Everything You Want

by Like, Macyn

  EVERYTHING YOU WANT

  By

  Macyn Like

  Everything You Want

  Copyright © 2013 by Macyn Like

  Cover Design by L. Hogan

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations by a reviewer in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 1

  Marissa

  There were a lot of places I would rather find myself on a Friday night than crouched in my bathtub with a frightened fifty-pound Basset Hound on my lap. My two cats were curled up behind the toilet, upon which my ancient radio sat blasting the local weather. I had gathered all the pillows from around my apartment and stuffed them in the bathtub with the dog and me, but I didn’t know why. It wouldn’t do any good.

  This past tornado season was seriously making me regret renting a top floor apartment. There were four units in the small building I lived in, and when I signed my contract there were two available, one on the upper floor and the one below. I chose the upper one for the small balcony off the living room, but at that moment, the balcony didn’t seem as appealing as the safety of the bathroom directly below.

  Of course, I thought I was past all of that. It was late August. Wasn’t tornado season supposed to be over in May or June? Even so, it normally would not have been a problem. Normally my neighbor, Betty, would have dragged me downstairs by now, but I hadn’t heard from her, which was strange because I was pretty positive she never left her apartment. Go figure the first time she would be away was during the storm of the century. Maybe she just forgot about me. I wasn’t risking hauling my cats and dog downstairs in this weather to find out.

  “We’re getting reports of a funnel cloud spotted in western Shelby County,” the weatherman on the radio announced.

  Western. Okay. I lived in the eastern part of the county. That gave me some time. Maybe it would fizzle out by the time it reached here. I began to sigh in relief, but was cut short when the weatherman added an impromptu, “heading northeast at forty miles per hour.”

  Crap. Thunder cracked outside and I squeezed my dog, Tulip, a little closer. I looked over at my cats, tangled together behind the toilet bowl. I clicked for them to join me, but it was a lost cause. They never got near the bathtub. Water or no water, they hated it.

  Another loud burst of thunder and the electricity went out. Great. I knew I should have replaced the batteries in the old radio. Now I wouldn’t even know when it was coming.

  All of a sudden I heard a pounding on my door. Marissa!” I heard Betty yell out. “Marissa!”

  Tulip let out a short bark as I tried to scoot out from underneath her. I rushed through the dark apartment to the door, flinging it open to find my seventy-five-year-old neighbor in a pale blue raincoat and fuzzy pink house shoes.

  “Marissa, what are you still doing up here?” she asked.

  “I thought you weren’t home,” I said.

  “I’m always home! I just fell asleep watching my soaps. I didn’t know it was supposed to get this bad. Come on, let’s go! Let’s go!”

  “Okay, just let me grab my cats.”

  I made my way back to the bathroom and plucked the two cats out from behind the toilet. When I walked outside, Betty was at the apartment next door, demanding that the guy follow us down, which was useless. He never came down during severe weather. He looked like one of those dark artistic types. I’d always thought he probably enjoyed the storms. Got the creative juices flowing or whatever. I scooted past them, smiling at him briefly as I hurried down the staircase in front of his door. I chuckled as I saw Betty grab his arm out of the corner of my eye. I betted he would be more easily persuaded to come down if it was apartment A, Aimee the Zumba instructor, demanding him to follow her instead of little old Betty.

  The sky had taken on an eerie greenish tint that made me feel a little queasy. I heard Tulip bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump behind me on the stairs as I ran down. I waited for Betty at the bottom by her door. The rain was blowing in sideways, soaking my animals and me, but with both cats struggling under my arms, I couldn’t manage to open the door.

  I looked up to see Betty pulling my neighbor guy down the stairs with her. I was anxious and drenched, but I couldn’t help but smile. Betty finally got her way.

  “Why are you just standing there?” she yelled when they reached the bottom.

  I nodded to the cats.

  Betty shook her head as she pushed past me to open the door. She wasn’t a fan of my cats, or cats in general. Neither was her tiny dog, Paris, who began yipping wildly at my feet as I stepped in. Neighbor Guy smiled at me and took my gray tabby cat, George from under my left arm. Tulip followed me inside, glued to my right calf.

  Betty already had flashlights set up in the living room and kitchen. A small radio on the kitchen table informed us that a tornado had been spotted near a street about ten miles from us. Neighbor Guy and George took a seat on the couch. I sat my other cat, Oatmeal, down beside them and scooped up Paris, who was barking his poor little head off. I stroked his tiny back until he quieted, and then sat on the worn floral print couch, at the opposite end from Neighbor Guy. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t see much with only one small flashlight on the coffee table, but I could see that he was petting George and whispering something in his small gray ear.

