Love Thy Neighbor (Friend-Zoned #2)

by Belle Aurora

  Still stacking beers, he chuckles, “Never said I was an expert, bud. Look at me. I’m still fucking single.”

  Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. Standing, I begin to pace. “She’s driving me crazy! She’s all spitfire and twister. She makes me do things that I never thought I’d do. Then she tells me she loves me and for once, I don’t wanna run.” Stopping in my trail, I turn to him and state, “I want to make her happy!” Poking myself in the chest and nodding, I tell him, “Me! I want to make a broad happy. And I don’t want anyone else to have her. I told her she was my girl, and now I don’t know what to do. What does that even mean? I think it means something else to her than what it means to me. I want her and I don’t want anyone else to have her, but I have no idea where to go from here.” I beg, “Help me out, Sheriff. Gimme something to work with here.”

  Stefan’s shakes his head and chuckles. “You got it bad, man. I think it’s safe to say you found her.”

  Exasperated, I sigh, “Who?”

  Standing tall, he states, “The one. All of what you just described…sounds like you found her.” Then he asks, “Do you love her?”

  My response saddens even me. “I don’t know what love is.”

  Stefan tilts his head to the side and says quietly, “I’m not an expert or anything, but it sounds like you’re there. And if you’re not, you’re close.”

  Walking over to him, I extend my hand. He takes it with a smile and we shake. Still shaking his hand, I utter, “You tell anyone about this, I’ll kick your ass.”

  Chuckling, he turns away and states, “Yep. That’s what I figured.”

  Walking away, I smile.

  Nope. Stefan the Sheriff is not a bad guy.

  ***

  With Tina and Lola both at the store, Mimi and I decided to do lunch together. It’s been a quiet day so far, but I know as soon as three pm hits, it’s going to be chaos with Safira’s doing its first catalogue sale.

  Tina. My little Teeny. No one ever accused her of doing things half-assed.

  Smart woman that she is, this sale is set to capture the attentions of high school and college kids. She even sent us earlier in the week to local high schools and colleges to hand out catalogues. There was a huge amount of interest. So today will be a good profit day for Tina. Not that she needs it, but the store’s interest is growing and even though she hasn’t said a thing, I’m sure she’s thinking of opening a second store.

  We decide on sushi and sit in front of the conveyor at the bar. The dishes slide past us and we pick out what we want. As soon as I open my mouth to stuff it with California roll, Meems states, “So I haven’t said anything to the others but I know you’re fucking him.”

  Mouth still open, I stuff the sushi in and chew. She searches my face through her bold blue eyes and says, “This is something to you, isn’t it?”

  I don’t say a thing. I chew my Sushi as if it were rubber and match her stare for stare. She whispers, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Finally swallowing, I open my bottle of water to take a sip and tell her straight out, “I’m in love with him.”

  Meems smiles her rare genuine smile and says quietly, “I know.” Playing with her food, she states, “I’m rootin’ for you.”

  Smiling, I nudge her shoulder with mine. I love her for caring enough to say something to me. I love her for believing in me and knowing this is my choice to make.

  This is friendship.

  ***

  Bed. I need my bed.

  Today was a fucker of a day. Safira’s catalogue sale was a hit. From three til seven pm we were running around like headless chickens attending to customers and putting through sales. The racks were almost bare by the time we finished up, and we literally had to kick some people out when the doors were shutting. Even though I’m tired, I’m happy too. This meant something to Tina. Nik kept trying to interfere by offering his marketing team, but Tina wanted this to be hers. Something she did on her own. And she pulled it off. I could see that Nik was impressed. He stayed at the store with us during the sales hours because he wanted to be sure nothing got out of hand for his little pregnant wifey.

  Yuk. They are too sweet.

  Ash came in around six pm and looked around the store with wide eyes. So many women running around and talking, he looked stunned. He threw up his hands at Nik in an I’m out of here gesture and left, but not before winking at me.

  And it gave me the butterflies.

  Ugh, this love shit sucks.

