by Like, Macyn
“No, you did. So, thank you.” She turned to face me and smiled. Then she walked away.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. It didn’t matter. She was already inside.
And just like that, my suspicions were confirmed. If I spent enough time around this girl, I could fall for her. I would fall for her. And that was why I needed to stay away. She was too dangerous. One look in the mirror would remind me of why.
Chapter 3
Marissa
I had never been so glad to get back to work. Of course, the storm was all anyone could talk about, but still. I wasn’t alone.
I spent the rest of the weekend terrified of a repeat performance. To distract myself I had baked three-dozen chocolate chip cookies and watched Lifetime movie after Lifetime movie. I had thought about going next door about a hundred times, but I didn’t. I thought it would be staggeringly awkward, seeing as I had clung to him, a person I’d never spoken to in my life, all through the storm, like a scared little girl. But I had been scared, and he’d started it. It was special circumstances. So maybe it wouldn’t be too weird. Nevertheless, I couldn’t muster up enough courage to go over there.
My coworker, Greta, and I went out for lunch together, as usual. A few of the restaurants in town had been shut down due to the storm, but all in all, the damage was far less extensive than I expected. Lucky Greta had been out of town with her fiancé, gone to spend the weekend with his parents. Greta was the only friend I’d made since moving here in May, besides Betty. We never really hung out outside of work, though. She was always too busy with her fiancé, and their friends.
“So it actually went by your apartment?” Greta asked.
“Over it. It didn’t actually touch down until later,” I explained, taking another bite of my sandwich.
“That’s crazy. I would have been freaking out. Were you alone?”
“No, I was downstairs in my neighbor, Betty’s, apartment. You know, the older lady I told you about. My next door neighbor guy was there, also.”
“Next door neighbor guy?” Her eyebrows lifted.
“Yeah, his name is Kieran. He lives in the other upstairs apartment.”
“Is he cute? How come I’ve never heard of him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really know him. He’s quiet. Shy, maybe? Anyway, we’d never talked before. I didn’t even know his name until that night.”
“You’ve lived next door to him since May and you didn’t even know his name?”
“Do you know all of your neighbor’s names?” I asked, raising a brow.
“No, but I live in a huge complex, not a dinky little building with only four units. And yes, I know the names of the people on either side of me.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve lived there for two years.”
“So what? I knew their names within two days. You just need to be more outgoing, Marissa. Or he does. One of you.”
I laughed and took a sip of my sweet tea.
“Hey, you never answered my first question,” Greta said.
“Which one was that?”
“The important one. Is he cute?”
Yes. Yes. A million times yes. “I don’t know. I guess maybe in a dangerous kind of way, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Um, yes. That’s the best kind. So tell me, what’s so dangerous about him?”
“I don’t really know. Just a vibe I get.”
“How’s his hair?”
“Longish, dark.”
“Good, good. Piercings?”
“None that I can see.”
“Is he tatted up?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I’ve never really seen his arms. He always keeps them covered up.”
“Then what makes you think he is?”
I shrugged. “He just looks like the type. Besides, why else would he keep them covered all the time?”
“Wait, are you telling me he’s wearing long sleeves all the time? In this heat? Has he got, like, an aversion to the sun or something?”
“I don’t know, maybe. He is pretty pale.”
Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, maybe he’s a vampire! That would be so sexy if he was a vampire.”
“How would that be sexy? That would be terrifying. Besides, no, he’s not a vampire.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen him in daylight, for one.”
“Some of them can go out in daylight now, right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I saw him drinking coffee outside his apartment once. I’m pretty sure they don’t do that.”
“How do you know it was coffee?”
“Oh, gross, Greta! It was coffee! I could smell it.”
“Okay, fine. So I’m failing to see what’s so dangerous about him. Is he, like, super cut or something? Does he drive a motorcycle? Come on, you’ve gotta give me something.”
“Well, I can tell he’s in great shape, but I wouldn’t say he’s ripped or anything. And no motorcycle. I think he drives a Saturn. I told you, it’s just a vibe I get.”
Greta rolled her eyes. “Whatever. He doesn’t sound very dangerous to me, but he does sound cute enough to be worthwhile. You should drop in on him sometime,” she said, returning her attention to her salad.
“I don’t think so. Wouldn’t that be weird? I don’t really know him,” I said.
“Marissa, how do you think you get to know somebody? You know him well enough to hang out with him for a few hours.”
I sighed. “Greta.”
“Hey, you’re the one that needs a guy. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“I don’t need a guy. I mean, it would be nice, but whatever. Besides, I just don’t think he’s my type.”
“Who is your type? Camden Lodge?” She said his name like she was disgusted just to be forming the syllables and have it come out of her mouth.
I felt my cheeks instantly start to burn. I hadn’t exactly told her about my work crush, but it was kind of obvious. I got a little flustered when he came around.
Greta made a face. “Gross. I wouldn’t touch him a with a ten foot pole.”
“Gross? Camden? Are we talking about the same person?”
“I know he’s hot, and a charmer, for sure. I felt the same way as you when I first started working at the bank, but give it time. I’ve watched him for over two years now. I’m telling you, he’s a player if I ever saw one.”
