Neighbors (3 page)

Four

I clean
up and toss out the trash. After changing into my pajamas, I sit on the couch and channel surf, trying hard not to think of my new neighbor, but I can’t get Dylan out of my head. His wonderful smile and warm eyes… and hot body, are etched in my brain.

I start
to nod off during Letterman’s monologue but a low knock causes me to jump. It takes a moment for me to register it’s the front door. I look out the peephole. Dylan is on the other side. Happiness swells inside me. I fling the door open.

His expression looks as if he’s been caught stealing.
“I’m so sorry to bother you again. I don’t have hot water. I’m just too wiped out to deal with the pipes in my basement. Do you think I could use your shower? I know we’ve only just met, but I won’t be able to go to sleep unless I’m clean.” Dimples highlight his cheeks and he’s carrying a small bundle of clothes.

I guess
my name is on Santa’s Good List. “Sure, no problem. It’s right in here.” I lead him to the bathroom and give him a quick run down of the controls. I reach into the closet and pull out a couple of clean towels. My hand brushes his as I pass them to him. A surge of energy travels up my arm. He smiles and closes the bathroom door and I run to my phone. I wait until I hear the water run.

“Tracy,
I’m sorry to call so late, but you’re not going to believe this.” Then, in the lowest voice I can possible whisper in, I tell her about pizza and the hot guy in my shower.

“Oh my god, Mel. You so have to do him.”

“What?! I don’t even know him.”

“Who cares? He’s gorgeous and he’s in your shower right now, naked. When are you ever going to get a more perfect opportunity?”

“Tracy, I can’t do that.”

“Why not, Mel? You haven
’t had sex in like two years.”

“First of all, he just moved
in. He hasn’t even spent one night in his house yet. Second, he’s a stranger. I don’t know anything about him. Third, what if it backfires, or doesn’t work out? How am I going to look at him every day? Fourth, it’s only been seventeen months since I’ve had sex. And fifth… wait, I don’t have a fifth.”

“Mel, he’s super hot
. He has the face of Adonis and the body of young Arnold Schwarzenegger. And, he’s naked in your shower. You’re crazy if you don’t take advantage of this situation. Go offer to wash his back... or his front. Besides, if it doesn’t work out it isn’t your house. You can move out.”

“And go where, Tracy?”

“You can crash here until you find a place. I have plenty of room now. But it will work out, Mel. I say go for it. Take a chance.”

“I’ve got to go, the water just went off.”

Before I hang up the phone, Tracy says,  “You’d better call me tomorrow. I want to know if he’s as good as I imagine he is.”

I thro
w myself onto the couch and try not to look guilty.

Several minutes pass
as I attempt to focus on the television, but all I can think of is the gorgeous, sexy man, naked in my shower. Immoral thoughts fill my head. I try to quash them but I can’t. They mix with shame when he appears in a clean tee shirt and jeans, which fit nicely in all the right spots. Wet curls drip down the sides of his head, and he smells of my shampoo. Tracy’s words play over and over in my head. “… do him.”

“I hope you don’t mind
, I used your shampoo. Mine is still packed in one of the boxes. It’s going to take days to put all of the essentials away.”

Mind? He could use whatever he wanted,
especially if it meant he’d be naked in my house. “That’s fine,” I say. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I don’t want him to leave. He is too nice to look at.

“Nah, I’ve imposed on you enough. Plus, I
feel as if I’m going to crash. Thanks though. You’ve been extremely generous, especially since we’ve only just met. I hope I can return the favor one day.”

Mentally, I’m making
a list of the ways he can return the favor, all of which involve him being naked.

I wa
lk behind him to the door. He reaches for the doorknob, stops, and suddenly turns. I don’t expect it and almost walk into him. His face is close to mine. Large brown eyes look into my soul. He smells of clean cotton and my shampoo. The energy between us is palpable. I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat through the tiny space between us.

“Thank you again,” he says
. His lips are so close. I feel their pull. A knot forms in my stomach. I want to kiss him, but he’s right, we only just met a few hours ago. He’d probably never talk to me again if I do. That wouldn’t be a good way to start off with my new neighbor.

“You’re welcome.” I say
in a dreamy, sing-song voice.

A
grin appears on his face and then he is out the door. I wait until his door closes before I shut mine.

My brain
doesn’t let my body sleep. Instead, I stare at the ceiling. I try to come up with as many excuses for running out of sugar as I can. I wonder how many is too many before it’s considered stalking.

Five

I reach
past the blanket to shut the alarm clock. Five thirty. It’s my second day off, but I like to keep my routine. I get dressed and make a cup of coffee and some whole-wheat toast. The newspaper had been thrown on the front lawn just where the sprinkler water pools up. Before walking back into the house I look over at my new neighbor’s house. In the upstairs windows, I see Dylan folding clothes. I lift my hand and wiggle a few fingers, but he doesn’t see me. Feeling foolish, I go back inside and finish my coffee while trying to concentrate on the newspaper. I find myself peeking out of the window several times. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“So, did you sleep with him?”

