The Boy Next Door

by Jennifer Sucevic

“It wasn’t a problem. I wanted to be here to help celebrate.” His gaze flickers to mine. “Sometimes it’s nice to get away from campus, even if it’s just for a couple of hours.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Her gaze touches upon me. “Both of you.” She releases his hand before waving us to the back of the house. “Why don’t we move this to the kitchen while we wait for your father to return?”

  With that decision made, we travel through the immense foyer before entering an arched gallery. Artwork hangs on the walls. Small brass lights illuminate the paintings. This place resembles a museum rather than someone’s personal home. As tempted as I am to stop and admire some of the art, I keep it moving. My gaze flickers to a sprawling living room that lies beyond the gallery. A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows line the far wall, showcasing an expansive backyard. The furniture is a mix of antique collectibles and modern pieces. There are thick colorful rugs that add texture and warmth to the space.

  Twenty seconds later, we arrive at the kitchen. Like the other rooms I’ve glimpsed, it’s spacious. There are long stretches of white marble, stainless steel appliances, and gorgeous crystal lighting. Bowls of fruit and small potted topiaries are strategically placed on the countertops. It looks like something you would find in a glossy magazine spread.

  “What can I get for you to drink?” Jenna asks, interrupting the whirl of my thoughts.

  “Water is fine. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” She pauses at the massive island in the middle of the room. “You’re more than welcome to have a glass of wine. We have a well-stocked cellar downstairs.”

  I shake my head. Something tells me that it would be prudent to keep my wits about me this evening. Already, I feel myself falling hard, and it’s a scary prospect. All I want to do is pump the brakes. Colton has promised that we would take this relationship slowly. But I’m no longer sure that’s possible, everything seems to be happening at lightning speed.

  “I’ll have a water, as well,” Colton says.

  Jenna moves to the mini-fridge built into the side of the island and pulls out two bottles of water. I grab the one that is set in front of me before twisting off the cap and taking a sip. Again, I’m afforded another opportunity to observe Colton’s interaction with his stepmother. There’s an easy banter between them. It’s obvious they have a strong connection as she teases him with sparkling eyes. I’ve known Colton for more than a decade, and this is probably the first time I’ve seen him this relaxed. It only makes me realize that even though we spent six months together, he never fully lowered his guard. A pang of sadness blooms inside me at that knowledge.

  I’m yanked from those thoughts by the sound of the backdoor opening from down the hall before an older man walks into the kitchen carrying two white bags with the Marco’s logo stamped across them. He sets the containers on the counter and immediately leans over to kiss Jenna. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  With a smile, he greets Colton before pulling him in for a hug. It’s one of those manly types where they clap each other on the back before quickly stepping away. His friendly gaze falls to me. Before I can stretch out my hand for him to shake, he swallows me up in a giant bear hug. Warren Montgomery is a big, burly man. He and his son are similar in height, but Warren is broader in the chest and shoulders. Kind of like a bull. His dark hair and beard have silvered over the years. His eyes, much like his wife’s, twinkle with kindness.

  “Hello, Alyssa. It’s nice to meet you. Jenna and I are glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Thank you for extending an invitation,” I tell him.

  The older man’s eyes flicker to Colton. “It’s not often my son brings home friends from college.”

  “Dad,” Colton grumbles as if embarrassed.

  Unbothered by the rebuke, he continues, “I heard that you grew up around here, and the two of you attended high school together.” He unpacks a few of the covered containers before spreading them out on the massive island.

  “Yes, we did,” I say with a nod.

  “I’ve already set the table in the dining room, Warren. Let’s take everything in there,” Jenna cuts in before the remaining food can be unloaded.

  We each grab a couple of containers and follow her into the two-story dining room off the kitchen. When all of the dishes have been laid out, we settle on our respective chairs. The table is sleek and black, stretching at least thirty feet in length. There is enough seating for twenty people. Since it’s just the four of us, delicate ivory and cerulean-colored China has been set at one end. Warren takes his place at the head of the table. Jenna settles on one side as Colton and I move opposite of her. Everything is family-style, and we all dig in, helping ourselves to the entrees.

  His parents pepper me with surface-level questions throughout the meal. They tease Colton every chance they get. They talk about the upcoming game next weekend, and how they’re both looking forward to cheering him on. If I weren’t so attuned to Colton’s presence, I would have missed the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw.

  Jenna turns to me and says, “Hopefully, we’ll see you there.”

  I’ve avoided attending football games this season. I’ve been trying to break free from the hold Colton has over me, and sitting in the stands for three hours, watching him on the field, certainly won’t help reach that objective.

  “Maybe,” I say lightly.

  “You know,” Colton clears his throat before shifting on his seat, “if you guys are busy, there’s no need for you to make the trip. It’s cool.”

  Jenna’s brows draw together as she scoffs, “Are you kidding? We haven’t been able to attend any this season.” She glances at her husband. “We’ve missed watching you play. Now that your father isn’t traveling so much, we’ll be able to make the rest of your home games.”

