Brendan

by Jennifer Domenico

  “You make too much noise in the morning.”

  “Oh my god. What are you a vampire or something? I know you don’t work at home. I see you leave in the morning. What’s the problem?”

  "On the weekends. I like to sleep in, and you're over here hammering and vacuuming and playing your stupid music."

  I roll my eyes. “What is an acceptable time of day for you?”

  “Nine.”

  “Nine!” I shake my head. “Fine, your highness. I’ll wait until nine.”

  “Good.”

  “What do I get from you?”

  “Get?”

  “Yeah. I compromised for you. Now you compromise for me.”

  “We’re not dating.”

  I guffaw. “Clearly. I can only imagine how much fun that would be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, say it, Harper.”

  “Don’t use my name like we’re friends. We’re not.”

  “Cleary. I can only imagine how much fun that would be.”

  “Ooh, you’re so annoying.”

  He shoots me a sarcastic smile. “Taste of your own medicine.”

  “Goodbye.”

  I start to shut the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Don’t you want to know my compromise for you?”

  “Oh, please tell me.” I roll my eyes. “I’m dying to know.”

  “I won’t bang on your wall as long as the music stops by eight pm.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Your opinion. Good thing that doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Whatever.” I shut the door, leaning against it and listening to his footsteps and the sound of his door. He’s infuriating! He can be as hot as he wants to be but with that cocky, snobby, uptight personality, he can suck it. He can’t possibly have friends or a girlfriend with his terrible disposition. His own mother probably just tolerates him. He’s a freaking Scrooge! Ugh!

  After that rude interruption, I walk back to the kitchen and pour another cup of coffee now that mine has cooled. I just don't get how someone can be so hostile to someone they don't even know over something like mail and Christmas music. Over everything really. How miserable it must be to wake up every day pissed off at the world. He’s going to love it when I have my Christmas party.

  As I sip my coffee, I imagine his life for a minute. I see him leave for work and runs, but never anything that looks social. He’s always home at night. Didn’t go anywhere last night. No company. My instinct about him was right. He hates people.

  My phone ringing shakes me from my thoughts. I see Elise’s name on the screen.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Hey. Want to go shopping today?”

  “For?”

  Elise laughs. “For? Christmas dresses, of course. We’re dressing up right?”

  I laugh softly. “Right. Yeah, that sounds fun. What time?”

  “I’ll be there in an hour. We’ll hit the mall as soon as it opens.”

  “Cool.”

  “Anymore hot neighbor sightings?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s a dick, Elise. He’s so mean. Every interaction. He’s just rude.”

  “Really? That sucks. Wonder why?”

  “Don’t know. He said he hates Christmas music. I think he hates the whole holiday.”

  She laughs. "This is so funny. You love Christmas more than any person I know, and you moved next door to the Grinch."

  “I actually nicknamed him Scrooge.”

  "Ooh, I like that. You're Tiny Tim, and he's Scrooge." We both laugh. “Maybe you’ll convert him. Your joy for the season is pretty contagious.”

  “The man needs something. He’s always angry.”

  “Here I was hoping for a love match.”

  “Yeah, no. We’re not going to be anything but neighbors.”

  “His loss, sister. See you in an hour?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  After a while, I hear my sister’s car in the drive, so I grab my coat and purse and head out to greet her. As I lock my door, Scrooge opens his and steps out looking surprisingly casual in jeans, sneakers, a gray sweater, and a jacket. He looks at me, holding my gaze, and I realize his eyes match the cloudy gray-blue sky above us. He’s so handsome I almost forget what a complete asshat he is. I refuse to speak first as we both stare each other down. Finally, he just walks away without a word. I watch as he leaves while I walk to my sister’s car.

  “What was that about?” she asks as I get in.

  “Beats me. He just stared at me without saying anything.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah. It would be a lot easier to hate him if he wasn’t so unbelievable looking.”

  “Looks aren’t everything.”