  Dragging my body down the hall to my apartment, I open the door and smile when I see Asher in the kitchen. My body lightens at the very sight of him. He takes away the extra weight on my shoulders. Something smells good. Like, really good. I drop my bag on the floor by the door and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I breathe a sigh of relief and he lifts one of my hands to kiss it.

  Okay, okay. This love shit is not bad…I guess.

  Not taking my arms out from around his waist, I maneuver myself around him so I hug his front. Smiling up at him, I ask in a sing-song voice, “What are you doin’?”

  Flushing a little as he smiles, he states, “Making dinner. Figured you’d be tired after that- that- I don’t even know what the fuck that was, but I was not steppin’ in there. It looked like the Bermuda triangle. You’d never find me again.”

  Laughing softly, I burrow deeper into his chest. I yawn. “I’m so sleepy.”

  With a soft kiss to the head, he utters, “Go have a shower. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Lifting my head with a hopeful smile, I say, “You know what would make me feel better?”

  He looks at me through narrowed eyes, and I bite my lip to stop myself laughing.

  He’ll never go for it.

  ***

  “Get up. I’m gettin’ out.”

  Pushing back against him, I plead, “No! Stay, please! It’s warm and fun.” I end on a whine.

  Ash states matter-of-factly, “Not only is this not fun but there is no fucking way I’m going to get hard in here with a plug in my ass!”

  My head falls back to rest on his chest and laughter bursts out of me. I say through my laughter, “You make it sound like you’re wearing a butt plug!”

  He utters, “Butt plug. Bath plug. Both are things I don’t want in or around my ass.” He shifts around and I burst into laughter again. “That’s it! I’m gone.”

  Chuckling, I apologize, “I’m sorry. Really. Please don’t go. I like this. All wet and warm and relaxed.”

  Okay, so I may have seriously misjudged the size of my bath. It sounded fun at the time and I am having fun, but all my laughter is coming from Asher’s expense. Poor guy. His legs are so long that he’s had to hook them over the sides of the tub so we can both fit in properly. I’m all nice and warm, snuggling back into his chest and I’m sure that his legs are freezing.

  I’m a bad non-girlfriend.

  After a few more minutes of snuggling, I tell him, “Okay, let’s get out.” As I stand, I warn him, “Just so you know, I’m really damn tired so I don’t think you’re getting lucky tonight.”

  Still in the tub, I turn to face him. His eyes darken as he watches the droplets of water sluice down my naked body. He mutters, “Why do I feel lucky then?” and swipes his thumb across my nipple, causing a jolt in my belly. I scoff as I step out the tub. “Yeah. Like that line ever worked before in your life. C’mon, I’m hungry.”

  I hold out a hand for him to take. He does and I help him out of the tub. I take a large fluffy towel and start to wipe his body. He looks down at me through furrowed brows and I flush.

  Okay. He obviously doesn’t like that.

  Dipping my chin in embarrassment, I say, “Sorry. Here-” I move to hand him the towel but he pushes my hand away, wraps his strong arms around me, wrapping me up tight, and lowers his soft, warm lips to mine. Kissing me long and slow for what seems like forever, I’m officially horny. His tongue dances with mine. He groans into my mouth when I n
ip his tongue softly. I move closer to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away from me and I almost pout.

  Looking into my eyes, he smiles. “Let’s eat, babe.”

  We both dress in our jammies and for the first time ever, Ash doesn’t wear a shirt. I like looking at him. I see past his scars to his firm, sculpted abs and my core leaks happy tears. It makes my heart squeeze in agony to think of what he possibly went through, but no one should feel ashamed of their body. Definitely not one this fine.

  In a show of silent support, I move over to him, wrap my arms around him and place a soft, wet kiss on his chest. He dishes up the pasta he cooked and it looks as good as it smells.

  We sit and I try some of the pasta. And it’s really good. Smiling over at him, I say, “You never said you could cook.”

  Picking up his fork, he smirks. “Never asked, pretty girl.”

  His newest phone vibrates on the counter and I lift it without permission.

  Grace calling.

