The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

  And that’s far from who I am.

  My phone buzzes and I know Sixteen is demanding more answers, as is Sierra, if the look on her face is anything to go by.

  But before Sierra, Sixteen deserves more answers.

  “Hang on a second, okay? I’ll give you the whole story but first.” I point to the phone and she nods, giving me the stink eye first then moves down the bar to help a customer.

  Sixteen: Still waiting for answers!

  Me: Here’s the deal. After the first person texted me, I told her immediately that she had the wrong number. Then the messages continued and it pissed me off that this guy wouldn’t stop using my number but I also felt so bad for the women because he’d totally screwed them over.

  Me: Pun not intended there.

  Me: Also didn’t mean to imply anything by saying I felt bad for the women. It’s just how I felt.

  Me: I’m trying not to dig myself into a hole here.

  16: Too late.

  I wince and then my phone starts ringing, 16 lighting up on the screen.

  “Shit.”

  I glance over to see Sierra not paying me attention anymore so I stand up to get her attention, letting her know that I’m taking a phone call outside but I’ll be back. I quickly put my coat on as I walk to the door.

  “Hello?” I step outside into the cool night air and blow out a breath, the steam billowing around me.

  “You were talking in circles and I’m a little annoyed.”

  Her voice is light and sweet and it makes me even more annoyed that whoever this guy is won’t stop messing with these women.

  I wince at the irritation in her voice. “Sorry.”

  “You mentioned that. Can you please explain? Only because I’m staring at this jerk right now as he’s schmoozing some girl and I’m positive he’s about to give her your number after he sleeps with her as well.”

  “That’s very likely.”

  “So?”

  I reach into my coat pocket and slip my hands into my gloves. “A while ago, I started getting these texts that were clearly from women who’d…” I pause, wanting to make sure I use kind wording… “been with someone the night before. Or sometimes the same night. The first time I replied back that it was the wrong number. But the messages wouldn’t stop coming. I felt bad, I guess. So I just started to gently let these women know that we wouldn’t be continuing.”

  “Why haven’t you called the guy?”

  “I tried one number that I thought it could be but an elderly lady answered and it freaked her out. Thought I was scamming her and yelled. A lot.”

  “Spitfire,” she murmurs.

  “She was. I kind of wanted to talk to her more, actually.”

  “I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t just immediately tell me, or us, apparently, that we’d been duped.”

  That’s where it’s hard to explain without me coming across as completely pathetic. Or lonely. Or bored. “Well…” I hedge.

  “You know what? I don’t really care. I’m just glad I know that he’s a jerk and you’re his accomplice.”

  “No. What? No, I’m not!”

  “What would you call it, then? Allowing this charade to go on?”

  “I…” Crap. Is that what I am? Am I just allowing this guy to continue by talking with the women for a few days before I let them down? I didn’t think I was but maybe she’s right.

  “Yeah. Anyway, nice talking to you. Just do me a favor and stop leading us on, okay? There are enough jerks out there, obviously, and we don’t need someone who’s possibly a nice guy just working the system, too.”

  “Sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Until this moment, I didn’t really see that much harm in chatting a little bit before telling them it wouldn’t work out. But now I see my mistake. I should have put a stop to it immediately. I could have worked harder to get a hold of this guy and tell him to stop using my number. But… “You know what? I might have been helping him out, unknowingly, but at least I really am a nice guy. What if he had used some other phone number and the person on the other end was a complete jerk? At least I was trying to spare y’all’s feelings a bit.”

  “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

  I know she’s pissed by the tone of her voice but honestly, I’m over it. I wasn’t the one who gave her the wrong number. I was just trying to dull the pain a bit of finding out that she’d been duped. It’s not as if I set out to be a dick, like he did. He knew exactly what he was doing the second he was doing it. So why am I the one in the doghouse? This isn’t something I asked for and if she can’t see that I was trying to be decent… whatever. It’s not as if I truly do enjoy getting these texts almost nightly.

  “It was nice talking to you,” I grit out, mad at myself for being angry when I actually understand why she’s upset also.

  “Wish I could say the same.”

  And then she’s gone. I look at my phone, surprised that she actually just hung up on me. “Well, that escalated quickly,” I mutter.

  I take a deep breath of the night air and wish that tonight never happened. What a mess my life has become. I used to have everything planned. I’d go to culinary school. Become a chef. Maybe open my own restaurant like my dad did. Get married and have a few kids. But life changes and I’ve learned it’s best to roll with it. So life didn’t exactly pan out as I’d hoped. It’s not as if I’m miserable.

  My own business is successful. For most people, that would be enough. Okay, maybe not most but a lot.

  I open the door and head back inside, taking a seat at the bar and finish off my now warm beer. I would ask for another but I’m really not in the mood, the liquid souring my stomach already.

  “I can only guess how well that went over,” Sierra says, coming to stand in front of me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Care to share?” she asks, leaning over the bar on her elbows.

  “Not really.”

  “Figured.”

  I give her the short version anyway, partly because I’m curious if she thinks I’m in the wrong here, too.