  “True. He’s proof.”

  "Forget him. Shopping and girl time awaits. Screw Mr. Scrooge!"

  I laugh and high five my sister. “I can get on board with that.”

  Chapter Three: Brendan

  Driving down the street, I'm annoyed at myself. I can't stop thinking of the beautiful brunette next door. She infuriates me, but at the same time, I crave interaction with her. Why I continue to be such an ass, I'm not really sure. If I believe my therapist, it's my defense mechanism kicking in. I can't be hurt or left if I never let anyone in. He might be right.

  What doesn’t make sense to me is why I keep seeking her out. Just now, standing there gazing into caramel colored eyes, I couldn't think of anything to say. I want to tell her that I'm not always a dick, but really I am. She would have to be the cheeriest Christmas loving person on the planet. All she does is watch Christmas movies, sing Christmas songs, and decorate. Maybe this is how normal people feel about the holiday, and I'm the outlier. Christmas has been nothing but a nightmare for so long I can't imagine ever welcoming the season.

  ~~~

  “Merry Christmas, Brendan!”

  I run into her waiting arms. “Merry Christmas, Mommy.”

  After a tight squeeze, she hands me a big box. “Open it.”

  Ripping the paper, I throw it out of my way, until I get to the prize inside. It’s the big red truck I wanted! “The truck! Thank you, Mommy!”

  “You deserve it, my little man.” She coughs, turning away. She always tries to hide it.

  “Are you okay?”

  She cups my chin. “Don’t worry about mommy. I’ll be fine.”

  My eyes shoot open. The dreams always hit this time of year. My last Christmas before everything fell apart. She wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

  I climb out of bed and make my way to the kitchen for water. Glancing at the clock, I rub my forehead. It’s nearly midnight. After filling my cup, I shuffle to the living room and sit on the couch in the dark. This is what I do. Stare into the darkness waiting for something to change. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again. If I’m even capable of it. Would I even recognize it?

  ~~~

  The next morning as I leave for work, my eyes gravitate to her door. We seem to leave at the same time. When it opens, I take a deep breath and try not to be a dick. Her eyes meet mine, and for a brief second there's a smile, but she quickly hides it. She's carrying a bag that looks a little heavy. I should offer to help. That would be good. That would be somewhat redeeming maybe after the way I treated her last time.

  “Can I get that for you?”

  Her eyes open wide. “What?”

  “Help you with your bag. It looks heavy.”

  She just stares at me for a minute. “I got it. It’s not heavy.”

  “Great.” I wonder if she knows how stunning she is. She has the thickest hair that falls in waves over her shoulders. It looks so soft. I can’t see what she’s wearing under the coat, but I wish I could. She’s got a great figure. “Okay, well, um, have a good day.”

  Her eyebrow raises. "Sure." I walk down the first step but pause when I hear her. “Hey?”

  “Yes?”

  She reaches into her tote and pulls out a green bag.
"Here." I take the bag and peer inside to see all kinds of cookies and other treats. When I look up again, she offers a slight smile. “I always make too much. They’re yours if you want them.”

  I can't describe the feeling that hits me at this moment, but it isn't good. It scares me actually. I step back abruptly. "I don't eat sugar." I watch as her face falls. "But um, I'll take them to work and share them. They look great."

  “It wouldn’t kill you to eat one sugar cookie. You run enough to burn it off.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  As she walks past me, she glances over her shoulder and smiles. God, she’s fucking beautiful. I should tell her that. I should tell her what’s wrong with me, but I know that I won’t. I can’t. No one ever understands. They say they do, but they don’t. Then they just feel sorry for me, and I can’t stand it. I couldn’t deal with looking into her eyes and seeing pity staring back. I’d rather have her hate than her pity.

  I look down at the bag again. I don’t eat sugar? Really. Total dick move again. I need to make a choice. Either figure out how to talk to her like a normal human being, or figure out how to forget her.

