Neighbor Dearest Read online

  “I feel like I need to say this now, because I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that I somehow find you undesirable when it’s exactly the opposite.”

  I crossed my arms. “Again. Not following you.”

  He closed his eyes as if to try to find the right words. “It’s just that I know for sure that I can’t ever be what someone like you needs in a boyfriend, in a partner. It’s not that we wouldn’t have fun or be great together at first. I’m just not good for you in the long-term—not marriage material. And the reasons are too complex to get into, except to say that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I can’t, in good conscience, start something with a girl like you.”

  “A girl like me…”

  “Yes. You’re not the kind of girl a guy takes home for a quick fuck. You’re the girl he keeps.”

  Right. Just like Elec did.

  “You didn’t have to explain all of this. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t clearly been upset, I might not have said anything. I just don’t believe in beating around the bush with people or leading them on. I’m not like your ex. But I also need you to understand that there’s a difference between not wanting to be with someone and not being able to. I know more than anything, you’re scared to get hurt again. And while I know I would really enjoy crossing the line with you, if I did, I would end up hurting you. I’m not gonna be that guy.”

  Feeling a weight on my chest, I said, “Well, I appreciate your honesty. This was a little deeper of a conversation than I expected this early.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I felt like something needed to be said after the way you left. I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking you were upset.”

  I swallowed, feeling a numb mixture of sadness and disappointment. Unsure of what to say, I smiled. “Is being friends off-limits, too?”

  “Of course not. I feel better about the friends thing now that I explained myself to you. I just don’t want things to be awkward between us, you know, if—”

  “If you’re with a girl…” I interrupted.

  He nodded. “Or if you’re with a guy.”

  Damien had said he felt better, but he didn’t look it. He didn’t look relieved. He looked upset and tense.

  And I was more confused than ever.

  ***

  Brian Steinway was a great all-American guy.

  Having relocated from Iowa to the Silicon Valley to take a job at Hewlett Packard, he was fairly new to the Bay Area.

  During our coffee date, he listened intently to every word that came out of my mouth and kept telling me how much more beautiful I was in person. He had blond hair and blue eyes and quite frankly, looked like the brother I never had. Brian was sweet and self-deprecating and everything a girl should want on paper.

  In our corner couch at the Starbucks on Powell Street, I sipped my latte as we carried on a comfortable conversation amidst the sounds of frothing milk and grinding coffee beans. I pretended to be truly interested in what he was saying, even though thoughts of Damien were ever-present, clouding my head when I should have been giving this sweet man in front of me all of my attention.

  I couldn’t help thinking about the fake coffee date that was supposed to be here with Online Damien. Then, I’d quickly remind myself of the conversation we’d had this morning, and it would snap me back to reality. The past twenty-four hours had been like an awkward dream.

  As we got up after a full two hours of sitting, Brian took my cup to throw it away. “I’d love to give you a ride home.”

  “Sure,” I said without thinking.

  Damien would’ve told me that was a bad idea. But he didn’t really have a say. Anyway, I was pretty sure Brian was harmless.

  When we made it to my neighborhood, Brian parked a block down from my place. He came around to let me out of the passenger side before walking me toward the building. I didn’t want to invite him upstairs, so I intentionally stopped in the courtyard.

  Before I even had a chance to say goodnight, a massive amount of light lit up the night sky. Both blinking, Brian and I looked around at what seemed like stadium lighting that illuminated the courtyard as if we were in the middle of a Friday night football game.

  What was going on?

  When I looked up, Damien was staring down at us from his second floor window. His arms were crossed. Then, he casually moved out of the way when he saw me glaring up at him.

  “What’s up with the lights?” Brian asked.

  “My landlord is a little bit cuckoo. He must have installed them to fend off burglars.”

  “Are they on a sensor or something?”

  “Something like that,” I said, knowing full well Damien was controlling this.

  “Can I take you out again? Maybe dinner instead of coffee?”

  “Sure. That would be nice.”

  “I’ll call you soon, then.” Brian leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. He stood in the courtyard watching until I was safely inside.

  My first instinct was to storm over to Damien’s and demand he tell me why he turned on those lights at the exact moment I’d shown up with Brian. Then, I realized that was probably the reaction he expected from me. After the conversation this morning, I needed to take a step back, have some pride, and just let things be.

  Settling into my couch, I tried to focus my mind on a magazine. Mindlessly flipping through the pages, I was bored. It was just past eight, and the night was young.

  A few minutes later, I could hear music coming from next door.

  Damien suddenly blasted the volume. It took a bit to realize the song was, Two Is Better Than One.

  My phone chimed.

  Damien: Hear that? They wrote a song about you and your ménage fantasies.

  Chelsea: Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night?

  Damien: How was the date?

  Chelsea: He was nice. How was yours?

