I Love You, My Neighbour: Chapter 16
Something genuine
Logan
When my phone vibrates and chirps, I instantly know who the message is from. I pick up my phone and read the text from Kristy: "Do you need any help?"
Without hesitation, I respond enthusiastically, typing back in all caps, "YES! WILL OWE YOU BIG TIME."
Tomorrow is my moving day, and I've been so engrossed in working on my new house that I haven't properly packed up my belongings. It's a chaotic mess of boxes scattered throughout my rental place, blocking every doorway and hallway. I know I should have taken a few days off to tackle this, but I procrastinated. The irony isn't lost on me, considering I preach to my students about the perils of leaving things until the last minute. Yet here I am, guilty of the same offense.
So, I push aside the doubts I have about being alone with Kristy.
I can handle it.
Just because my imagination kicks into overdrive every time Kristy is around lately doesn't mean anything. It's simply that my libido is back – ever since I went to Shark Bait. I don't want it back, but I can't make it non-existent. Since Kristy and I are friends and spend a lot of time together, it's only natural that she triggers certain reactions in me. That's what I tell myself, at least.
Admittedly, the fake show we put on for Camille at Cricket’s obedience class probably didn't help the situation. Seeing Camille herself look at me with such blatant hunger in her eyes? I wasn't prepared for it. As a result, I reacted without considering the potential consequences. I pulled Kristy close to me, feeling the pressure of her breasts against my side and her hand on my abdomen, while we pretended for Camille's benefit. It stirred something within me, making my blood thicken and run hotter. All the fantasies that had haunted me before came rushing back with full force.
But I need to keep everything in perspective. Sleeping with Kristy or pursuing a relationship with her is completely out of the question. I'm not ready to entertain those thoughts. Besides, I doubt a no-strings-attached night with my neighbour would end well. Fortunately, I haven't noticed any signs that Kristy is struggling with similar feelings toward me.
Thank goodness.
Still, it leaves me wondering about her. Why is Kristy not interested in dating? She seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with me and the guys, assisting us with my home renovations. But why does she devote all her spare time to us? Isn't there anything else she wants to do or someone else she wants to be with?
The more I ask these questions, the more I crave answers. Why is Kristy uninterested in dating? Her priorities seem to revolve solely around work and our company, leaving little room for anything else.
Kyle, Adam, and I are all single and decent catches. We have good jobs and aren't lacking in the looks department. Any average woman in their right mind would consider us a jackpot. But observing Kristy's interactions with my friends, I’ve noticed something intriguing. She never flirts with them. In fact, if they even attempt to be friendly or show the slightest hint of flirtation, she quickly blushes and brushes it off. Sure, Kristy is aware of my personal situation, but she’s never tried to pursue something with Adam or Kyle.
"I just meant that feeling of waking up from a coma and being exposed to things you wish you hadn't... it's something I've experienced recently. I've had a couple of terrible encounters in the past that left a bitter taste in my mouth, making me lose interest in many things."
It's possible that Kristy has been hurt before, and now she's hesitant to dive back into the dating pool. Instead, she chooses to spend time with us, avoiding the risk of getting hurt again.
If the circumstances were different, if she weren't my friend and neighbour, and if I wasn't attracted to her, I would ask her about her past and encourage her to move forward. But the truth is, I'm fine with her avoiding relationships with men. As heartless and self-centred as it may sound, I don't want to complicate things by concerning myself with the possibility of her harbouring the same thoughts about me as I fantasize about her.
Even now, the thought of her imagining us in bed together, me inside her, is doing my head in and I am starting to rise to the occasion.
Damn it; I don't need this. Not right now. Angry at myself and my wayward thoughts, I walk down to the bathroom and undress, stepping into the shower as soon as I've turned on the cold water.
When the cold water does little to douse my arousal, I turn the hot water on and give in to the need pounding through me. The days of remaining blank while I jerk off are gone now. Lately, I do my best to keep thoughts of Kristy at bay while I am getting my rocks off. But tonight I don't bother trying to resist the temptation. Instead, I give in and stroke myself while picturing her face, her blue eyes, her full mouth. I imagine her lips and her tongue all over me. And when I picture guiding myself between her legs and sliding into her, my strokes become harder and faster.
I groan, the warm water that caresses my skin a poor substitute for the real thing. I close my eyes and lean one hand on the shower wall in front of me to anchor myself there as I envision her in the shower with me, her back against the tiles and her body wide open to me as I fuck her hard against the wall. I can see her beautiful tits bouncing up and down as my cock fills her over and over again. As my balls tighten and fill, I feel her body tightening around me as she grips my hips with my thighs. I jerk suddenly, imagining her body greedily milking every drop of pleasure from me as I let go, the hot white seed shooting from the base of my cock to the tip and splattering onto the shower wall – where I’d just pictured my neighbour to be.
My heart pounds in my chest as I wash away the evidence, feeling guilty and disgusted with myself. Guilty for picturing someone other than Izzy and disgusted for letting my thoughts about my neighbour and friend spiral out of control. How am I supposed to face her after this?
Realizing I've spent too long in the shower, I turn off the water and quickly wrap a towel around my hips just as the doorbell rings.