  Chapter Four: Harper

  On Saturday night, I stand in front of my mirror, surveying my appearance. I went all out tonight- professional makeup application, nails, and hair. The dress I found is gorgeous and festive, dripping in red sequins and chiffon. I feel like a holiday Barbie. This is what the holidays are for— family, friends, great food, and dressing up. I love it.

  After I walk downstairs, I glance at the clock. Almost seven. Summoning the energy to deal with the scrooge next door, I take a deep breath and walk out the front door, taking the few steps required to get to his. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He was borderline friendly when I saw him last. I know he’s home and based on the short time I’ve lived here so far, he’s always home on the weekend. So weird for a hot young guy, but clearly the man hates people.

  I rap softly on his door, waiting a moment before he swings it open. My breath catches slightly, annoying the shit out of me, from his appearance. His normally composed hair is loose and wavy around his chiseled features. He’s shirtless, and my eyes greedily admire his muscular physique, covered surprisingly in colorful tattoos. His sweatpants cling to his hips, dipping low enough to reveal that insane V in-shape men have. He’s holding a towel, drying his hands.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I just wanted to let you know I’m having a few people over tonight. There will be noise, talking, and most likely Christmas music. It won’t end by eight, but we will try to be aware of your delicate sensibilities.”

  Surprisingly, a smile pulls at his lips. A regular one, not his sarcastic sneer I usually get. “You think you’re clever don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes search mine for a moment before very obviously scanning my entire body, down then slowly back up, lingering over my cleavage, and then settling back at my eyes. The move makes me feel like I’m naked, but I can’t lie and say I don’t like that he clearly finds me attractive. At least right now.

  “You dress up for house parties?”

  "It's my party, and I enjoy dressing up for the holidays."

  He nods, still studying my face. “Have fun.”

  I blink rapidly. “That’s it? No rules or demands?”

  “It is Saturday. Even I can loosen up a bit at times.”

  I smile. “Well, I know you won’t, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to. We have a lot of food, and you can see what I’ve done with the place. I mean, mingling with me is probably beneath you, but since I have manners, I’ll extend an invite.”

  “You are not beneath me, Harper. Not at all.” The genuineness of his tone surprises me. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your evening with my bah humbug, but thank you.”

  “Why do you hate Christmas?”

  His eyes widen briefly before he shifts them away. "It's a long story. Enjoy your evening, Harper."

  "Thanks." I start to walk away but pause. "Uh." I laugh softly. "I don't even know your name."

  He smiles. “Brendan. Brendan King.”

  I return the smile. “Well, Brendan King, have a nice night. The offer stands. I’ll even be nice to you in front of my friends and family.”

  “That might be worth it just for that.”

  “Believe it or not I’m actually a really nice person.”

  Brendan leans on his door frame. “I have no trouble believing that. I wish I could say the same.”

  “If you want to be nice, all you have to do is do it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good.” I start to leave, but he calls me.

  “Harper?” I turn around. “The sugar cookies were really good.”

  “You ate one?”

  He chuckles. “I ate three.”

  I can’t help but smile. “And you’re still alive.”

  “I am.”

  “See you later, Brendan.”

  “Yeah.”

  I enter my house, slightly perplexed. That interaction was almost pleasant. No hostile sneering and demanding rules. Weird. I push Brendan King from my mind as my first guests start arriving. It’s time to have some holiday fun.

  Chapter Five: Brendan

  Sitting in my dark living room, I listen to the festivities next door as I slam back another glass of whiskey. I don’t know how many I’ve had, but it hasn’t been enough yet to drown out the pain. Harper’s sweet voice seeps through the walls as she laughs, sings, and chats with her guests. I can imagine her gliding around her living room in that dress— that fucking dress that I wanted to tear off her body. I know I could put some clothes on and go over there. I’m invited. But what would I say to her? What has she told her friends and family about her asshole neighbor? Besides, I don’t want to be with a houseful of people. I just want to be with her.