  Neighbor Guy had long, dark brown hair that hung an inch or so past his shoulders, which he usually wore twisted up in a messy ponytail/bun thing at the nape of his neck. A few damp strands had fallen out and were clinging to his right cheek. He was wearing a long sleeved gray thermal shirt, covering up arms I had always suspected were covered in tattoos. His dark jeans were faded and loose, and even in dim light I could tell that his black sneakers were all but falling apart. I’d never made eye contact with him before. He made me nervous. I’d be kidding myself if I said it was because of the long hair and the (suspected) tattoos. No, it was because underneath all of that, he was actually a fairly decent looking guy. And when I said fairly decent, I meant probably the most attractive man I had ever seen. He was tall, lean, and his tight shirts were evidence of the fact that he was more than well built under all those long sleeves. Even though I had never looked directly into his eyes, I knew they were a beautiful sky blue, framed by lashes that were too long, thick and pretty to belong to a guy.

  It was strange that we had never spoken, since he was such an integral part of my life these days. The walls in the apartment building were paper
thin, and I could hear him almost all of the time. Showering in the morning, listening to music after work, hanging out with his friends on the weekend, watching TV in the middle of the night. It would get on most people’s nerves, but not mine. I found it was comforting, in an odd way, just knowing he was there. It made me feel less alone.

  What could I say? I hadn’t made many friends since I left Oxford in May. All of my college friends had either stayed there or moved home, not that I’d had that many of them, anyway. I’d made at least one good acquaintance at the bank where I worked, but we never hung out outside of work. My apartment was generally quiet, to say the least. So I didn’t mind his noise.

  “Paris!” Betty called.

  “I’ve got him,” I said, jumping off the couch and walking into the kitchen where she sat at the small table. I handed over the dog and listened as the weatherman encouraged people on our block to take cover.

  “Everybody into the bathroom,” Betty commanded, walking out into the living room. Neighbor Guy was already following her, my cat still in his arms.

  I could hear hail start to pound on the windows. “What about Aimee?” I asked.

  “She’s not home. I already checked,” Betty said.

  I scooped Oatmeal off the couch and followed them into the small, old bathroom, which smelled like it had recently been doused in bleach, Tulip still at my heels. Betty had brought the radio and a flashlight into the bathroom and sat them on the counter beside the sink. I heard the weatherman mention a street just a few blocks away from ours. I squeezed the cat tighter to my chest. For all my years of living in the South, I’d never actually been in a tornado. There had been lots of close calls, but never one to go right over my head.

  The sirens began wailing outside, and I felt myself start to shake. Neighbor Guy helped Betty slowly climb into the bathtub with Paris under her arm. I helped Tulip into the tub with her, and then picked Oatmeal back up and gave her a reassuring squeeze as I leaned against the counter.

  “Betty, have you ever done this before?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, and failing miserably.

  “A few times, but it’s been so long ago.”

  I swallowed. It seemed to me that the sirens were getting louder, even though I knew they weren’t. I felt a hand softly touch my waist, and Neighbor Guy gently pulled me against his chest. I let myself lean on him, and buried my head in Oatmeal’s fur.

  A couple of minutes later, we heard a sound like a train roaring in the distance.

  “Here she comes, kids!” Betty shouted over the noise.

  Neighbor Guy pulled me into the bathtub with Betty and I squatted down next to Tulip. Betty pushed a puffy, lacy comforter over our heads and Neighbor Guy sat George down next to Oatmeal in my lap. I was shaking uncontrollably as the roaring sound drew closer and Neighbor Guy put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, a cat under each arm, and wrapped my legs around Tulip. Just as the sound became deafening I felt Neighbor Guy’s other arm wrap around my waist and he buried his head in my hair.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Chapter 2

  Kieran

  It was over. I was pretty sure it had missed us, but none of us had moved. It was quiet, except for the weatherman on the radio, announcing warnings for the next county over.

  She was still in my arms.

  I’d wanted to get close to her for months. I must have imagined holding her in my arms a thousand times. There was never a tornado in the picture, but now that it had come and gone, and everyone was okay, I’d take it.

  The older woman was the first to speak. “I think it’s okay to get out now.” She pulled the blanket off our heads and sat her little dog on the ground before pulling herself up.

  I removed my head from the girl’s soft, apple scented hair and stood, pulling her up with me. She sat the cats beside the little dog and then bent down to help the Basset Hound out. I kept my hand on the small of her back. Now that I was finally touching her, I didn’t think I could stop.

  We followed the old woman outside. It was still raining, but nothing like it had been before. The sign for our apartment building was lying in the middle of the road. The roof was missing several shingles, but that was it. The apartment building across the street got it worse. Part of the roof was ripped off on the left side and a few windows were blown out. Debris littered the parking lot, but the cars looked okay, mostly. I could see a few dings from the hail, but they were all intact. Other people were beginning to come out to inspect the damage. I kept my hand lightly on her back as we stood there, silently taking it all in.