  A look of dismay flashes across his expression. It’s there and gone before I can decipher exactly what it means. Even though I get the feeling Colton wants to argue, he jerks his head into a tight nod. “Great.”

  As the conversation turns to other topics, I’m aware of the thick tension radiating off Colton. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with him. Since I’ve returned from my study abroad program, I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance. If people are talking about Wildcats football or the blond wide receiver, I promptly tune them out. Only now do I wonder if there’s a problem.

  I don’t realize that I’ve reached under the table until my fingers wrap around his, and he turns his head, gaze locking on mine. As much as I don’t want to feel the connection strengthen between us, that’s exactly what happens. I’m powerless to stop it from occurring. And maybe there’s a part of me that is weary of fighting against something that feels inevitable.

  After dinner, I help clear the table and wash the dishes. Jenna chats about her job as an elementary school teacher and the upcoming trip they have planned after Christmas.

  “So, you and Colton? She watches me from beneath a thick fringe of lashes before picking up a plate and drying it. “You’ve known each other for a while?”

  It’s a question...but then again, not really.

  “Yes.” I’m unsure what to say or how much of our past to reveal. That’s up to Colton. And I don’t want to lead her in the wrong direction. Or myself, for that matter. Although part of me wonders if it’s much too late for that.

  With a thoughtful expression, she nods. “Colton doesn’t bring many people home. In fact,” she falls silent, almost as if she’s searching her brain, “you’re the first since high school.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. Even though Colton has a lot of friends and girls are constantly buzzing around him like drunken bees, they’re all surface-level acquaintances. None, with the exception of Beck, have managed to drill beneath the surface.

  When I remain silent, she continues, “He doesn’t allow a lot of people into his life.” Her lips quirk at the corners. “You must be special.”

  I shake my head, unwilling to let th
at little seed get planted in my psyche. “We’re just friends.” I force the words from my lips not only for her benefit but mine as well. Allowing myself to get caught up in the moment would be a mistake. I’ve been burned before. I’m unwilling to chance it again.

  “Hmm. That’s too bad. I think you would be perfect for him.”

  Once upon a time, I’d thought the same thing.

  Now I know better.

  As I finish up with the last dish, someone clears their throat from the arched entryway. I nearly bobble the plate before setting it carefully on the drying rack as my gaze slams into Colton’s blue one.

  His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the doorframe. “Do you mind if I steal Alyssa away?”

  Jenna picks up the delicate China from the wooden drying rack. “Of course not. We’ll have dessert in about thirty minutes. Sound good?”

  “Yup.” This time, when he stretches out his hand, I don’t bother to fight it. There are so many emotions warring inside me. I gravitate across the kitchen before taking hold of his larger one. As I do, a spark of energy tingles through my fingertips. The chemistry between us is like a living, breathing entity. It always has been. As much as I’ve tried to fight it, it’s not a battle I will ever win.

  With a gentle tug, he pulls me through the gallery and foyer before we climb the sweeping staircase to the second floor. My mind buzzes on sensation overload. Without trying, Colton rouses all the dormant emotions locked inside of me. As much as I want to keep him at a safe distance, it’s impossible to remain indifferent.

  Once on the second-floor landing, I’m given a bird’s eye view of the entryway. “Your house is beautiful.”

  “Thanks. My dad built it after he and Jenna got married.”

  “How long have they been together?” I ask, genuinely curious about Colton’s family.

  His brow furrows in contemplation. “Let’s see, they got married when I was seven years old. So, they’ve been together for fourteen years. The trip they’re taking at Christmas is to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary.”

  I nod, processing that tidbit of information. “She’s really nice.” It’s obvious that Colton and his stepmother have a genuinely close relationship.

  “Jenna is amazing.”

  Our shoes click against the glossy hardwood that stretches throughout the hallway. Family photographs dot the walls. I’m tempted to stop and study them. This is the first time that I feel like I’ve been given a rare peek into who the real Colton Montgomery is. I’m loath to push too hard or do anything that will shut down his inclination to share more of himself with me.

  When he opens the last door on the right, I realize with a glance that he’s taken me to his bedroom. The walls are painted navy, and there is a king-size bed dominating the space. A sleek dresser and desk match the dark wood of the bed frame. A plush velvet sofa is arranged on the opposite side of the room, along with a matching chair and antique coffee table, making an intimate spot to relax and chat. Next to the sitting area is a wall of built-in cabinetry. A mini-fridge is tucked beneath the counter and a fancy stainless steel coffee maker takes precedence on the sleek marble countertop.

  Across the room are two arched doorways. I imagine one is a walk-in closet, and the other is a private en suite. The place resembles a tiny apartment. The walls are dotted with football memorabilia and more framed photographs. Some are in color, while others are in black and white. If Colton weren’t standing next to me, tracking my every movement, I’d take my time and stroll around the space, studying it with more care.

  Unsure what to do, I separate myself from him and settle on the comfy couch. Instead of following me to the sitting area, he wanders to the desk before lounging against it. His easy stance belies the tension that crackles in the air between us.

  I shift, unnervingly aware that his gaze is fastened on me. “Your parents are nice. I like them.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” There’s a pause as remorse flickers across his expression. “I should have introduced you sooner.”