  I pull the phone closer to me and lower it. It vibrates every other second through our awkward silence. Ash looks at the phone through empty eyes. I don’t know who this woman is, but she’s causing shit for my man and making him angry-sad.

  I’ll cut a bitch!

  The phone stops vibrating and I push it back to the middle of the table. “Didn’t want you breaking another one,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.

  He resumes eating and says quietly, “Thanks.”

  No longer hungry, I pick at my food for a while longer before standing to take my dish to the sink.

  Just ask him. Ask him who Grace is.

  Asher comes to stand behind me and wraps his arms around me. Lowering his mouth to the side of my neck, he asks, “TV or bed?”

  Ask him.

  When I answer, “Bed,” I feel his smile at my neck and I repeat my earlier admission, “I still don’t think you’re getting lucky tonight, buddy.”

  Chickenshit.

  I squeak when he lifts me up and over his shoulder. Smacking my ass so hard it tingles, he says, “I told you, girl. I am lucky.”

  He throws me down onto the bed and I giggle.

  Freeze. Hold the hell up.

  I gasp and Ash chuckles. I whisper, “Did I- I think that was- I can’t believe I just-”

  “I think you just giggled,” he smirks, thoroughly amused.

  Shaking my head, I lie, “No, it wasn’t. I don’t giggle. It was gas.”

  Ash throws his head back and laughs hard. I can’t help but laugh with him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Only you would think that giggling is worse than farting.” Shaking his head, he mutters, “Too damn cute.”

  He pulls me down next to him and wraps me tight. I peck kisses onto his chest, neck and chin. Feeling brave, I ask quietly, “You think you’ll ever be up to telling me what happened to you?”

  Rather than answering the question, he pulls me tighter to him and sighs. “When I was eight, my dad lost his job. And it was a good job. He was high up in some lending company, sort of like a bank. We always had money. Mom and Dad both came from money, so it was expected we’d stay that way. Well, shit happens. People lose their jobs every day, but my dad started drinking. A lot. There’s not a memory I have that doesn’t include him drunk as fuck or lying somewhere in his own vomit. He’d been drinking all day. It was my birthday and I was working on my bike in the garage. Dad comes down and…”

  He stiffens and I know something’s happening.

  I raise my head to look up at him. His brows are furrowed and his eyes vacant.

  My heart races. I’m suddenly scared.

  Putting my hand to his forehead, I ask quietly, “Baby, talk to me. What’s happening here?”

  “He was a bad man,” he whispers almost childlike.

  And my heart breaks.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Memories

  Eight years old…

  “The fuck you think you’re doing, boy?” His words sound funny. Like he’s falling asleep.

  My stomach twists. I’m nervous.

  He’s been drinking the brown stuff again. I tried it once when he was sleeping outside. It’s not nice. It made me cough a lot. My throat felt like it was burning. I didn’t like it.

  I tell him, “Fixing my chain, sir.”

  He wobbles over, knocking things down on the way. He looks funny. I try to hold my laugh but the smile breaks free. He spits through slurred words, “You think this is funny? You got grease everywhere. Who’s gonna clean this up?”

  I nod and say, “I will, sir. As soon as I’m done.”

  “So I suppose you want me to say happy birthday to you, son.” His tone is sharp. I avoid his eyes and keep working on my bike chain. I don’t like him when he’s like this. I try to hide the bottle or pour it down the sink, but he always knows it’s me. I don’t like when he hits me. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward, booming, “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!”

  My lip quivers as I look up at him. “Yes, sir.”

  Through gritted teeth, he says, “You were the worst mistake of my life, Asher. I prayed to God that your mother would have a miscarriage. I knew you’d be no good. I was right. You’re just a bad seed. You’re nothing and you never will be. Mark my words, boy. Aim low. So low that you can reach the crumbs that drop on the ground. That’s all you’ll be. Scum crawling on the floor. A beggar.”

  Tears pour out of my eyes. When he notices, he becomes aggravated. “Stop that, boy.”

  But I can’t, I silently sob. I know he doesn’t like the noise. With every hiccup I see his blood boil hotter. A minute passes and he warns, “You don’t shut that mouth of yours, you’re gonna get it.”