Rushing into my bedroom, I hastily throw on the first thing I can find—a pair of jeans—before dashing down the hall to answer the door.
"Hey," she begins, but her words trail off as her gaze slowly sweeps over me. Though she's seen me shirtless before, she's never looked at me like…like she's mesmerized by me before.
Her heated stare trails slowly over every inch of my exposed flesh. Despite what I'd just done in the shower, her heated look does nothing but fire me up more. My nipples harden under her perusal, as does my dick.
When she finally meets my eyes, the dark, unspoken emotions swirling in her depths are enough to make me want to shut the door, back her against it and slam my mouth over hers.
Finally, her eyes meet mine, revealing unspoken emotions swirling within her. It takes every ounce of self-control not to shut the door, push her against it, and slam my mouth over hers.
Thankfully, my rationality kicks in just in time. If I hadn't already taken care of my needs in the shower, who knows what might have happened.
"I'll be back in a minute," I manage to say, hating the husky quality in my voice.
I walk away, allowing both of us a chance to regain composure. Did she notice how turned on she made me? Her gaze was fixed on my chest, at least, not below my waist. So maybe she didn't see my growing erection. It was a close call for a moment there, with her struggle to tear her eyes away from my naked skin.
Damn it. This means she's not unaffected by me. The way she looked at me when I opened the door revealed she's just as aware of me as I am of her.
Does she entertain the same thoughts about me? I hope not.
Regardless of how she looked at me just now, it doesn't matter. And it doesn't matter that she seemed to appreciate the sight. She's my neighbour and my friend. Even if there's an attraction brewing, I won't invite her into my bed when all I can offer is sex. Even if she desires just that—something I have no way of knowing at this point—a one-night stand with a friend and neighbour could have disastrous consequences.
Moreover, her decision to take a break from dating after possible heartbreaks only strengthens my resolve.
I quickly throw on a red Nike t-shirt, waiting for my erection to subside, and then make my way back down the hallway, determined to brush off the encounter and any lingering tension between us.
When I find her in the kitchen, it appears that Kristy is on the same page as me.
She meets my gaze directly. "I thought I could help you pack up your kitchen if you want. I'm quite skilled at it. I brought some boxes, too."
Most likely, that was what she intended to say before she started ogling me.
Right, I don't want to dwell on that right now. The memory of her flushed face and those intense eyes is too damn arousing to have in my head at the moment.
"That's great. I'll give you a hand," I reply.
"Don't be silly," she quickly interjects. "You can start in another area while I tackle this one."
"I could," I agree. "But if we go through each room together, I think we might get it done faster."
She furrows her brow but eventually nods. "Okay."
Honestly, I'm not sure if this approach will be faster, but packing up in silence in different rooms would only make things more awkward. Working together allows us to have conversations and hopefully dissipate the sexual tension that ignited between us when I opened my front door.
In the end, it turns out to be the best decision. The initial awkwardness is palpable, but as we progress through the house, things start to feel more normal by the time we reach my small and cramped living room.
"Oh my goodness. This British Bulldog ornament is huge," Kristy exclaims, pointing at an item on my mantelpiece.
"Yeah, Izzy loved dogs. She brought that back from England after visiting her aunt and uncle there."
"They're English?"
"So was Izzy. She and her family moved here when she was six."
Kristy steps beside me and picks up the photo of Izzy and me that I've been staring at.
That photo captures one of the happiest moments of my life. We had just moved into our rental home together, and I had decided to use the housewarming party as an opportunity to propose. I got down on one knee and asked her to be my wife, and Kyle managed to capture the moment right after she said yes and we shared a kiss. I couldn't stop smiling then; I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
"You look so happy in this photo," Kristy says softly.
A wave of emotion fills my throat, making it hard to speak. "I know."
"She's so beautiful."
"She was the most beautiful person in the world, both inside and out. I can't imagine loving anyone else the way I loved her."
Kristy carefully places the photo back on the side table and gazes at me. "Tell me about her."
I don't often talk about Izzy these days. It's easier to keep the memories locked away inside, avoiding the pain of letting go or feeling like they're fading away. But Kristy's eyes are filled with so much compassion, empathy, and curiosity that I can't resist sharing.
As I speak, Kristy listens attentively. She remains still, except for turning to face me directly and occasionally touching my arm lightly, offering solace as I pour my heart out. I share everything—how Izzy and I met, the duration of our relationship before I proposed, and the kind and caring person she was.
After I tell her about Izzy's work with the RSPCA, she responds by saying, “She probably would have been as impressed as you were at first with my dog handling skills."
I grin at that. "I have to admit, at first, I thought you were exactly the kind of person Izzy used to complain about when she came home."
A small smile appears on Kristy's face. "Would she have confronted me as well?"
"Izzy? No. She had a way of being persuasive without being confrontational. She could sell anything to anyone if she believed it was in their best interest."
Kristy maintains her smile, but there's a hint of sadness in her eyes. "She sounds a lot like Jess."
"What's the deal between you two, anyway?" I ask impulsively.