I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t seen any evidence of that. All I saw was a friendly, witty, gorgeous guy, who was definitely my type. “Well, it’s not like I’m in love with him or anything. It’s just nice to have something to look at while I work.”
Greta looked at her watch. “Oh, shoot. We’ve got to run.” She sucked down the rest of her Diet Coke and stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder. I walked over to the soda fountains and refilled my sweet tea. I met her at the door.
“I know this is the South, but addicted much?” She tilted her head towards my drink.
“What? They have good tea here.”
“Yeah, right. Every restaurant in town has good tea. You must drink a gallon of that stuff a day.”
“And you drink a gallon of Diet Coke.”
“I do not. I have one at lunch and one in the afternoon.”
“Whatever. More like five in the afternoon.” I nudged her shoulder as we walked down the street back towards the bank.
“Only when it gets stressful.”
“Greta, we’re tellers at, like, the smallest bank in town. It is never stressful.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m not as patient as you. When someone is in my face screaming at me, I want to scream back. And if I didn’t need this job so badly, I would.”
“They’re just customers. Don’t let it get to you.”
She mumbled something under her breath as we reached the bank’s entrance. I walked back behind the counter and took my position next to her.
When I graduated in May with my finance degree, I decided to move to Memp
his because I thought it would be easier to find a job. I was wrong. I must’ve applied for fifty positions, but hadn’t ever gotten farther than the second round of interviews. It always came down to the fact that I had no experience. But how was I supposed to gain any experience if no one would hire me? So I took a job as a teller at a small bank. I’d worked as a teller part-time during my junior and senior years at college, so I knew it was something that came fairly easily to me. I also thought that at the very least I might be able to move up the ranks there, if I stayed long enough. I hadn’t even gotten an interview anywhere else in over a month. It wasn’t like my job was that bad, or that I hated it or anything. It was fine, and it paid the bills. I had just hoped to be doing more at this point in my life. I wanted an office, or at least my own desk. I wanted to be able to buy a new car, be able afford a bigger place for my pets and me, and make some headway with my student loans. I wanted to use my degree. All through college, I had a plan. I thought it would be so easy, especially in a big city. I didn’t account for all the other more qualified people that would be applying for all the jobs I wanted.
I looked across the lobby. Camden was sitting at his desk, going over some paperwork with a customer. I smiled. This job had at least one good thing going for it.
A customer stepped into my line, blocking my view of Camden and I got back to work. I could hear the teller on my right flirting like mad with her male customer and it took everything I had not to gag. My coworker, Teena, thought she was the best thing to ever happen to the men of the earth. If a relatively good looking man stepped into her line (and they always did, because even I had to admit, she was very attractive) she would flirt like her life depended on it. And the sick part was, the men always ate it up. Even with their wives or girlfriends standing right next to them. She did it with all the male employees, too, even in front of Antonia, the bank president. Teena had no shame. All of the men loved her here. Hardly any of the women did. I think she preferred it that way.
I was always friendly with her. I had no reason not to be. She’d never done anything to me (besides flirt with Camden incessantly). It just got on my nerves. I mean, have some respect for yourself. Save all that seduction for when it counts, you know? I don’t know. Maybe I was a little jealous. It’s not like I’d had much male attention since I’d broken up with my last and only boyfriend, Jeremiah, after graduation. He moved back home to Alabama, and a long distance thing just didn’t seem right for us. Besides, our relationship had always lacked that passion that I was led to believe some relationships had. Truth be told, Jeremiah and I just weren’t going anywhere. I wasn’t that broken up about it.
After work, I drove back home to my quiet apartment. When I first moved to Memphis, my stepsister, Shayla, suggested that I go to a shelter and adopt a cat. She said that my apartment would seem less lonely when I got home after work if there was a little furry friend to greet me. I, of course, ended up with two cats and a dog. I had originally picked out Oatmeal (named for the color of her fur, I was told), when I was told that she and George came as a pair. I figured that couldn’t hurt and I agreed to take them both. Then, as I was filling out the paperwork for the cats, they brought Tulip, the Basset Hound, in. It was love at first sight. The way she looked at me, I could tell she needed me. I don’t get looked at that way very often. I left the shelter with George, Oatmeal, and Tulip in tow. Three pets for a one-bedroom apartment. Shayla was right, though. They were the best friends I had made so far.
The cats circled my legs and Tulip wagged her tail and nudged at my knees with her cold, wet nose. After everyone had been sufficiently greeted, I popped a Lean Cuisine in the microwave and flipped on the TV. I had the TV on constantly when I was home. Even though I loved my animals, sometimes I needed a little human interaction, and when I couldn’t get it, I faked it with the TV. Seeing the people on screen and hearing their voices made me feel less alone.
I poured myself a glass of sweet tea from the giant pitcher in my fridge and retrieved my meal from the microwave. I curled up on the couch with Tulip leaning against my thigh and George and Oatmeal at my feet.
