Hate Thy Neighbor

by S. M. Soto

  After work, Travis follows me home, and I give him full rein of my car to get it out. The whole process goes smoothly, and it’s much quicker than I thought it would be. He does most of the work, while I hang on to the other end of the desk, attempting to help him bring it inside, but if we’re being honest, he’s doing all the work.

  We chat outside for a bit, laughing easily about one of the incidents that happened at the office earlier. Mrs. Williams is a regular at the clinic with her cat. If it’s not one thing, he’s swallowed or gotten into, it’s another, and even though both Travis and Samuel have told Mrs. Williams countless times that she doesn’t need to bring in her cat for everything, she still does it anyway.

  I freeze, pausing mid-conversation, when I hear Rome’s motorcycle pull down the street and up his driveway. My stomach dips with something that feels an awful lot like guilt, but I brush it off. I don’t need to feel guilty for anything. I asked a friend for help. So what?

  I can feel his gaze drilling holes into us. I can practically see the sneer on his face, and if I’m not mistaken, I notice Travis step closer to me. I dart my gaze to his, a frown settling between my brows.

  What the hell is that about?

  When I turn back to look at Rome, he’s already rolling his bike into the garage and shutting it. I don’t get a wave or anything that makes me feel special tonight. Dread settles in the pit of my belly at the realization. It feels like it used to, before we became somewhat civil with each other. I worry he might go back to hating me all over again because of this. But why? Why would Rome, of all people, care?

  “That asshole still giving you problems?” Travis asks, his gaze glued to the house next door.

  I shake my head, trying to suppress the sudden bout of anxiety coursing through my veins. “No, I told you, I think we’ve come to somewhat of an understanding. And he’s not an asshole.”

  Travis raises a disbelieving brow.

  “Okay, well, not all the time.” I roll my eyes. “Not friends, but definitely not enemies.”

  Travis nods, his gaze darting from me back toward my house. Under normal circumstances, if he wasn’t my boss, and he didn’t make a habit out of dating all his employees, I’d invite him inside, but at this time of night and seeing as he’s made his attraction toward me clear, I refrain from doing so. His track record with women from the clinic isn’t the greatest. I pause on my way up my porch, when I realize Travis is following me. He might be my potential boss, but I am not inviting him into my home. Not happening.

  Clearing my throat, I point back at my house. “Well, thanks for all the help, but I should really head in and start getting ready for bed now. See you at work?”

  Travis looks like he wants to say more, but as I wave and continue backing up toward the door, he shakes his head slightly, deciding not to. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow, Olivia.”

  Hurrying inside, I lock the door, and the first thing I do is run into my bedroom. I’m surprised and a little deflated that, for once, Rome has his curtains shut. They’re almost always open, about ninety percent of the time.

  Dread takes root in my belly. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a specific reason, tonight of all nights, he decided to shut his curtains. I don’t think he had a woman with him—not that that has ever stopped him before. It can’t be because he saw me with Travis, can it?

  No.

  Most certainly not.

  That would mean he cares, potentially even feels something for me, and that is not something my dickish neighbor does. He has made it clear he cares for one person and one person only—his little brother. Where would I fit into that equation?

  I wouldn’t. And that’s the problem.

  The next morning, when I’m leaving the house, I wave at Rome in passing, and my stomach drops, painfully, when he ignores me and peels out like an absolute child.

  I guess that answers my unspoken question about him being upset.

  What right does he have to be mad at me? I got help from my boss. I didn’t invite the man inside and spill the beans about Roman’s life. Besides, he’s not my damn keeper.

  I’m certain there’s another explanation for the way he’s acting this morning.

  There has to be.

  The entire day at work I’m in a mood over how asshole-ish Roman is acting. As I’m prepping one of the exam rooms for Dr. Bennett and a sick bird, I feel Kassandra settle next me. She perches her perfectly round butt against the counter, not even helping, just standing there watching me.

  “You gonna help?”

  “Noooope. Only reason I’m in here is to figure out what’s going on with you.”