Instantly, a frown appears on my neighbour’s forehead. "What do you mean?"
Her crossed arms signal defensiveness, confirming my suspicion that something is amiss between her and her friend.
And I need to uncover the truth.
Our conversations flow smoothly enough, but they always revolve around surface-level topics—my work, her work, my house, her dog. I know she has neat-freak parents and a friend who is a model. That's the extent of my knowledge about this woman who has become a part of my life over the past seven weeks or so. After baring my soul, I suppose I'm seeking something more from her.
Something genuine.
And every instinct is telling me that this is real—real enough to make me curious.
"I don't know," I reply, taking a seat on the couch and settling in. "I could be completely off base here, but you never seem all that thrilled to discuss her whenever she comes up in conversation."
"I wouldn't say that. Jess is my best friend—"
"So you're telling me I'm imagining things?"
"Yes. I mean, why would I have an issue with her? She's super-smart. She's kind to everyone. Everyone adores her, including my parents. And believe me, my parents don't adore many people. Jess is perfect. So why would I have a problem with her?"
"No one is perfect."
"You'd be surprised. Jess never does anything wrong. And, I might add, from what you've described, Izzy was perfect," she says pointedly.
"She was perfect to me. But that doesn't mean she didn't have flaws. For one, she snored louder than an overweight trucker."
My neighbour chokes back a laugh. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Her personality was perfect though, right? I mean, it doesn't sound like she had any flaws in that direction."
"She was pretty perfect. The only thing I can think of off the top of my head is that she used to get jealous. She hated it when her friends flirted with me, not that I ever flirted back."
Kristy takes a seat on the armrest of the armchair opposite me.
"So even nearly perfect people get jealous, too?" she asks before she slaps her palm over her face and moans. "God, I feel so pathetic – desperate for a wonderful person to be-"
"Human," I finish for her.
Her eyes widen as she registers my reaction. "No. Don't let me off the hook like that. I'm not a good person. Not like Jess. Or Izzy – from everything you've told me about her. Jess is a wonderful person, the best. You don't understand, she's never done anything but be a good friend to me. And how do I repay her? By being bitter and jealous. That's how."
"Okay, you need to stop with the self-recriminations. Nothing you've said to me before tonight made you sound bitter or jealous."
"And yet I am," she says softly. Her gaze strays to the picture of Izzy for a moment before returning to me. "I hate myself for it, and I've never said it out loud before, but it's the truth. Gah, why did you have to bring it up?"
"Maybe this is something you need to work through."
She bites her lip. "I don't know how. I feel like the only thing I'm good at is baking, but Jess…Jess is good at everything."
"So what?"
"What do you mean, so what? It's…it's annoying. Why am I only good at one thing and she's good at billions of things?"
"Billions might be an understatement."
"Might being the operative word."
The woman has some serious self-esteem issues.
"You can't spend your life looking at everyone else and comparing what they have to what you've got," I tell her. "You can't. There will always be people better off than you and others worse off. All you can do is focus on yourself and make the most of what you've got."
"Maybe you're right. It's just that sometimes I feel like it's an unfair distribution of talent by whoever handed it out."
I chuckle. "Shall we change course and discuss the existence of God?"
"Absolutely not! I came over to help you pack, not to engage in a deep and meaningful conversation."
I smirk. "You started it."
She did when she asked me about Izzy.
The way she frowns as she contemplates whether it is or isn't her fault, however, is kind of adorable.
"Maybe I did," she finally admits. Then she smiles. "But I guess I should stop it or else we'll never finish packing this house on time. I'm so glad I have tomorrow off."
"When are you going to start taking a full weekend off?" I ask.
She sighs. "I've been thinking about it. I just don't know what to do with the time off."
"The same thing you do every other time you have a day off—hang out with the guys and me. Help me with my place."
A half-smile tugs at her lips. "And what will I do when you're done with that? When you've finished renovating? What am I supposed to do with my time then? I won't know how to occupy myself."
"Then we'll find something else to do."
She looks at me, really looks at me. And in that moment, I want to ask her why she doesn't date anyone—what tragedies or insecurities lurk in her past, preventing her from moving forward. What caused her self-esteem to sink so low? But I don't. She has already shared a lot of herself tonight.
And so have I.
"Come on." I get to my feet. "Let's finish this job."
"Yes, boss."
The way she says it reminds me of how Kyle, Jamie, and Adam would say it. I smile at the thought. The earlier awkwardness has completely dissipated, replaced by a friendship that's starting to mean a lot to me. Our conversation tonight deepened the connection, and although thoughts of her naked get me hot and bothered, I don't want anything to ruin our friendship.
As I grab her hand and help her up, however, electricity jolts through my entire body. My heart stops and starts from the shock, and when our eyes meet, it beats so fast it hurts.
I don't know if she feels it too, but I'm relieved when she returns to packing and starts talking about my plans for moving day as if nothing happened.
As long as we both continue to ignore the spark between us, we'll overcome whatever this is. There's no future for us if we act on it—no friendship, no relationship, nothing at all. I'm broken, and Kristy? I don't know what she is, but sleeping together would do more harm than good. Of that, I'm sure.