  When the rain started to pick back up, we went back inside.

  “That was a close one, kids,” the old woman said, practically collapsing into one of the ancient kitchen chairs.

  The beautiful girl from next door nodded her head and slumped onto the couch. I sat down carefully beside her. Her gray cat jumped up in my lap. I guessed he had taken a liking to me during the storm. He purred softly as I stroked his back.

  “Are you alright?” the old woman asked the girl beside me.

  “I’m okay, just a little shaken up. How are you doing, Betty?”

  “Fine, now that it’s over. And how are you…?” the older woman looked over to me.

  “Kieran,” I filled in for her.

  “Kieran. Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Kieran. Would have been nicer under different circumstances, of course.” She chuckled. “I’m Betty Cantrell. And this little one is Marissa.”

  Marissa. Finally, I knew her name.

  That had seemed strange to me for a while now. I felt like I knew so much about her, but I didn’t know her name. I knew her work schedule. I knew she watched a lot of TV, fairly loudly. I suspected that she was a pretty good cook from the smells that sometimes wafted into my apartment in the evenings. I knew that she was somewhat of a loner. A girl came to see her once and stayed all weekend, but that’s the only company I’d ever noticed.

  I wasn’t stalking her or anything. When you live in such close quarters to somebody, it’s hard not to notice things about her, even if you don’t want to. Which was not the case with me. I wanted to know everything.

  Ever since that first day I saw her on the stairs, I couldn’t get her out of my head, and it wasn’t only because she was insanely hot. I was pretty sure she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. That wasn’t it, though. There was just something about her, something magnetic. I was drawn to her in a way that I couldn’t explain. Not long after that, I realized that I could hear almost every move she made, the walls were so thin. So, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d listen to her moving around in her apartment, and imagine what she might be doing. It always put me right to sleep. At first, I chalked it up to loneliness, but I knew that wasn’t it. I wasn’t the type of guy who minded being alone. In fact, I wanted to be alone. Still, I liked her being there. Maybe I was just being a creep. I didn’t know, but having her around soothed me. And the fantasies were just a nice bonus.

  Fantasizing was one thing, though. In real life, it was better to keep her at a distance, which I had been successful at doing, up until today.

  “I’d make some tea, but I suppose the electricity will still be out for awhile. I’ve still got some of that cake you brought over last night, Marissa. Do you want some?” Betty asked.

  Marissa nodded, hopping up and walking into the kitchen. I followed. Betty was already unwrapping a pink-frosted sheet cake with shiny red sprinkles all over the top. Marissa opened a cabinet and pulled out three small plates. “Did you want some?” she asked me. “It’s strawberry.”

  I nodded and sat at the table. I could hear the radio still going in the bathroom. The weatherman was saying something about power lines down in the east side of town. Luckily, I hadn’t seen anything like that when we were outside.

  Betty sat a large piece of pink cake in front of me. “Would you like some milk?” she asked, handing me a fork.

  “Sure.”

  Mari
ssa sat down in the chair beside me. She immediately dug into her cake, taking a large bite. She blushed when she saw me watching her.

  “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “I’m a stress eater.”

  She didn’t look like a stress eater. Either that, or she didn’t get stressed very often.

  I chuckled at her and took a bite of my own piece, and was surprised to find that I actually liked it. I wasn’t big on sweets, but the cake was good. I polished off the large piece in no time.

  Betty brought the radio back in the kitchen and we sat and listened to the news reports for a while. There was a lot of damage, but so far no injuries had been reported. None of us talked, just listened.

  “I think I’m going to head back upstairs,” I said when I noticed it growing dark outside. “Thank you for inviting me to brave the storm with you.”

  Betty smiled at me. “Anytime.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to go, too. Are you going to be okay, Betty? Do you need me to stay with you?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine. I’ve got Paris. We’ll be just dandy. Head on home, get some rest.”

  I smiled. That was what I’d been hoping for. Despite my better judgment, I wanted just a few more seconds alone with her.

  I picked up her gray cat and she gathered up the tan one. The dog followed us out the door and up the stairs.

  “Just a second,” she said when we reached the top. She opened her door and put her animals inside. “Be right back, guys,” she said.

  I leaned on the rail in front of her door and she joined me. A cool breeze blew and I could smell the apple scent from her hair in the wind.

  “So…that was intense,” she began.

  “Yeah.” I gave a short nod.

  “I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” she said, looking away.

  “Helping you?” I asked, confused.

  “Yeah, helping me, you know, feel…safe.” She bit her lip and looked down.

  My heart soared, and I couldn’t stop my lips from breaking out in a slow smile.

  “I didn’t really do anything,” I said, but I knew what she meant. Only she had it backwards. She was the one who had comforted me.