a movie. He’d responded vaguely.
He was tired of being vague.
He found her name in his contacts.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Werewolf, what are you doing awake during daylight hours?”
Just the sound of her upbeat voice smoothed some of the jagged edges his conversation with Christina had caused. “Shh. I’m in my human form during the day. Don’t tell anyone my secret.”
She laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. What’s up?”
He picked up his fork and stabbed at his napkin, steeling himself for a no. “I was wondering if you wanted to make tonight our inaugural movie night? I know it’s last minute and if you have plans or work to—”
“I’m in,” she said, cutting him off.
“Yeah?” His shoulders relaxed and his lips curved.
“Absolutely. That sounds perfect actually. I’ve edited two podcast episodes today and spent last night wrestling with writer’s block. I could use a break.” She made a sound like she was covering a yawn. “You have any special requests for the first movie? Ghosts? Slasher? Monsters? Trashy? Sophisticated?”
“I’m a true horror virgin, so maybe let’s start out with something you consider foundational. I might not appreciate a later movie as much if I haven’t seen what came before.”
“Ooh, foundational,” she said, enthusiasm in her voice. “Is it nerdy that you saying that totally makes me want to build a lesson plan so I can school you?”
An image of Andi with glasses, a ruler, and a stern teacher expression flashed through his brain. Blood rushed south. He cleared his throat, trying to push away the pervy thoughts. “I’m fully prepared to be schooled.”
“Yay!” she said with glee.
He closed his eyes and absorbed the exclamation points in her voice. Her unchecked enthusiasm was like inhaling a warm spring breeze after a long winter. He loved her utter lack of self-consciousness about how she was feeling. After what he went through as a kid, he’d spent his life honing his stoicism. When enough kids bait you with Hey, freak, I heard your dad’s a drughead, you learn not to react to anything. To see someone so…out there like Andi was a novelty.
“I’ve got lots of movies I can pick from,” she went on. “Why don’t you come over around seven?”
They had plans. He already felt buoyed. “Tell me what I can bring.”
“An open mind and your drink of choice.” Something squeaked on her end, and he pictured her rocking in her desk chair. “Do you like pad thai? I can pick up some takeout on my way home, my treat.”
“How about I make some and bring it over?”
“Really? You know how to make that?” she asked, sounding impressed.
“Yeah, I used to make it sometimes at the firehouse. It’s quick if you’ve got the ingredients. Are you pro-tofu or anti-tofu? Because I can make it vegetarian or with chicken.”
“Vegetarian sounds great. Thanks.” She paused. “And I’m glad I’m not a betting woman because I would’ve lost this bet.”
He picked up his unused fork and twirled it between his fingers. “What bet?”
“I would’ve bet the farm that you were going to back out on our movie project. So, this is a nice surprise.”
He had almost backed out. He didn’t trust himself around Andi. She made him want things he’d taken off his list of options. But right now, he didn’t want to think that hard about it. He’d been overthinking his whole life since the day of the accident—maybe even
before that. Tonight, he wanted a break from it all. Good movie. Good food. And a pretty woman who made him smile.
“I’m glad the invitation still stands,” he said.
“I’ll double-check it’s not a full moon,” she teased. “Don’t want to get bitten.”
He laughed, but the words conjured images he definitely didn’t need to be picturing sitting in a restaurant. His mouth on Andi’s creamy smooth skin. His teeth grazing her neck. Her red-glossed lips wrapped around his… He shoved the images from his brain, searching for something to say. “Waxing crescent tonight. You’re safe.”
“Phew,” she said with a dramatic flourish. “Wait, should I be concerned that you know the moon stage? Who knows that off the top of their head?”
“Andi.”
“Werewolves, that’s who,” she declared.
He chuckled. “I was only guessing. I have no idea what the moon phase is tonight.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t think I’m not going to google it now.” He heard typing on her end. “All right, we’re good. It’s a new moon—the moon of new beginnings—so it’s perfect for our inaugural movie night.”
New beginnings. That sounded nice, even if he’d learned new beginnings were impossible. Life didn’t really give you redos. The past didn’t get undone. Like when he’d moved in with his aunt and uncle, his life had improved dramatically, but living in a new place with a new family didn’t erase the marks his old life had left on him. “Sounds great. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I can’t wait to eat food that doesn’t come from a takeout container or a can,” Andi said, sounding genuinely excited. “Later, neighbor.”
Andi’s enthusiasm was catching. Hill hung up the phone with a dumb grin on his face and turned back to the book, forgetting all about the exchange with Christina.
On his way out of the restaurant, he texted Ramsey.
Hill: I’m having movie night with the neighbor.
Ramsey responded within seconds with a GIF of Will Ferrell yelling “Awesome!” and punching boxes in the grocery aisle. Followed by:
