It's Complicated (Awkward Love 1)

I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes darting to my window, which just so happens to look right into Nick’s. Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I’m on my knees, cracking open the curtains and peering out. His light is on, which gives me a clear look inside his window, through the transparent lace netting.

My heart races when I see him walk in from the bathroom. He peels his shirt off first, giving me a close-up view of his well-defined, muscular chest. I glance downward, praying to God that those pants are going to come off next, but then he disappears back into the bathroom, leaving me crouched down on my knees in the dark, feeling crushed.

It’s what you deserve for listening to stupid gossip in the first place.

The poor guy has been through enough without me adding to it, but I just can’t help myself. It’s like driving past a car crash. You know you shouldn’t, but human nature means you’re going to turn and look, and you’re going to keep looking until the scene is out of your view. This is no different. After hearing the rumors, and spending time with him today, I need to know if they’re true.

I hold my breath when he reappears a few minutes later, wearing only a towel casually draped over the lower half of his body. His skin glistens, still slightly wet from the obvious shower, his muscles twitching as he moves. My stomach churns. It’s like I know something big is about to happen, but I’m not sure what. It’s the same feeling you get when your team comes from nowhere at the very last second to score the winning goal. I tense, biting my lip as his fingers unravel the edge of the towel. When he flicks it off and turns around to face the window, I lower my gaze and…

Oh. My. God.

Holy fucking crap. Sweet motherfucking Jesus.

That is one huge dick. God, I didn’t think they made them that big.

I can’t tear my eyes away from it. Something like that should come with a warning. Or at least, instructions, because I’m squirming just thinking about it. I feel bad for seeing something I know I shouldn’t be watching, but I just can’t drag my eyes away from him. My heart pounds so loudly that I’m waiting for him to look up and wonder what the noise is.

He runs the towel over his body, drying himself off, and when he gets to his package, he... Oh God, he’s stroking it. My eyes widen. Is he masturbating? Nope, just drying himself, but fuck, it’s incredibly hot, all the same.

I sit there, glued to the show he’s putting on for me until his lights flick off. Even then, I can’t bring myself to move, because while he’s obviously gone to bed, with those blinds still wide open, any movement over here is probably going to be noticed.

Eventually, I work up the courage to move. Crawling across the room, I fumble for my phone. I need to tell someone. I need to tweet this or Facebook it or something. Surely there’s an Instagram page called “My Insanely Sexy Neighbor Has a Huge Dick.” I text my best friend, Kayla, my hands shaking, knowing she’ll appreciate this. Five seconds later, my phone rings.

“You what?” she screeches. I wince and hold the phone a little farther away from my ear. “Please, Anna,” she begs. “Please tell me you took pictures.”

“Of course not,” I gasp, my face heating up. “What kind of creeper do you think I am?”

“You were already breaking the law by perving on him,” she points out. “How much further would you really be going by taking a few innocent photos?”

“God, Kayles,” I say, ignoring her comment. “I’m at a loss for words. I seriously have nothing to say. Expect maybe wow. And fuck. And holy shit, his cock is huge.”

“You’re finding your voice, that’s good,” she teases. “But honestly? Without photos, I’m not convinced. You’re comparing him to Billy Simmons, from seventh grade and some weird guy from the library that’s been stalking you.”

“Once, Kayla. He flashed himself to me once, and suddenly he’s my stalker?” And apparently, the librarian’s son. I don’t tell Kayla because then I’d need to explain how I knew that.

“My point is, you’re not exactly an expert when it comes to male genetailia.”

“And you are?” I retort. “It’s big, Kayla. Trust me. I have enough experience with what comfortably fits inside my vagina to know a big dick when I see one.” I cringe at how that came out like I have an array of items entering my vagina.

Thank God, Dad is out tonight.

“So, are we talking a carrot or a squash?” she teases. “Because I’m guessing that’s where you’re experience lies.”

“If a carrot were fifteen inches long and as thick as my arm, then yes, a carrot would be comparable,” I snap. “Forget I called you,” I mutter, hating the sound of her high-pitched giggle.