  Damien: I didn’t have one.

  Chelsea: Too busy spying on mine? Seriously, what was with the lights?

  Damien: I had them installed a while back when some kids were fucking with my mural. I can control them from here.

  Chelsea: That was really intrusive.

  Damien: Just looking out for you.

  Chelsea: By nearly blinding me?

  Damien: LOL. Did you get his full name? I can do the background check.

  Chelsea: I do have his name, but he’s harmless. Trust me.

  Damien: You shouldn’t have let him know where you live so soon.

  Chelsea: I knew you’d say that.

  Damien: Then why did you do it?

  Chelsea: It’s fine.

  Damien: Are you seeing him again?

  Chelsea: Probably.

  Damien: I’m checking him out. What’s his full name?

  Chelsea: Brian Steinway

  Damien: Like the piano.

  Chelsea: Yes. LOL.

  Damien: Any other info?

  Chelsea: Born in Iowa, works at Hewlett Packard, lives in Sunnyvale.

  Damien: Alright.

  Damien went quiet after that. I didn’t hear from him again until there was a knock at the door about twenty minutes later.

  I opened. “What’s up?”

  “I came to tell you the news in person.”

  “What news?”

  “I looked up the guy you’re dating.”

  “And?”

  “Well…I’m afraid…” He scratched his chin.

  “What? Tell me!”

  “Nothing. Completely legit.” He grinned.

  “You scared me,” I said, smacking him playfully.

  Damien bent down to lift something off the ground. It was my basket, sans muffins. “Here’s your basket back.” He’d thrown in a bottle of white along with some cookies that smelled like they’d just been baked.

  “What’s this for?”

  “It’s a thank you for the muffins. I’ve eaten like three of them today. They’re deliciou
s.”

  “You didn’t have to do anything. The muffins were to thank you for helping at Arts Night.”

  “Well, that was nothing. So, I consider the muffins a gift. I don’t accept anything without reciprocating. It’s just how my mother brought me up.”

  I took a bite into one of the gooey chocolate chip cookies and spoke with my mouth full. “These are so good. I think you might have unintentionally started a bake off. I can’t cook, but I can make desserts.”

  “Oh, it’s on!” he joked. “I try to eat healthy, but pastries, cookies, cake…all baked goods…they’re my weakness.” He stole one of the cookies and took a bite. “Well, I just wanted to give you the info and the cookies.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Don’t go.

  As he started to walk away, I stopped him. “Damien?”

  He turned around. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have plans right now?”

  “No.”

  “Would you want to watch a movie?”

  He bit his bottom lip to ponder my question then smirked. “Only if I can pick the movie.”

  “Sure.”

  “You have a DVD player?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come back in a half-hour.”

  ***

  The exaggerated banging on the door was rhythmic. “Knock. Knock.”

  After I let him in, Damien looked down at my outfit. “You’re still dressed up.”

  He’d changed into gray sweatpants that clung to his junk in a way that now ruled out absolutely any chance that he wasn’t blessed in that department. The top of his boxer briefs was sticking out a bit.

  Damn.

  Prying my eyes up, I said, “I didn’t realize this was a slumber party.”

  He moved past me, leaving me with a whiff of his arousing smell. “Well, we’re watching a movie. I figured I’d get comfortable. But feel free to stay in a dress. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

  After our talk, why did I even bother to look good around him anymore?

  He was right.

  “Okay, wiseass, I’m going to change into my sleep clothes.”

  He lifted a microwavable packet that he’d brought and shook it. “I’ll make popcorn and set up the DVD player.” He looked around. “Bowls are where?”

  I pointed to one of the cabinets. “In there.”

  “Sweet.”

  “You’ll have to change the TV mode to composite two. It’s the Sony remote,” I said as I walked to the bedroom.

  “Got it,” he yelled after me.

  Even though my mind knew that Damien had closed the door on the possibility of anything romantic happening between us, my nerves certainly hadn’t gotten the message. Slipping out of my dress, I still felt like a giddy fool. My heart was beating just a bit faster than normal as I threw on some black leggings along with Elec’s old Bruins shirt that I often slept in. Feeling a slight rumbling in my stomach, I decided I should probably take this opportunity to use the bathroom.

  Shitting yourself in more ways than one, eh, Chelsea?

  My bathroom trip took longer than expected. It surprised me that Damien wasn’t giving me hell for it.

  When I finally finished, I felt so much better. That is, until I reentered the living area.

  My stomach sank at the sound of his voice. Blood started to rush to my head.

  His voice.

  A voice I hadn’t heard in so long. A voice I’d tried to block from my brain on a daily basis.

  Elec.

  It took me a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t really him. It was the DVD I’d left in the player a long time ago, one that I’d watched over and over when we’d first broken up. I hadn’t used the DVD player in months, but the disc was still in there.