  “There’s nothing going on with me.”

  “Oh, really?” She scoffs. “The whole office begs to differ. You’re walking around here like there’s a perpetual black storm cloud, hovering over your head.”

  I roll my eyes at her dramatics. That’s a bit excessive.

  “There’s nothing wrong. Well, not really.”

  “Spill it. Is it the hot neighbor?”

  “He has a name, you know.”

  “Ooh, I see, we’re getting touchy-feely over him now, are we?” I don’t bother with a response. It’s not like she needs one. She’ll talk over me anyway. “So, what did he do this time?”

  “I-well, I don’t actually know if it’s him or me, but whatever it is, he’s upset with me.” I give Kassandra a rundown of last night, me asking Travis for help, then Rome pulling up and seeing us.

  “The weirdest part was, he didn’t even bother saying hi. He even shut his curtains last night. I mean, c’mon, it’s not that serious.”

  Kassandra guffaws at me. “Oh, God forbid he shuts his curtains before bed and doesn’t say hi to you, you greedy bitch.”

  “That’s just the thing, though. He never shuts them. So why now, last night of all nights?”

  “He’s probably jealous. Chances are, he wants to fuck you, but since you guys are neighbors, he doesn’t want to make things weird. After seeing you with Travis last night, I’m sure he’s jumped to some kind of conclusion regarding the two of you. Also, can I just say how idiotic you are for asking Travis for help, of all people.”

  A groan tears past my lips. “I didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

  “Um, hello, hot neighbor who wants to fuck you is calling. Oh, what’s that? I’m an idiot who asks the manwhore boss instead.” I nudge her on the arm. When she says it like that, I realize just how foolish it was of me to ask my boss for help. “Seriously. Travis is going to get the wrong idea. You’re the only woman who has ever told him no. Hell, knowing him, he probably sees you as some kind of challenge, some goddamn mountain to climb and say he conquered. Just be careful. Don’t get me wrong, Travis is a great guy when he wants to be, but the last thing I want is you turning into the next Lucy of the office.”

  I cringe. “Yeah, that was definitely not one of my finer choices, but I made sure I talked with Lucy beforehand. The last thing I need is her hating me because she thinks I’m trying to encroach on her territory.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, babe, but the territory has already been encroached the second Travis laid eyes on you. I’m sure he imagined all the ways he’d screw you, while you guys shook hands.”

  “Oh, gross. You’re seriously the worst. You know that, right?”

  She shrugs, pushing off the counter with a self-serving grin. “So I’ve heard. Oh, and Dr. Bennett is ready whenever you are.”

  I shake my head at her and force myself to push all thoughts of my neighbor out of my mind. I have a job to do.

  “Hey, Max,” I coo down at the husky, as he wags his tail wildly, rubbing his head and ears against my hand. I bend down, showing him some love, by giving him a good scratch. I’ve yet to turn around and face his owner. I was quite surprised that when I got home, Rome was just barely getting home, too. I’m certain if I got there any later, his garage would’ve been shut. Anything to avoid dealing with me.

  Summoning the c
ourage to face him, I do so warily, not sure what version of him I’m going to get.

  Annnd apparently, it’s the bored, cold version. Great.

  “Hi.” The greeting comes out a lot shyer than I’d like, and I can’t believe I’m unable to come up with something more original than my weak hi. Without acknowledging me, Roman calls over Max with a sharp whistle and a gruff command. Max goes without question, leaving me standing there feeling foolish. They retreat into the garage, and just as he’s about to press the button to shut the garage on me, I open my mouth.

  “I thought we were over this, Rome? Over this whole asshole act.” I wave my hand down his body. “I thought we were friends.”

  He pauses with his back to me. When he eventually turns around, there’s a cold smirk plastered across his face. With a sinking feeling in pit of my gut, I take a wary step back. He presses the button, and the garage gears kick into action, roaring, as the door comes down. Just when I’m about to lose sight of him, he speaks.

  “You thought wrong.”

