The Boy Next Door

That said, I had to admit that my new neighbor was more than I had bargained for. I didn’t know what I had expected—I guess just some older, washed-up rock star with no life. Maybe some guy who was so drugged up or wasted that he didn’t even know what time it was.

He seemed sober, though. Moreover, he was hot, a lot hotter than I could have expected. He had jet-black hair that was just a bit sweaty, just enough that it stood up in spikes as though he had run a hand back through it while he was on his way to answer the door. He had piercing blue eyes, and when he folded his arms across his chest, no doubt in response to my own posture, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos that spiraled along his skin.

He was wearing a T-shirt and sweats, but I could only imagine from the breadth of his shoulders that he must be in good shape. I suppose a drummer would have to be, I thought.

Not that I was giving him any passes for keeping me up all night.

“I’m trying to work right now,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me, a challenge on his face. “Anyway, I pay to live here. Mr. Lake doesn’t care if I make noise, so I hardly see how it’s any of your concern.”

I threw my hands in the air. “It’s my concern because I pay to live here too!” I snapped. “And who the hell is Mr. Lake?”

I didn’t miss the way the drummer’s eyes darted down to my cleavage, where my robe had come open. I huffed and closed it. Boys.

“Mr. Lake is my neighbor,” the man said as though I hadn’t just caught him leering at me. “He lives over there.”

“No, I live over there,” I said, connecting the dots. “I don’t know what happened to the last tenant, but I live there now, and I don’t appreciate the noise. So knock it off.” With that, I turned on my heel and marched back to my apartment.

Let him start drumming again. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I would call the police to file a noise complaint.

He didn’t start back up, though. It was finally quiet. Something still kept me from sleeping, though.

It was partly that I was nervous about my big day tomorrow. It was such a leap of faith, moving to LA from my small hometown in Illinois. There was something about my new neighbor that reminded me that I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t trying to be a movie star or a musician or anything like that, but I had moved here to work for a big entertainment company.

Granted, I’d be an accountant. That was something that I was good at. I had proven myself in a string of internships while I was in college, and I knew that I had found what I was good at. What’s more, I was excited for the company that I’d be working for. I knew that I would have the chance to excel at my job, and I had a feeling that I might have the chance to move up in the company chain.

Still, all of that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried that I might have made the wrong choice. I didn’t know anyone here, and life was so different from life back in my quiet Midwestern town.

It’s a good thing I don’t scare easily, I thought.

I’d just have to take things one step at a time. The job wouldn’t be that scary once I started it. I knew that. And living in LA wouldn’t be as stressful once I made some friends.

My thoughts drifted back from work to the handsome drummer who lived next door. His drumming, while obnoxious for the hour, had been pretty decent. The guy probably knew the music scene pretty well. I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. Maybe I could get him to show me around.

I grimaced and rolled over, as though rolling over could shield me from those thoughts. Instead, my train of thought continued: I had probably ruined my chances of getting to know the guy any better with everything tonight.

For a moment, I felt a flash of guilt and disappointment. This wasn’t the way that I wanted my LA chapter to begin. I didn’t want him to think I was some uptight hick with a stick up my ass. No going back now, though.

In any case, it wasn’t like I needed to be distracted by rocker bad boys. I was there to further my career. When I did have the time to date, it wasn’t going to be a man who stayed up all night banging on drums; it was going to be someone quiet and steadfast. Someone who wanted a family and someone who was dependable. Someone considerate, most of all.