After dinner I flipped through the new Us Weekly that had come in the mail. I longed to call Shayla, but I knew she would still be at work. She worked as an assistant store manager in a clothing store and she closed most nights. Sometimes I wished I’d just moved back home after graduation. At least then I’d have Shayla. But I didn’t belong there. As lonely as this little apartment was, it already felt more like home than my stepfather’s house ever did.
I sighed and put my magazine away. I went to the bathroom and retrieved a bottle of pink nail polish off the counter. I put a towel down and painted my toenails in the living room floor. I heard a soft beat begin in the apartment next door. I smiled. I couldn’t tell what song it was, but I could guess. He usually listened to the same band on repeat during the weeknights. I painted the last toe and nodded my head to the beat.
Chapter 4
Kieran
It was only lunchtime, and already it had been a long day. It was the middle of the week and finally my students had stopped obsessing about the storm. I still couldn’t get them to focus on algebra, but at least they were a little calmer.
I pulled a chicken salad sandwich and an apple out of the mini fridge behind my desk. I was starving. I’d accidentally hit the snooze button on my alarm one too many times and I’d had to skip breakfast.
My parents only lived about a hundred or so miles away from me, so when my mom heard that the tornado passed through my neighborhood, she hauled my dad to Memphis with her to make sure I was okay, despite me telling her over and over again on the phone that I was, and when she came, she brought a huge bowl of chicken salad with her. I can’t say I was disappointed. I loved her chicken salad, and now I’d be eating it for at least a week.
There was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I called out. I hoped it wasn’t a student. Sometimes they tried to sit in here and eat lunch with me. I didn’t really mind it, but I was worried the rest of the faculty would think it was weird. That, and it was always kind of awkward. I wanted to be a friend to my students, but I didn’t want to be friends with my students. I wanted to be someone that they felt like they could talk to, someone they could rely on. I didn’t want them to call me on the weekends to come party with them.
The door opened. It was the chemistry teacher from across the hall, Emery Appleby. He was pretty much my only friend at work. All the other teachers kind of avoided me. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the hair, because I was wearing long sleeves in August, or the fact that I was about twenty years younger than most of them.
“Hey, man,” Emery said as he sat his plastic lunch tray down on the student desk in front of mine.
“What’s up?” I said, taking a large bite of my sandwich.
Emery sighed. “Is it three-thirty yet?”
“Having one of those days, too?” I smiled.
“I gave a pop quiz today. So far it hasn’t gone well.” He grimaced.
“Yeah, that’s why I don’t give those the second week of class. How’s Rosie?” I asked, referring to his wife.
“Good. How’s…uh, sorry. I forgot her name,” he said, sheepishly.
“If you’re referring to Ilana, then that’s over. It’s been over.”
“Ilana. That’s it. What happened?”
“Nothing. I just stopped seeing her. It’s been about a week since I’ve heard from her,” I said. I took the last bite of my sandwich and threw the empty plastic bag in the trash.
“You never keep ‘em long, do you?” he asked.
I shrugged. My dating life wasn’t something I cared to talk about. It was fairly uneventful, as far as I was concerned. I took a bite of my apple and thought of Marissa’s apple-scented hair, and I wanted to touch it again.
As if he had read my mind, Emery asked, “Still hung up on that girl next door?”
I smiled. “More than ever. Her name’s Marissa, b
y the way.”
“You got a name? Finally.”
“Yeah. We met during the storm, actually.”
“That’s cool. Have you seen her since then?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I got her number or anything.”
“You don’t need her number. She lives next door. Just go over there.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to freak her out.”
“Why would that freak her out? Does she not like socializing or something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not. She never really has anyone over.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have any friends,” he said, taking a bite of his fish stick.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t imagine that. Not a girl like her.”
“Just because she’s hot doesn’t mean she has a lot of friends. Look at me. I’m totally hot and I basically only talk to you and Rosie’s friends’ husbands.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I laughed. I liked Emery, but he wasn’t what I’d classify as a good-looking guy, and he knew it.
“You should definitely talk to her, though. You’ve been interested in her for a while now. You owe it to yourself to find out if she’s everything you’ve made her out to be in your head.”
I frowned and took another bite of my apple. Truth be told, I really didn’t want to know. It was safer to keep her at a distance. I could dream about her, and never be hurt, never be disappointed. Never get myself involved in something that I really didn’t want to be involved in.
Emery, reading my mind again, smiled softly and went back to his fish sticks.
A few minutes later the bell rang and Emery groaned. I threw away my apple core and wiped the crumbs off my desk. I heard Emery suck in a deep breath as he slid out of his chair and picked up his empty tray. “Quiz number five. Let’s do this!” he said on his way out the door. I shook my head and smiled as he pumped a fist up in the air.
The rest of the day dragged on much like the first half. It was the middle of the second week of school and my students were already pining for the weekend, and so was I. I’d spent most of last weekend (between tornadoes, parental visits, and writing out lesson plans) working on some sketches. I wasn’t a serious artist or anything, it was just this hobby I got into one summer during high school to help pass the time while school was out, and I didn’t do it very often, but I had found myself feeling particularly inspired…