  The garage door shutting is so final, I feel like it echoes around our neighborhood. I glance around, noticing the only person still outside is Josie, the older woman across the street.

  “Is he always so…grumpy?” I call out to her.

  With her cat on her lap and a cigarette dangling from her lips, Josie is, in fact, the poster woman for the typical cat lady. With at least fifty years on me, she’s an older, frail woman with rollers in her hair who just so happens to be a chain smoker, too.

  Her raspy voice calls back to me. “Afraid not. Don’t think he likes you very much, sweetheart.”

  Well, that’s nice.

  My lips thin into a grim line.

  Thanks a lot, lady.

  The rest of the week goes on much the same way. Roman avoids me at all costs. It doesn’t matter if I go out of my way to say hello, knock on his door, or try to walk over, while he’s working in the garage, he’s seemed to master the art of ignoring me, while simultaneously being a prick. Under other circumstances, I might be impressed.

  I’m not.

  We’ve seemed to have fallen back into that hate-on-hate relationship we had before. I find myself growing more vindictive where he’s concerned. Thankfully, neither of us have stooped low enough to prank each other again, but everything else just feels like it used to.

  The glares.

  The snide comments.

  I miss sitting with him in his garage and watching him work. I miss listening to him talk and smile. And his laughter. Jesus, I think my greatest accomplishment was the first time I made him laugh.

  He laughs so rarely that, when it did happen, you couldn’t help but stop and listen. Soak it in because you weren’t sure how long it would last or if you’d ever hear it again.

  I think the worst part of all this is the women I’ve noticed he’s been bringing home more frequently. He’s been diligent not to leave his curtains open, and I’ve made sure I keep my window shut and locked at all times, but seeing as our houses are literally right next door to each other, it’s impossible not to know what he’s up to over there. It’s a bit of a curse and a blessing, all in one.

  Every time I spot a gorgeous woman leaving his house in the middle of the night, I can’t ignore the piercing pain in my chest or the way my stomach revolts. I’m jealous. Horribly jealous that those women have gotten his smile. They’ve gotten his laughter. And I’m sure they’ve gotten much more than that, too.

  Roman being with other women shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I shouldn’t feel crushed that he’s spending time with other women. It shouldn’t feel like there is a vise wrapped around my heart. Hell, I don’t even know why I care. It’s not like it’s any of my business.

  Scratch that, I do know why I care, and I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t have a soft spot for Rome. I wish he would’ve never told me about his past and his little brother, and everything he’s done to get him back. I wish he weren’t so damn beautiful to look at. I wish I didn’t like him so much. I wish I didn’t like him at all. I wish I still hated him. That would make my life so much easier.

  As I’m taking out the trash, I try to refrain from rolling my eyes, as I watch the girl leave his house, climbing into her little Acura parked at his curb. She’s gorgeous. Even I can tell from this distance in the dead of night. She’s all legs and beauty. And I loathe myself a little more for hating her, more than I currently hate Roman.

  I seriously need help.

  I don’t know what makes me say it, but as she’s climbing into her car, I yell out, “Did he tell you about the gonorrhea?” I ask, pointing toward Rome’s house. The woman freezes, and her mouth drops open, shock clearly written all over her face. I stifle a laugh, feigning concern I certainly don’t feel. “He didn’t tell you? My, my, you might want to get that checked out in the morning. Have a great night!”

  Still frozen in place, the woman glances at Rome’s house and shakes her head, before falling into the driver’s seat and taking off. I watch her car go, feeling a little better.

  “That’s mature.”

  A scream tears from my lips, and I whirl around, my heart banging wildly in my chest, when I find Roman standing on his porch, arms crossed over his tan, broad chest, as he glares at me. He’s perched against the column, so casually, it makes me wonder how long he’s been standing there.

  I place a hand over my chest, trying to stabilize my heart rate. “What the hell is the matter with you? You just took five years off my life!”

  “Good.”

  I quirk a brow. “So you enjoy taking years off my life? That’s wonderful, Roman. Such a stand-up guy.”