“Tracy, I
told you that I can’t do that.”

“Y
es you can, Mel. You’re such a wimp. I would have been all over the guy. He was naked in your house.”

“He was borrowing my shower.”

“Perfect opportunity. Have you seen him today?” She’s persistent.

“I think he’s unpacking. I saw him
through the window when I went out for the paper.”

“See? You want him. You could go over and offer to help him unpack
…his
personals
.” Her tone is suggestive as she stresses the last word.

“Tracy, will you stop it.”

“Why? You need to move on, Mel. And he’s super hot. I bet he’s great in bed.”

“Tracy!”
But I had wondered the same thing.

“Fine. Fine
,” she offers back. “I’m thinking about going to that singles mix on Saturday. Wanna go?”

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t really like meat markets.”

“Well if you aren’t going to go after that hottie across the street, you have to get out and start meeting people. You’ve been out of the loop for too long. What kind of a friend would I be if I let you become an old maid? Hey, if I can get over that cheating asshole I was involved with in just two days, you can move on from Greg in eight months. Just think about it. Well, I have to go to work. Not all of us have three days off in a row.”

We say goodbye and hang up, but her words linger
in my brain. I could go over and offer to help him unpack; his towels, groceries, anything. I hear Tracy’s words tumble around in my head.
Take a chance, Mel.

Before I lose my nerve,
I grab my house keys and place my hand on the doorknob. With my back straight, fresh air in my lungs, and my head held high, I tug on the handle and walk outside. It’s a beautiful, sunny, June day. Not too hot yet, but I can tell the temperature will climb later. Birds whistle their tune and I mentally cheer myself on.
You can do this, Mel. You’re just offering to help him unpack. You’re being neighborly.

With each step toward his
house, my respirations increase. A million thoughts bounce around in my head and before I know it, I’m questioning my motives. I’ve never done anything this bold. I begin to question myself.
What are you doing? He’s going to think you’re a nutcase. What if he just wants to be left alone?

At the top of his porch
, I turn and am about to walk back home, but the door opens.

“Melissa. Hi.
I thought that was you walking across the street.” He’s holding a stack of several empty boxes, and he’s wearing the same tee shirt and jeans from last night.
Now that looks yummy!

“Good morning,
Dylan. I came by to see how your first night was.”

“Emp
tied some more boxes.” He walks to the edge of the street and gently lays the boxes down. His butt looks so good in his jeans. It triggers a whole host of inappropriate thoughts.

“The garbage guys won’t take them like th
at,” I advise. “They need to be flat and tied up.” The naughty side of my brain says,
Oh, that’s a possibility
… but the rational side
scolds.
Stop that. Focus
.

“Oh, okay.” He lifts the boxes and brings
them back to the house. It’s nice to see his arms flex. “Come on in.”

“Oh no, I just wanted to see if
you slept okay.”

“It was strange being somewhere new. I couldn’t really sleep, so I
started to unpack.”

Tracy’s suggestion slips out of my mouth. “Do you need help? I
mean, I could help you unpack.”

“Nah, I’ve got it under control.”

“Oh, okay.” Shot down. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. Everyone says I’m very well organized.”

His perfect lips
part and his dimples appear. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

I
can’t concentrate.
Remember, he just turned you down. Go home, Mel. You’re pestering him.

I linger just in case
I’ve misinterpreted, as I hope. But he doesn’t say any more. Instead, he waves from his doorway. I finish my walk across the street. Once inside my door, I exhale and consider all the ways I messed that up. It brings to mind the day I realized the big mistake I made with Greg.

After he carried me over the threshold of our new house,
he went into the den and closed the door. I had raced into the bedroom and put on another one of my new lingerie sets, lied across the bed in the best seductive pose I could muster, and waited.

Three hours later, I woke to him sitting on the bed to take his shoes and socks off. “Sorry. I had to catch up with the hospital.”

“That’s okay,” I said, winding my arm around his neck from behind him. I pulled myself close to his back, but he pulled away and stood up. “I have to meet George in an hour to have him transfer my cases back to me.” He disappeared into the walk-in closet. I sat on the bed in my pretty underwear and tried not to be hurt that he didn’t even notice.

He emerged from the closet in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. His socks matched one of the stripes. “Don’t wait up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Then he left. I sat on the bed, rationalizing that he was a dedicated doctor who was interested in his patients. Later on I found out that he met with one of his bimbos. Right after he came back from his honeymoon!

Disappointment fills me as I fall
onto the couch. I call Tracy on her cell phone to complain about my lack of finesse.

“Wel
l, at least you tried,” she says.

“A lot of good it did me.”

“You’ll have better luck at the club on Saturday.”

“About that, Tracy, I don’t really want to go. I’m feeling rejected and I need some time to think about what I want.”

“Mel, you’ve had eight months to think about what you want. Two years, if you count the time you first knew Greg was an asshole.”

