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Chapter 8
Asra
The next several daysfly by. I hide inside. I’d like to think I’m just sleeping during the day, busy doing my thing at night, same old routine as normal. But, I’m hiding from the neighbor.
After dumping all the toilet paper in his truck, I don’t want to incur the brunt of his wrath. Not sure what he’ll do to retaliate, but I have no desire to find out. Best just to lay low. Or, stay indoors in my case.
Making myself a sweetened, green tea Wednesday evening, I secure my robe around my waist a little tighter and make my way over to the dining room window. For all of my attempts at avoiding him, I still find myself drifting to this window multiple times a day. I don’t know why, other than to torture myself, but I peer across the driveway into the neighbor’s yard.
There’s less noise today. Maybe that means he’s almost done with whatever he’s doing over there, and I’ll be able to sleep better soon. Although, I’m not sure what less noise will do to remove the blond, green-eyed, far too muscular guy that keeps plaguing all of my dreams.
I huff out a breath and take a sip of my tea.
His truck is there, covered in dirt and sitting right in front of his two car garage. Not inside the garage, where eyesores are supposed to stay, nope, it’s right out front, right in my line of view. I roll my eyes, then catch movement on their deck. Turning that way, I watch as he stands up from a patio chair and downs the rest of his beer.
My eyes roll again.
It shouldn’t bother me. Other people drinking has never bothered me before. I’m not a recovering addict or one of those holier than thou types who’s against all alcohol. It’s just a personal choice, I don’t like pain. Simple as that.
Yet, I can’t stop glaring at him from the corner of my window. I should look away. Instead, I take another sip.
He sets the empty bottle down. Then grabs the hem of his shirt.
My cup stalls, hovering right beside my lips.
He yanks his shirt over his head.
My mouth falls open.
Holy freaking muscles. He’s even more ripped than I remember from when he moved in. But, there was a box in the way, I couldn’t see everything. Even next door, I can see his six-pack and his biceps.
While I stand frozen, gaping like an idiot, he bends down, taking his jeans off.
I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to. Couldn’t move if my life depended on it.
As he strolls down the steps of his deck, I sigh. He left his boxers on. The dark-gray cloth doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Still, I can’t help but wonder what that bulge looks like without the thin piece of cloth.
I moan, clenching my thighs together.
Taking a few steps toward his pool, he stretches his arms out and dives in. A second later, his head leaps out of the water. After running his hands through his hair, he reaches down into the water. In the next instant, he tosses something wet onto the cement. It lands with a splat. Wet, gray cloth.
His boxers.
I drop my mug. It crashes to the floor, spilling hot, green liquid all over my feet and legs. As I yelp and jump back, he turns. His eyes lock with mine for a millisecond before I scream again and duck out of the way from the window.
My heart races as I sink onto the floor. Green liquid seeps into my robe, yet all I can do is run my shaky hands through my hair. He saw me. The asshole neighbor saw me ogling him. While he was naked in his pool.
I’m never living this down.
I can’t ever go outside again.
Finally after abouttwenty minutes, I crawl underneath the window to my kitchen and retrieve a roll of paper towels. I crawl back, avoiding all windows pointing to his property, and begin wiping up the sticky, green mess. Huffing, I pick up as many chunks of my now broken, purple ceramic happiness as I can and crawl back to the kitchen. I toss the remnants of my mug in the trash, then grab some cleansers and crawl back, my back and knees protesting with the clumsy movement.
“I’m an idiot. There’s no way he’s still watching.” Shaking my head, I grab the window seal and slowly rise up, peeking my head just over the ledge.
A squeak escapes my lips. I cover my mouth, darting back for a second. After I take a few slow breaths, I sneak another glimpse out the window.
He’s still there, doing backstrokes across the pool, his bottom half submerged under the strangely blue water. I’m sure all pools have blue water. But the only thing I can do is huff at the hidden glimpses of what I can’t quite make out.
