My Enemy Next Door

by Nicole London

I love you (and I’m never “leaving” you),

  Jace

  SUBJECT: RE: RE: HAPPY Monday!

  OMG Yes! Just let me know the dates, and I’m there!

  I love you more, and I’ll never leave you either,

  Court

  E.N.E.M.Y.

  M is for MALICE, AGAIN

  (It also stands for mistake, which is unfortunately what my relationship with Jace Kennedy was all along.)

  Courtney: Back Then

  Eight weeks later

  I’M PACKING MY BAGS to see Jace, even though I’m mad at him for not coming home for the holidays like he swore he would. I’m making sure that I have his Christmas gifts tucked tightly at the bottom of my suitcase, and that I bring his yearbook. I have yet to finish writing the love letter at the back of it, but I’m hoping the train ride will give me a chance to do so.

  We’re officially down to two phone calls a week—if we’re lucky, and they’re basically laundry lists of what we’ve done. There’s no conversation anymore, and I’ve stopped writing “PS—Call me” at the bottom of my emails because it doesn’t really make a difference.

  I’m hoping that one weekend of being around him will make me see that he’s just been busy, and that the two of us are going to make it for the long-haul.

  “Court?” My cousin Amy walks into my bedroom and hands me a pack of condoms. “Did you pack these for your trip? I’m sure you’ll need as many boxes as you can get since you haven’t seen him in a while.”

  I stuff the condoms into my dresser drawer. Sex is the last thing that me and Jace need to do this weekend. We just need to talk. That’s it.

  “Oh? So, you two are not having sex anymore?”

  “It’s kind of hard to have sex when you’re in two separate cities.” I sit on my bed. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, so it’s just hard.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shrugs. “Shit happens. That’s why you’re not supposed to date a guy who is in college if you’re in high school. It’s a completely different world, and from the way your boyfriend looks, I’m pretty sure he’s keeping himself busy with plenty of girls on campus.”

  “Jace would never cheat on me. He’s been really busy these days, but he loves me.”

  “I’m sure he does love you.” She smirks, and I’m tempted to slap it off her face, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to these days. “But he’s probably still fucking someone else.”

  “We used to have plenty of sex.” I hate her right now, and she’s absolutely wrong. “All the time. Like, multiple times a day.”

  “Keyword: Used to.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “But you know what, little cousin, I’m going to do a little investigating, just for you today. She pulls up a site called Facebook.”

  “What’s Facebook?”

  “It’s a site just for college students. They’re talking about opening it up for everyone someday, but for now, only college students with the .edu address can have one.”

  “It’s a hookup site?”

  “No, it’s just a way to meet up with other college people and post pictures and post events and stuff.” She taps her screen. “So Jace goes to Central University, but what’s his last name again?”

  “Kennedy.”

  She types in his name and his picture comes onto the screen. My heart speeds up at the very sight of him in his Central hoodie, at the sexy ass dimples in his cheeks.

  It instantly fades away the second she clicks on his profile, and I see pictures of his social life, though. In every single picture, his arm is around a girl that is not me. A blonde. A brunette. A redhead.

  He’s laughing and smiling as he and a girl share a cup of coffee with two long straws. He’s posing next to a poster of James Dean outside a liquor store and hundreds of comments are telling him what I’ve already told him a million times. (He looks better.) And in multiple shots, he’s sitting on a park bench—staring at his phone. The very phone that he can’t fucking call me on for five to ten minutes a day.

  He doesn’t have many “statuses” up—apparently those are ways these Facebook people tell everyone what they’re doing and who they’re hanging out with all the time, but the pictures say enough.

  I feel tears falling down my face and I feel like a fool.

  “Oh, god. I’m—” Amy takes the phone away from me. “I’m so sorry, Courtney. I know you said you loved him, but I didn’t know it was enough to make you cry. I would’ve never shown you that if I knew.” She keeps apologizing and handing me Kleenex, trying to take back her words. She says the pictures don’t mean anything, that Jace could go without having sex just like me, and I should give him a chance to explain.

  The damage is already done, though.

  I’m still going to board the train to see him this weekend, and I’m still going to finish writing him that yearbook letter I promised. But it’s not going to be a love letter anymore. This letter is going to say goodbye.

  E.N.E.M.Y.

  Y is for YOU

  (As in I love you, Courtney, and I want to be with you...)

  Jace: Back Then

  COLLEGE IS NOTHING like what I thought it would be, and if I’d known this shit was going to be this fucking miserable, I would’ve gone to the college in Blue Harbor. Since my parents aren’t real estate tycoons or business owners, I have to work three jobs just to stay afloat, and my bills are on a rotating off and on schedule.

  I pay my phone bill two weeks late to cover my groceries, using the extra cash to send Courtney small things home. Twice, I’ve had to cancel my plans to go home and see her because an asshole professor decided to tell me about a new book I needed to buy for a class. And for some reason, in college, the price of a book starts at two hundred dollars.

  I want to tell her how much I’m struggling financially, how much I miss her and not these fake ass college “friends” who are obsessed with posting on this dumbass site called Facebook and making it seem like we’re closer than we really are.