  He pushes off the column, stepping closer to my side of the yard. Even in the dark, I can clearly see every slab of corded muscle. “And you really think you’re any better than me?”

  “Seeing as I don’t dip my dick into anything that has boobs and a vagina, yeah, I’d say I’m a whole lot better than you.”

  He smiles at me coldly, and I feel the effects of it like a shot to the chest. I hide my wince. “You’re awfully worried about my sex life, Olivia. What’s the matter?”

  My lips thin into a grim line, my frustration with him billowing just below the surface, threatening to boil over. “I’m not worried about anything but my lawn and the state of this neighborhood. It doesn’t look favorable when you have a neighbor that lets floozies leave his house at all hours of the night.”

  “If it bothers you so much, don’t look out the window, babe.”

  My frustration only grows to new heights at the use of the word “babe.” My hands ball into fists at my sides, causing my nails to dig into the flesh of my palms. “One, don’t call me babe. And two, I haven’t been looking out of the window.”

  “Then how would you know I have ‘floozies’ coming and going?” He smirks, clearly thinking he’s caught me.

  I roll my eyes. “Get over yourself. And get yourself checked for gonorrhea, while you’re at it, dickhead.” I turn on my heels, stomping back toward my house. I hear his laughter behind me. He’s enjoying this. He enjoys pissing me off.

  “Good night, Olivia.”

  “Fuck off,” I holler, before slamming the front door behind me.

  My cell rings on the kitchen table, dragging my attention away from the asshole next door and our encounter. For that, I’m all too thankful. I answer, forcing a smile into my tone, for my mother’s sake. She’s been calling every week, demanding I give her doctor updates. I’ve lied and told her I’m looking into it, but the truth is, I haven’t even opened the email she sent. I don’t want to face my reality and deal with more appointments and more doctors. More of the same thing.

  I’ve had a nice reprieve from all that since moving here to Campbell. I should’ve figured that wouldn’t last for long.

  “Make any appointments yet?” she asks, tone hopeful.

  “Called two doctors. We’ll see how it goes.”

  My mom’s silence prompts me to pull
the phone away from my ear, making sure she’s still on the line.

  “Mom?”

  “Are you lying, Olivia?” she asks, in that tone of voice I’m all too familiar with. It’s the tone of my childhood. The same one she’d always use when she knew I was lying.

  “What?” I feign innocence. “About what?”

  I suddenly feel like I have cotton mouth, and I’m a lying teenager all over again, fibbing to my parents, so I can go out and party with my friends, after they’d already told me no.

  “About the doctors. Who did you call?”

  I can practically see her crossing her delicate arms over her ample chest. “I, uh, I called the first two. Figured it was safest to start at the top of the list.”

  “Olivia.” The warning in her voice is clear, and it prompts me to roll my eyes.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll call tomorrow. Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway? It’s late.”

  “Don’t divert. All we want to do is make sure you’re okay. You know that, right? Your health, whether it’s mental or physical, we just want to know you’re okay, sweetheart.”

  I blow out a guilty sigh. “I know, Mom.”

  “Change Your Life”—Kehlani Ft. Jhené Aiko

  After another long day at work, Atticus, one of my friends at the clinic, recommends we all head to the bar for a night out. Cole’s Bar has become a place we frequent after our shifts. Since it’s close to the clinic, and apparently, Atticus is friends with the owner, Cole, it’s the only bar that makes sense. I’ve never been a barhopping kind of girl, but here, with how laidback and chill this place is, I can definitely see its appeal. It’s a kicked back bar that caters to everyone, from all walks of life. I’ve seen men in fancy suits walk in, college dudes wearing jerseys, groups of women having a girls’ night out, and plenty of other stereotypes, too.

  Once we settle in at our usual table in the center, and there are a few fresh pitchers and a round of shots, I feel the tension slowly ease out of my shoulders from the long day we had. The group is all a little quieter than usual today. It’s more than likely due to the fact we lost one of the animals today. Dr. Bennett couldn’t revive him during surgery, and after getting Travis and Atticus to help, there was still no hope.