The Neighbor Next Door

Trent tilts his head thoughtfully, those blue eyes insightful.

“Did she save up money for your college fund?” he asks. My stomach clenches up the way it always does whenever my family’s financial situation comes up because that’s the reason why I’m such a studious, hard-working wallflower.

“No,” I say carefully. “It’s not that she doesn’t want to. It’s that Vivian doesn’t make enough to save for my college education. But it’s okay because my grades are pretty good, so I’m hoping I can get a scholarship.”

Trent nods, understanding. “Sounds to me like you’re in control of your future. Sounds to me like you can choose what to do with your career path, whether it’s working with your hands or otherwise,” he growls. But I don’t want to talk about it, and lay back down on his chest as a way to change the subject. His big hand gently strokes my curls.

“You’re not like other girls, are you, Janie?” Trent asks thoughtfully. I don’t know what he means by this, and I’m afraid to ask. “I respect your outlook on life,” he answers as if reading my mind. “I like that you appreciate hard, honest work,” he adds. A few seconds go by, and then he adds in a softer tone: “It makes me feel like I can be proud of what I do.”

These words give me butterflies and I freeze in his arms, letting the compliment wash over me.

Then I sit up on my elbow again and look him in the eye. “Of course you can be proud of yourself,” I say, and I give him a gentle kiss on the lips. He looks at me like I’m a goddess, his eyes full of something I’ve never seen before.

“Janie,” he whispers, those big hands reaching to cup my face gently. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he says, growing suddenly serious. I nod, listening, but then he stops. I can see the hesitation in that massive form, his eyes flickering slightly.

“What is it?” I ask encouragingly. He looks away, pulling me back into his strong arms.

“Never mind,” comes that rough growl. “I’ll tell you later.”

And it’s been such a huge day of firsts that I’m content to let him simply hold me. We lay together on the couch companionably, letting the hazy Saturday afternoon pass by. Shadows lengthen across the floor as we trade kisses, nuzzling and caressing one another. The muted laughter of children sounds outside, and I revel in my intense happiness. Because there’s something indescribable about this moment. Not only did I have mind-blowing sex for the first time, but I’m being cradled by my lover as well. There’s an amazing connection running between our souls, like an invisible string binding us together. And as if he can hear my thoughts, Trent chuckles deep in his chest.

“What?” I ask lazily, high on my own contentment.

“It’s funny,” he starts, his voice low and gentle. “I don’t think I’ve ever just been with someone like this, just lying around for hours without talking.” His hands run softly through my hair and I close my eyes in enjoyment.

“Me neither,” I whisper. “It feels so natural.” Trent puts his index finger under my chin and gently forces my head up to look at him. His face is gentle, that normally furrowed brow relaxed.

“I feel like I’ve known you for years, Janie. Even though we only just met this afternoon.” I smile, suddenly feeling cheeky.

“Well, technically we’ve known each other a bit longer,” is my playful retort. Trent suddenly tickles me, making me laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he growls before pulling me back towards him. But then the man becomes serious. “You should go home soon. You don’t want your mom to find you here,” he says, suddenly somber. I know he’s right. Pushing myself up and away from him, I sigh. God. Home. Even though it’s only thirty feet away, I wish I could stay right here forever.

I turn my head back to where Trent’s relaxing, his perfect tattooed arm supporting his head.

“But what about us?” I ask softly. And the furrow of his brow is back. He looks away. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment before looking away.

“I don’t know, Janie,” are his words. “This was never supposed to happen.”

My heart plummets, face flushing hot with shame. And I shouldn’t say the words, but I can’t help it.

“Don’t you want me?” I whisper. “Or is there something wrong?”

His chin snaps my way, that blue gaze flashing as he sits up, grasping my hand firmly.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart,” he rasps hoarsely. “I want you more than anything.”

My heart shakes again.

“So what’s the problem?” is my pathetic mewl.

“I’m afraid of-,” he starts, but doesn’t continue.

“Of what?” I urge him. He sighs heavily.