  I don’t want her to worry about me at all, though. I want her to enjoy her senior year as much as possible.

  Even though we don’t talk as much, and I don’t email her back as often as I should (I’m still not used to only getting five hours of sleep a night), I’m looking forward to seeing her when she comes up via train this month.

  I’m going to tell her that I’m considering moving back home and going to college in Blue Harbor to be closer to her, and that, after being inspired by my current ethics classes, maybe pursuing career in law.

  As much as I love acting, I can’t see myself staying in this major for four whole years. I need to make money, and I need to get out of school and pursue a career with guaranteed income. Not dreams of income.

  I write down the rest of my thoughts on a napkin—making sure they’re as thought out as they can be for Courtney since she’ll have a million questions, and then I walk to Addison and Macy. The top gift shop on campus.

  “Hello there, Mr. Kennedy.” The owner smiles at me as soon as I walk in. “Is your girlfriend still coming into town this weekend?”

  “She is.”

  “Well son,” he says, walking over to me and handing me a gift for Courtney. “Never in all my years of working on this campus, has someone come to me and said, ‘Can I work fifty hours for free, to buy my girlfriend a gift.’” He hands me the pink box. “You must really love this girl.”

  “I really do.”

  E.N.E.M.Y.

  Y is for YOU

  (As in you left me Courtney. For no fucking reason.)

  Jace: Back Then

  I MAKE SURE TO GET to the train station an hour before Courtney is set to arrive. I’ve made sure that my roommate will be gone the entire weekend so we can have the room to ourselves, made a dinner reservation at a place I know she’ll love, and I’ve written an apology about not being there for her as much as I was in Blue Harbor.

  When the train pulls into the station, I expect her to be one of the first people to get of
f, but she’s not. It takes over twenty minutes for her to step off, and she doesn’t look happy to see me at all.

  She looks as if she’s been crying.

  “Court?” I walk over to her and pull her into my arms. “Court, what’s wrong?”

  “Jace...”

  I keep my arms around her until she stops, and then I lead her over to a bench. “Do you want to talk about this here or in my room?”

  “I’m not going back to campus with you.” Her voice cracks.

  “What do you mean?”

  She shakes her head and her red and puffy eyes meet mine. “I spent the last of my money on a return trip that leaves in an hour, so I won’t be staying. I’ll find a way to pay you back for the ticket you bought, though.”

  “Court, you’re not making any sense. You just got here. Literally. Did someone back home die or something?”

  “No.” She turns away from me, looking straight ahead. “You left me, Jace, and I can’t pretend that this is going to work for me anymore.”

  “Courtney, what the hell are you talking about?” I stand up and move in front of her, so she can see my face. “How did I leave you if I’m standing right here?”

  “I’m sorry I ever trusted you.” She shakes her head. “You can’t even answer a phone call or a text message.”

  “I can explain that.”

  “I’m sure you can.” She shrugs and pulls my yearbook out of her bag. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to call me to do it since I have to board now, but...Since we both know you’re averse to calling me, I won’t hold my breath.”

  I grab her hand as she walks away. “Courtney, what the fuck? Please tell me this is some type of goddamn joke.”

  “Am I laughing?” She snatches her hand away from me and rushes past the boarding line before I can catch her.

  Beyond pissed, I’m confused as fuck. And I can feel something painful happening to the muscles in my chest.

  I take several deep breaths and try to think of what the hell could’ve happened between the time she agreed to come here and now, and I can’t think of anything. I also can’t believe that she would fucking hurt me like this when she knows just how much she means to me.

  Maybe she doesn’t care.

  Maybe she found someone else.

  Refusing to even consider that second thought, I return to the bench and call Courtney’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail. I call again and again and I get the same result.

  It’s not until the damn train leaves the station that I finally get the hint.

  Sighing and unable to deal with the unfamiliar pain in my chest, I open my yearbook and see that she’s left me a short note.

  DEAR JACE,

  It’s over.

  I clearly can’t trust you, and you clearly don’t love me. You promised not to “leave” me, and you did, so please don’t try to deny it. I’ve been trying to make us work—all by myself, for months and it’s clear that you don’t want the same thing. It’s clear that you’ve moved on and we’re in different places in our lives. (I can’t believe I bought into you saying you could see yourself being with me forever. What. A. Joke.)

  Please don’t call me (I won’t answer), and please don’t stop by my house if you come back home to Blue Harbor. (I don’t want to see you anymore)

  PS—You were a cocky, arrogant asshole in high school and I can’t believe I ever fell for you...

  PSS—For the record, you weren’t **that** damn sexy.

  SIXTEEN

  Courtney: Present Day

  I WATCHED JACE’S DEPOSITION for what had to be the hundredth time this week—pausing it each time he got to the part where I left him at the train station with his yearbook. I had no idea he was working three jobs to support himself back then, no idea that he was struggling with loneliness as much as me.