  “Hmm.” She hums after I finish the story of how I’ve been filling my time over the past several weeks and Sixteen’s reaction.

  “What?”

  “I see both sides, I guess. I understand why she’s mad, of course, but it’s also not as if you were trying to be a jerk.” She shrugs one shoulder then narrows her eyes on a spot over my shoulder. “Though, I gotta say, I’d really like to meet this guy.”

  I glance behind me but don’t see anything other than the wall. Maybe she’s just thinking and not actually looking at something – or someone – in particular. I spin back around and she turns her head to look at me when I ask, “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

  She grins a mischievous little grin. “Might be fun to give him a dose of his own medicine.”

  That makes me laugh. I have to admit, he does deserve it. “Well, there you have it. Your task, should you choose to accept, is to find this guy and turn the tables. Though, I’ll warn you that I’ve tried and can’t figure out what his number is. Maybe I’m wrong and he just chose some random number and he’s not even from around here.”

  She sticks out her hand and gives my hand a hard shake. “Challenge accepted.”

  We both crack up for a few moments but are interrupted when my phone buzzes across the bar top.

  Our eyes both dart to it and see it come up as just a number once again.

  But this time…

  Unknown: Hey.

  I look up and Sierra scrunches her nose up. “Is that a girl?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  “Well, ask!”

  “Just say: are you a boy or girl?”

  She guffaws. “Yeah!”

  “No, thanks.”

  Me: Hey.

  Unknown: I’m him.

  My eyes shoot up to Sierra whose own are almost triple the size they were a second ago. “Holy shit! Give me that phone.” She lunges, tryi
ng to get the phone out of my hand but I pull it away.

  “Settle down, crazy.”

  She gasps and rears back. “You did not just call me crazy.”

  “A spade’s a spade.”

  “Jerk.”

  Unknown: I just got my ass handed to me in the middle of a bar. Any idea why that would be?

  Is he seriously blaming me for this right now? Like it’s my fault he’s been using me to play all these women?

  Me: Huh. Not a clue. Unless you mean because you’ve been handing out my number to every girl you can find and tonight blew up in your face because you got caught?

  Unknown: We had a good thing going.

  Me: That’s debatable.

  Unknown: So what do you say about continuing?

  Me: You mean you giving your one-night stands my number for me to deal with the aftermath?

  Unknown: Glad we’re in agreement.

  What the…

  Me: I said nothing of the sort, you dipshit.

  Unknown: Oh, please. If you didn’t enjoy this on some level, you would have put a stop to it long ago.

  “He’s not wrong, you know.”

  I glare at Sierra who’s shamelessly reading everything between this Toolbag and myself. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  I roll my eyes and stuff my phone in my pocket, tired of this entire conversation.

  “You’re really nosy.”

  “You already said that.”

  “It deserves a second — or third — mention.”

  She shrugs a shoulder and spins around. “I’m bored. I can’t be blamed.”

  I bark out a laugh and she looks at me over her shoulder and grins. She’s cute. Funny. Annoying. A bit pushy. But, interesting. If I were a smart man, I’d see if she wants to get together for dinner sometime. But… for some reason, I’m not interested. I’ve always been able to read people pretty well and Sierra screams friend. Possibly taken by another? Something tells me she is, though I can’t be sure.

  “You have a boyfriend?” I ask, rather bluntly.

  “Now who’s the nosy one?”

  “Learned from the best.”

  She glances at her uncle Kyle and back to me, crossing her arms and leaning onto the bar in front of me. “Yes.”

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Mm hmm. Jealous?” she teases.

  “Nope. I actually was just thinking that you’re kind of annoying,” I tease right back, leaning against the back of the bar stool I’m sitting on. I drape an arm over the stool next to me and offer up a cheesy smile, finishing it with a wink.

  “Ah! Rude!” she shouts, but she’s laughing as she says it.

  “I was just teasing.” I pause then add, “Not really. I actually was thinking you’re a bit annoying and pushy but you’re also funny and kind of interesting. You’re like the annoying little sister I never had.”

  “No little sister?”

  “Just one older sister. She got married a few years ago, though, so now I have a big brother, too. He’s really perfect for her.”

  “Aww. It sounds like you like him.”

  “I do. He’s a great guy. My sister, Lily, she’s actually my stepsister but her dad adopted me so I guess she’s just my sister. Anyway, she’s a social worker. He has some experience with that. They’re in the process of foster-to-adopting two little boys.”

  “That’s amazing,” she says, eyes lighting up.

  “It is,” I agree, swallowing hard.

  She reaches down and grabs a glass and starts wiping it, checking for water spots before placing it aside. “Well, my boyfriend, his name is Jeff. And he’s a good guy.”

  “Good is good.” I smirk at my little quip.

  “I think so, too!”

  “How long has he been lucky enough to call you his girlfriend?”

  “I knew you were jealous,” she jokes, drying another glass. “Year and a half. We live together.”

  I smile at that. The way her eyes both soften and light up when she says it. “And where is he right now?”

  “Home. I came for a visit to this guy,” she gestures over to Kyle, “but he’s crazy busy at work right now.”