“I’m just not up for meeting anyone right now, Trace. You go and find a nice guy. I’ll go the next time. Promise, okay?”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Mel. You’re going the next time, no matter what.”

Instead of wallowing, I decide
to be productive. I pull out the cleaning supplies and head into the kitchen.

A
t 12:30, just as I finish up, there’s a knock on my door. Dylan is standing on the front porch. The top button of his golf shirt is undone and a few strands of his chest hair peek out. I can smell the shampoo he used. It’s fragrant, but masculine. I try to suppress both the elation of seeing him and the denial I felt earlier.
He looks yummy!
My brain comments,
Get back on the horse. Try again.
But remembering the rejection from before ruins the optimism.
Don’t forget, he did dismiss you.

“I was wondering
, if you’re not busy, if you’d like to go to lunch with me. It’s the least I can do to show you my gratitude, you know, for the pizza and the shower. You could acquaint me with the neighborhood.”

My blood takes off like a bullet
through my body and my heart thrums in my chest. “You don’t have to do that.”
Yes he does.

“Please,” he asks.
His eyes are wide and he looks so…freakin’…hot.

“
Sure. Let me get my purse.”

He waits
in the living room while I run my fingers through my hair and smooth out my clothes. A quick squirt of perfume before I collect my bag and car keys. I offer to drive and we go to the local diner.

Stealing a
few glances from behind my menu, I watch him contemplate the lunch choices.

Once the waitress takes
our order, Dylan begins to talk. “So, what’s out here? Anything you recommend?”

“L
ike bars and pick-up places?”

He shrugs
. The fabric of his shirt pulls at his shoulders, outlining his biceps. “I guess.”

“I don’t know. I don’t go to those places. My friend
, Tracy said there’s some kind of singles mix on Saturday. I could get you the information, if you’d like.”

“Are you going?” he asks.

“No. When I’m not working, I tend to stay home.”

“Why is that?”

Tracy’s voice is in my head: Yeah, why is that?
“I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“What makes you think you’ll get hurt
?” He sips his water, but his eyes are fixed on me.

I shrug
. I ‘m never comfortable talking about myself. My fingers pick at the paper napkin in front of me. “I don’t know if the right guy for me is out there. I don’t seem to attract the best of them.”

“Just because your
ex-husband is a jerk doesn’t mean you should take yourself off the market. You’re very attractive and you have a nice personality.” His smile is there and his stare melts me. Embers from the small fire I had yesterday are kindling inside me.

I return his smile
. “How do you know? You’ve only known me for, what, twelve hours?” I look up through my lashes. “I could be a horrible person.”

“I doubt it,” he
says. “You look okay to me.”

Enough about you,
my brain shouts.
Find out about him.
“What about you? How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“
I did have one. She was a real doozie. It was great when we first met. We had a lot of fun and we enjoyed being together. Then I moved in with her and she changed. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. I never knew what would set her off. A few times, I came home and found that all of my shirts had been ripped. She said she didn’t know how it happened. Then one day, I found most of my tools broken.”

I gasp
. “What did she say to that?” I lean over the table, interested in hearing what happened next.

“
She denied it, but I found the hammer she used to pound them with. I packed up whatever she didn’t vandalize and moved in with my dad. He let me stay for a while, but I’m not comfortable with his new wife. I knew I needed a place of my own. Then I saw the sign for the house.”

The waitress
serves us our hamburger platters and drinks.

“Oh wow. I hope she doesn’t find
out where you live.”

“Me neither,” he says,
picking up the ketchup. “So, what are the other neighbors like?” I guess he doesn’t like to talk about himself either.

“We
ll, the Millers, the people you bought the house from, were nice. They had a little girl and a little boy. I think they have another on the way so they wanted a bigger place. As for everyone else, I don’t know much.”

Dylan eats his burger while I fill him in on the little I know about
the people I share a street with. Although I’m doing all of the talking, I can’t help but stare at his sexy mouth as he chews
.
A thought pushes in.
I’d like to be his meal.
Followed by a counter thought.
Oh, don’t start that again. Remember, he’s not interested. Keep to being friends
.             

“A
s long as there are no nutcases that live around here, I’ll be fine,” Dylan laughs.

Our conversation moves
to some construction projects he’s currently involved with.

After lunch, I dri
ve around the neighborhood and point out where the necessary vendors are located: the bank, the supermarket, the library, and the local fast food restaurants. When I glance his way, he doesn’t seem interested in any of it. He’s looking at me. I become self-conscious and wonder if I have some leftover lunch on my face. Nervously, I return his smile and show him the location of the post office. Then I drive back to my house and park in my driveway.

“Thanks for the tour,”
Dylan says.

“No problem.
Thanks for lunch.” I don’t want to look at him because I know my eyes will betray me, but I do look at him. As he walks around my car, I find myself admiring how well his jeans hug his behind. Too bad he isn’t interested. A mental vision of Tracy shaking her head in disappointment fills my head.