  Damien hadn’t realized that I was behind him. He was standing there frozen, intently watching the homemade video. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just stood there feeling ashamed.

  When we’d recorded that video, Elec and I were supposed to have been filming a presentation for the youth center and ended up goofing around at the park instead with the loaned camera. At the time, I thought the little movie would make a cute private keepsake. I had no clue it would merely be used instead as a means of self-torture right after our breakup as part of my constant research into what went wrong.

  Listening to it was like slowly getting stabbed in the heart with Damien as a witness to my being massacred. I cringed at the sound of my own voice in the video.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing me, Elec?”

  “I got distracted for a minute.”

  “By what?”

  “By how beautiful you look right now under the sun like this. I just love looking at you through this lens.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re so fucking adorable. I can’t believe you still blush when I compliment you.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do. And I’m just warning you, keep batting your eyelashes at me like that, and this will turn into an unintentional adult film in about two seconds.”

  Giggles.

  “Maybe we can try that later at home, Mr. Cameraman.”

  “Seriously, though, the camera loves you. So do I, actually.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “I do, Chels. I really do.”

  “How much?”

  “Let me show you.”

  Elec drops the camera.

  Kissing sounds.

  Laughing.

  “It’s true, baby, you make me so happy. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  When Damien finally turned and noticed me standing beside him, he shut the video off and just looked at me.

  Silence.

  The expression on his face was a mix of sympathy, anger, and understanding. I think he finally realized why I was so fucked-up.

  When a teardrop started to fall, he caught it halfway down my cheek and said, “He’s a fucking idiot. He’s not worthy of the way you were looking at him in that video, and he’s certainly not worthy of these tears.” He rubbed his thumb along my cheek. “No one is.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “But you know…I get it now. Watching that. Listening to that. I get why it’s so hard for you. I know I joke about you being crazy and all that…but you have every right to be upset and confused. The things he said to you…the way he said them…I would have fucking believed it, too. And I’m a perceptive motherfucker. You just don’t do that to someone. More than that…you deserve so much better.”

  “That was only three weeks before he went to Boston and reconnected with her, when everything changed. When he was away, I found a ring in his drawer. He was going to ask me to marry him.”

  Damien shut his eyes momentarily and let out a series of profanities under his breath.

  “He’d better not ever set foot in our building. I swear to God, if I ever see him, I’m gonna fuck him up.”

  Our building.

  A small laugh escaped me at the thought. “Thanks for wanting to do that for me.”

  “You shouldn’t be watching that video.”

  “I wasn’t watching it recently. I swear. I never use the DVD player now because I have Netflix. That disc has been in there for several months.”

  He ejected the disc and held it in his hand in front of me. “You don’t need to hear this shit ever again. With your permission, I’m going to destroy it. Can I?”

  What was I supposed to say? I had to let him do it.

  Somewhat reluctant, I nodded anyway. “Okay.”

  With one hard bend of the disc, Damien snapped it in half before walking over to the trash and discarding it.

  He wiped his hands clean exaggeratedly. “What’s next?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That shirt you’re wearing. It was his, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you wearing a bra?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Turn around.”

  Ex
pecting him to try to take the shirt off of me, my heart started to beat profusely. I closed my eyes when I felt Damien bunch up the material at my back and tug on it. The closeness of his body behind me made my skin heat up.

  “Stay still,” he said before I felt him cutting through the shirt with what I assumed were my kitchen scissors. A draft of cold air replaced the warmth of the shirt as he ripped it off of me.

  “Go put a new shirt on.”

  Wrapping my arms around my chest, I disappeared to my room, taking a minute to grab my bearings as I leaned my back against the door. His cutting the shirt off of me ignited an odd mix of emotions. On one hand, it was a symbol of finality. That shirt was the last item of Elec’s in my possession. More than that, I was caught off guard by how much his ripping my shirt off had turned me on.

  Forcing myself to remember what I’d even come in here for, I grabbed the perfect shirt for the occasion and returned to the living room.

  Damien grinned as he looked down at my chest. “You Bacon Me Crazy. Good choice.”

  “Well, it’s true. You drive me crazy sometimes, but in a good way. Thank you for pushing me to do something I really needed to do.” I leaned in and gave him a friendly hug. I refused to allow myself to acknowledge how fast his heart was beating and how fast mine was trying to catch up to it. Or how he smelled so good that I could practically taste him.

  Damien was the first to pull away. “Ready for the movie?”

  “Yes. What did you bring?”

  He smirked as he walked over to the counter and handed me the DVD that was still in plastic packaging. “It’s your autobiography.”

  “Firestarter. I should have known.”

  “Have you ever seen it?” He smiled.

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Neither have I. But it’s about a blonde who starts fires. So, I feel like I know her already.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Did you buy it?”