  I rub my forehead confused by my own thoughts. Why is she getting to me? She’s so wrong for me. She’s…happy. I would just ruin her. Christmas every year would be a battle. Eventually she’d hate me. Every woman I date does. I’m not made for romance. I’m not meant to be in love. Loneliness suits me. I’m used to being miserable, but I’d hate myself even more if I brought Harper down with me. The best thing for Harper is for me to stay the fuck away from her.

  I put the glass down and climb the stairs to go to bed. As I lie staring at the ceiling, I let my thoughts drift and imagine what making love to her would feel like. My eyes close as my lips slide down the length of her body. She smiles, gazing up at me with the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, her silky hair splayed around her. My eyes soak in every feature, quickly replaced by my lips, my tongue, my mouth. Gripping her ample breasts, I massage them, as my tongue dances with hers. I move down the length of her body, kissing every spot until I get to the best part. As I dip down between her legs, she claws my shoulders and twists her fingers through my hair, writhing and moaning my name. She whispers, "make love to me, Brendan," so I enter her, closing my eyes from the sheer pleasure of being inside of her. As her breathing intensifies, I move in deeper, until we climax together.

  I open my eyes. Fuck.

  ~~~

  Monday evening, as I pull into my driveway, my eyes annoyingly shift to Harper's house hoping for a glimpse of the stunning beauty. As much as I want to, I can't stop thinking about her. Her curves, her smile, those eyes. I want to run my hands through her silky hair. Actually, I want to run my hands over everything of hers. If only she wasn't my extreme opposite and I wasn't a stubborn prick. I avoided interaction yesterday, but here I am again, hoping to see her. She’s nowhere to be seen sadly.

  After putting the car in park, I step out and begin the walk up the sidewalk when I hear a faint female voice. I look around, then up when I hear my name.

  “Hi.” Harper waves at me from the roof.

  “What the hell are you doing up there?”
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  She lifts a string of Christmas lights. “Decorating. The snow finally melted. Bummer I couldn’t do it before my party, but better late than never. Do you want some on your side?”

  “Harper, that is not safe. Get down right now.”

  She crosses her arms. “You’re not my dad, Brendan.”

  “No, I’m not, but I’m not interested in seeing you splattered on the sidewalk.”

  “Overreacting. I’ll be fine. Now, I have plenty of lights. Do you want some on your side? It will be more balanced that way.”

  “No, I do not.” Shaking my head, I continue my walk but freeze when Harper screams. I look up in time to see her sliding toward me. I rush to catch her, barely making it as she falls into my arms, and we both tumble to the ground. After the shock passes, I sit up to inspect her. "Are you okay?" Her eyes are closed. "Harper? Talk to me." I want to shake her, but refrain in case she's seriously hurt. I dig in my pocket for my phone keeping her as still as possible. With trembling hands, I dial 911 and feel for a pulse, exhaling with relief when I find one.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “My neighbor, she fell from the roof. She doesn’t seem conscious.” Harper’s eyes start to flutter as I speak. “She’s coming to I think, but we need an ambulance.”

  “Is she bleeding?”

  I scan her body quickly. “I don’t think so, but she fell pretty hard. I caught her, but I don’t know how hurt she is.”

  “Someone is on the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up and brush her hair from her face. "Harper? Can you hear me?" Her eyes flutter open but close again. “Come on, open your eyes.” She shifts slightly and moans. “Don’t move. Help is coming.”

  I sit on the cold ground holding her and trying to keep her comfortable until the paramedics arrive. As they approach, I explain what happened and how she’s reacting. One of the paramedics kneels and opens her eyelids looking in each eye while the other takes her blood pressure.

  “Is she okay?”

  The paramedic looks up at me. “She’s stable, her pulse is strong and steady, but her eye movements are abnormal. Not sure if she had a seizure. Let’s get her to the hospital.”