  “So, Courtney...” he said, in the final minute of the tape. “If you’re watching this tape, I just want you to know that this was how things looked from my point of view all those years ago, and that to this day, you’re still my only love and first heartbreak.” He smiled. “But if it’s okay with you, after you tell me your side of things, I’d like us to move on and start over whenever you’re ready. I let you leave me once, but I’m not going to do it again. I love you.” He winks at me and then the tape ends.

  I replayed the entire thing—all thirty minutes of it, one last time.

  Then I picked up my phone and called Jace.

  “Yes, Courtney?” he answered on the first ring.

  “Congratulations on winning the case.”

  “You told me that three hours ago.”

  “I know, but I hadn’t seen any of the pictures yet.” I picked up this morning’s edition of The New York Times from my nightstand and smile at yesterday’s picture of him and Mr. Walton walking outside of the small county’s courthouse. “You were supposed to send me pictures of the celebratory party from last night.”

  “I told you I didn’t go to that.” There was a smile in his voice. “I was too busy talking to you the whole damn time.”

  “Oh, right.” I paused. “How does it feel to win your clients eighty million?”

  “Eighty million? You mean Eight hundred million?” He laughed. “I guess it feels okay since I’ll be getting fifty of it.”

  “Will you share it?”

  “I’ll think about it. Have you finished watching my deposition tape yet?”

  “Your tape?” I smiled. “You mean the ones for the new Lawson case?”

  “I mean the one that you clearly watched half of because you left me fifteen voicemails about your side of the story last night. The one that you must’ve been watching all this weekend on repeat.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  He laughed. “I understand why you felt the way you did, but I’d prefer if we finished this conversation in person. I’ll bring you lunch after I stop by the firm. Mr. Walton said he wanted to see me in his office as I soon as I landed in New York, so I’m on my way there right now. See you soon.”

  “See you soon.” I ended the call and picked up my files for the newest case. I was about three minutes in, when Jace’s words hit me.

  He wanted to see me in his office as soon as I landed in New York...

  I looked at the calendar on my phone. Today was a Friday. The last Friday of the month that was almost always a fire-day.

  Is he seriously going to fire Jace after all the money he’s just made?

  I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I grabbed my umbrella from my headboard and leaned over my bed, hooking the handle of it on my wheelchair. I took my time moving from the bed, down my inflatable ramp, and into the chair.

  Wheeling myself into my closet, I wrapped my neck in two scarves and stuck my arms through a coat backwards since there was no help.

  I made my way to the elevator and straight down to the lobby.

  “Miss Ryan?” The doorman stepped in front of me when I made it to the sidewalk. “Mr. Kennedy has made it perfectly clear that you’re not supposed to leave the building by yourself.”

  “I’m not.” I motioned for my town car driver to help me and he opened the backdoor, slowly helping me onto the backseat. “See? He brought the SUV specifically for my wheelchair.”

  The driver shook his head at me as he secured it. “If Mr. Walton or Mr. Kennedy asks, I wasn’t involved in this.” He shut the door and navigated the car through New York’s snow streets, and when we arrived at the firm, he helped me out of the car and into the elevator.

  “Miss Ryan?” Mr. Walton’s secretary gasped as I wheeled my way into the office. “Mr. Walton said you weren’t supposed to come in for another month or so.”

  “Is he in his office right now?”

  “He is, but—”

  I didn’t wait to hear the rest of her sentence. I rolled my ass right into Mr. Walton’s office—right in front of his desk.

  “What is it with you and Fridays, Mr. Walton?” I asked, blushing when I realized Jace was sitt
ing in the room already. “I know it’s none of my business and that Jace totally flubbed a line in his closing monologue—he said instrumental instead of detrimental, but he’s won one of the biggest class action lawsuits in the state. Why is he in here on a Friday?”

  He blinked. Then he stood up from his desk and laughed, walking over to Jace.

  “Well, well, well, Mr. Kennedy.” He opened the door to his office. “Who knew you could predict the fact that she would try to show up today? I’ll be right back with the town car driver so you can go back home where you belong, Miss Ryan. Then we’ll finish our conversation.”

  He winked and Jace laughed at me.

  “Me saving you from getting fired is funny?”

  “I wasn’t getting fired,” he said. “I’m quitting.”

  “What? Already?” I shook my head. “You just started.”

  “I did, but there’s a huge conflict of interest with someone who has an office right across from me.” He smiled, trailing his finger against my lips. “Dating is a blatant violation of this firm’s rules. It’s also why they’re the best in New York.”

  “So, you’re leaving me?”

  “Not you,” he said. “Just the firm. I’ll still be living next door to you until you decide to move in with me, somewhere else.”

  “You’re saying that as if it’s a given and not a question.”

  “Based on all your voicemails, I think I’m right to assume that you want to start ‘us’ again just like I do.”

  “I also feel like I need you to accept my apology for how I treated you,” I said. “I had no idea about everything you were going through back then. I’m sorry.”

  “I accept, but I’m sorry, too,” he said. “We were young so we didn’t know any better. Now we do.”

  “Well, I only want to start ‘us’ again if it’ll feel the same.”