  “What’s he do for a living?”

  “He’s a math geek. Molds young minds all day.”

  “Teacher?”

  “You guessed it.”

  “You gave good clues.”

  “Thanks.”

  Grinning, I shake my head at her. She’s kind of a goober. Or something. I don’t know. I can’t say as I can picture her with a stuffy teacher, but then again, maybe this teacher isn’t stuffy. I glance at my phone and notice it’s getting kind of late. Late for someone who has to be at the gym by six a.m. “Well, not that you’re not a joy to talk to, but I need to get home. Early morning.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what is it you do, Jack?”

  “I run a boxing gym.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Nope. Not kidding. Boxing changed my life.” Which is actually a bit of an understatement. Also part of the long story that I’m not prepared to discuss right now.

  “Interesting. Maybe I’ll have to check it out while I’m still here.”

  I stand and put my coat back on then toss a ten dollar bill on the bar. I only had one drink so it should cover it plus the tip. “Please do. Something tells me it’d be a very interesting workout.”

  She winks and gives me a little wave as I make my way to the door, shouting a goodbye to Kyle over my shoulder before I push through the door to the cold Michigan night.

  I take a deep breath, the cold cutting into my lungs and making them burn. Maybe now that this guy got caught tonight he’ll stop with all the madness he has dug both of us into. I can only hope.

  Just as I’m about to hop in my car to head home, my phone buzzes in my pocket and all I can think is that’s what I get for hoping.

  And because I’m a glutton for punishment, and my curiosity is always getting the best of me, I reach for my phone and immediately wince.

  Unknown: So that was a first for me. Bathroom sex in a bar. But I’m so glad you gave me your number so maybe we can do it again. This time in a bed. Call me? xx Aubrey

  “Shit.”

  I shut my door and groan, quickly adding a number into my contacts.

  Me: Really, dude? Really? Bathroom sex?

  Toolbag: What can I say? She didn’t want to wait.

  Me: Sounds like she’s perfect for you. Why not give her your number?

  Toolbag: Clinger. Stage 5.

  Me: You do realize I could easily give her your number now that I have it, right?

  Toolbag: Something tells me you won’t. Call it a hunch.

  Me: I hate you.

  Toolbag: No, you don’t. This is filling your life with so much entertainment.

  I hate so much that he’s right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JACK

  “Bet you never thought you’d see me again, did ya?!”

  I laugh as I make my way to the front door of my gym, BoxUp, to greet Sierra. She looks ridiculous in an all gray sweatsuit and black stocking hat like she’s taken her fashion advice from one of the Rocky movies. “What’s up, southpaw?”

  She beams. “I was so hoping you’d get it. Any gym owner worth his weight — get it? Weight? — should know who I’m channeling right now.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m a huge fan of all the Rocky movies. Stallone is one of the greatest actors of all time.”

  “Favorite quote?”

  I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. “Easy. ‘Every champion was once a contender who refused to give up.’” Then I point across the room to it painted on the gray wall in bright yellow.

  “Fighters fight, right?”

  “That they do.” I grin at her short quote. “I take it you’re a fan, too?”

  “For sure. Absolutely without a doubt one of my favorites.”

  I clutch my heart in mock pain. “All the good ones are taken.” />
  “Right? I’m a catch.” Then she puts her fists up and bounces around on her toes, jabbing a time or two out in front of her like she has a clue what she’s doing, which I can tell she doesn’t, no matter how many times she’s watched the movie.

  “Okay, okay, let’s get you a lot of help before you hurt yourself.”

  She punches the air above her then follows me like she’s giddy. I do a quick intro to a few of my regulars and we get to work. I show her a few basic moves and let her jump around the ring. She makes a big showing of leaning against the ropes and demanding a drink of water.

  “I was absolutely right last night. You’re incredibly annoying.”

  “I am not! I’m a bundle of joy!”

  I bark out a laugh. “That’s debatable. How many Red Bulls did you drink this morning? Or are you this hyper all the time?”

  “I may or may not have had a Monster Energy on the way here.”

  “And coffee before you left home?”

  “Just one… very large cup.”

  “We need to check your heart rate to make sure you’re not about to collapse from too much caffeine?”

  Sierra rolls her pretty dark eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

  She kind of is but at the same time there’s an addicting energy to her that I can’t deny is sucking me in.

  I spend the next thirty minutes letting her dance around and throw punches while trying to correct her form. It’s exhausting. She has the attention span of a gnat. It’s worse than working with a toddler. She listens to instructions for about minute then pretends like she knows what she’s doing. In the end, I decide just to let her have fun and make her promise that she’s never going to step foot in a boxing gym again. Or get into a bar fight.

  I try not to focus on how cute she is and the way her body moves. Her curves that I noticed last night but are now hidden under her bulky sweat suit.

  “No promises on the bar fight thing. I’m feisty.”

  I sigh, needing caffeine after spending the last hour with her. “Are we about done here?”

  She shrugs, looking around the gym. “I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching me how to defend myself in a wicked street battle.”