  It makes me cry harder and shake. I’m scared. When he stands and pulls up his sleeves, I want to scream for help. I know it’s no use, though. Momma wouldn’t come. I close my eyes and wait for the hit but it doesn’t come. Calming slightly, I open my eyes and see his empty, cold eyes staring back at me. He mutters, “I warned you.”

  Then he steps forward, takes my arm and bends it back at the elbow. I yell out and cry. It hurts so much. He keeps bending. My body shakes like electricity runs through it. The pain is so strong. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep. I scream until my voice is hoarse. I hear it. I hear the snap. Something in my body takes over and I don’t feel a thing anymore.

  I fall to the floor on my knees before looking up at my dad through blurry eyes. I see his smirk. “That’ll teach ya…little fucker…waste of space…fucking useless,” he says.

  He walks out of the garage and finally, I sleep.

  ***

  “I think he needs to go to the hospital, honey.” Mom sits near me on my bed and bathes my forehead with a cool towel.

  I think I might burst into fire soon. I don’t think I should be this hot. It feels like someone left me out in the sun to bake.

  Dad stands at the door glaring at my mom. He says, “He’s fine. Always attention seeking.”

  Mom looks down at me, her eyes sad. She whispers, “We need to take him to the hospital. His fever spiked last night and it’s not coming down, Robbie. He’s going to die if we don’t do something.”

  Dad straightens at the door and walks away muttering, “Good riddance.”

  ***

  Ten years old…

  The rain pounds hard on the roof. It’s always weather like this that makes it sore.

  I rub the long six-inch scar on my left arm. It twinges but I’m used to it.

  The black eye he gave me last night holds most of my attention anyways. When I walked in on him wailing on mom, I lost it. Jumped on his back and tore him off of her. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but mom loves him. Really loves him. Why? I have no idea. He’s a shitty husband and a shittier father.

  I told him if he was gonna pick on anyone, it would be me and I’d take it without a word.

  I think I struck a deal with the devil. I don’t care what you call it. I have to watch out for my mom. I love her. She’s goo
d to me. Always makes sure I’m okay and not hurt too bad. She sneaks into my room at night and tells me how lucky we are to have each other, that most families don’t have mothers and sons that are as close as we are. I like when she hugs me and plays with my hair.

  I know she’s trying to make the situation sound better than what it is, but that’s what moms do, right? As long as she keeps looking after me, everything will be okay.

  ***

  Twelve years old…

  Coach saw the bruises yesterday. I told him I got them when I went to my cousin’s farm last week. I think I was pretty convincing, even though I don’t have any cousins or know anyone who owns a farm. Coach looked at me for a long while.

  Please don’t call my dad.

  Shit. If he calls dad, I’ll get another round tonight, and last time I stayed out to avoid it, he beat mom.

  “Come on, Coach. Don’t get me in trouble for chasing the pigs,” I say.

  Chuckling, Coach replies, “You’re a good kid, Asher, but you’ve got to be more careful. You’re a great addition to the team.”

  Dad beat me that night anyways. He was drinking again. He drinks all the time. He yells a lot, and when he’s not yelling, he’s sleeping. He smells bad. I don’t think he’s had a shower in months. I try to hold my breath when he’s near me because the smell makes me want to throw up.

  He got me good. Broke my nose. I’m getting used to keeping painkillers in my school bag. I always take a few before I come home, just in case. I’m nervous about going home tonight. Last night was the first night he told me to fight back. I think he was shocked when I did. Got him in the jaw a few times and pushed him back into the bookcase.

  As soon as he was down, I ran to my room. I locked the door and jumped out of the window. I’d rather be out in the rain than home with him.

  Tomorrow I’ll quit baseball.

  ***

  Thirteen years old…

  “How many fucking times have I told you to keep that shit down?”

  I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tight. My chest heaves and tears run out of the sides of my eyes. It hurts more when you look at it. I hear my skin sizzle as he presses the metal into my skin. This is his new favorite thing to do. Heating anything metal and burning me with it. Tonight’s choice is a fork.