  When I shrug, unwilling to dwell on our past, he shoves away from the desk, closing the distance between us before settling on the sofa. I gulp. It felt so much safer when he was standing on the other side of the room. He swivels his body toward me as one muscular arm stretches across the back of the cushion. His proximity has the tempo of my heart picking up speed. When I remain still, his fingers strum the gentle slope of my shoulder. Even though I’m wearing a light sweater, I feel the caress down to the tips of my toes. The heat of them singes my flesh, and a bevy of tingles erupt inside me before careening down my spine. No matter what has transpired between us, I can’t imagine there ever being a time when my body doesn’t react to him in such a manner. I might not want it, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not something that can be controlled.

  My tongue darts out to moisten my parched lips as I search my mind for something to say. Something that will get us back on even terrain. The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Earlier at dinner, when Jenna mentioned attending your game, you didn’t seem happy about it.”

  The sexual energy that had been ratcheting up between us dissipates, and for that, I’m grateful. His muscles stiffen. Even though he glances away, his fingers stay connected to my shoulder. I can’t deny that part of me is thankful for killing the mood. I’m not ready for this to progress into something more.

  When he remains silent, I begin to wonder if he’ll bother with a response. Maybe it’s better that way. If Colton can’t open up and talk to me about his feelings, then what’s the point of us going down this road again?

  I didn’t intentionally set this up to be a test, but that’s what it’s turned out to be.

  As I open my mouth to suggest we head downstairs, he drags his other hand through his blond hair as his gaze returns to mine. “I don’t want them attending because Coach benched me.”

  No matter what I thought he might say, that wasn’t it. I’ve watched Colton on the football field all through high school and the first two years of college. He’s amazing. Solid. He could play in the NFL if that’s what he wanted.

  All of the emotion swirling through me dissolves as I turn toward him, my hand settling on his thigh. “What happened? Were you injured?”

  It’s obvious from the pinched expression that settles on his face that he’s reluctant to discuss the situation.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. To be honest, I’m not sure what the problem is,” he mutters. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to pull it together. And I really don’t want Jenna and my dad to make the trip to Wesley when it’s doubtful I’ll see much of the field. They’ll ask questions. And at the moment, I don’t have any answers.”

  Sympathy floods through me as I squeeze his thigh. “I’m sorry.” Even though football and dance aren’t the same, I know what it’s like not to perform to the best of your ability. To know you can do better but, for whatever reason, aren’t able to tease it out. It’s both frustrating and scary because you don’t know if it’s a phase that will pass with enough time, or you’ve actually lost your edge. Once you meander down the road of self-doubt, it can be a real mindfuck. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I don’t think so.” He shakes his head as his gaze darts to mine. “It’s something I need to figure out for myself.”

  When I’ve struggled in the past, I was lucky enough to have Mia by my side. Does Colton have anyone to unload on? Somehow, I can’t imagine him and Beck sitting around the apartment, doing a deep delve into their feelings. I find myself saying, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the offer. It means more than you know.” There’s a pause before he releases a breath. “I keep telling myself that it’s a slump and it’ll pass, but so far, that hasn’t turned out to be the case.”

  As I rub his thigh with long comforting strokes, his gaze drops to my hand. Our muscles tense before I hesitantly remove it and clear
my throat, shifting away and fiddling with the hem of my shorts. My gaze bounces around the room, looking everywhere but at him. I notice a couple of photos with Colton, Jenna, and Warren. One where they’re skiing in Colorado. Another with them posing in swimsuits on a tropical beach. My gaze settles on a framed picture from high school graduation before shifting to an eight-by-ten taken with Beck. The two boys are wearing their high school football uniforms. Their arms are thrown around each other’s shoulders as they beam at the camera.

  He talks about Warren and Jenna, but he’s never mentioned his mother. I’ve heard the whispered rumors that swirled through the hallways of our high school, but I have no idea where the truth lies. When we were together, I was too afraid to bring her up. As curious as I am, the question sits perched on my tongue, but still...I’m unable to release it into the atmosphere.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  My teeth sink into my lower lip as I shrug. The words are so close to bursting free, but I’m afraid to push for more information. I’m fearful that he’ll shut down, and this little bit of intimacy we’re sharing will vanish in the blink of an eye, never to reappear again.

  With a slight tilt to his head, he narrows his eyes. “Come on, I can tell there’s something on your mind. Out with it already.”

  Even though we’re not together and haven’t been for a while, Colton is still able to easily read me. It’s both disconcerting and reassuring at the same time.

  “There are pictures of Jenna and Warren, but none of your mother.” Hastily, I tack on, “You never talk about her.”

  My breath gets clogged in my throat when his expression darkens. Too late do I realize that my question has crossed an invisible line.

  “No,” he mumbles, “I don’t.” His lips curve into a frown as his forehead creases.

  The moment stretches uncomfortably between us as he remains mute.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Don’t be.”

  In one swift motion, he reaches over and plucks me off the couch before depositing me on his lap so that I’m straddling his thighs.