The Man Next Door: Orchard Heights Book 2 - standalone

by Roya Carmen

  As I shed my winter wear, it dawned on me that it had been exactly a year since our kiss, on my fifteenth birthday. He had been so diligent at keeping a distance between us, that kiss had begun to seem like a dream. More and more, the memory of it faded, and I hated that.

  He welcomed me into his living room. The wood stove was going and Aerosmith was playing in the background, not too loudly. Janie’s Got A Gun.

  I sat down on his sofa, and before long, he handed me a mug of hot chocolate. “I put some Baileys in there.”

  My eyes grew wide at the revelation.

  “You’re sixteen now,” he pointed out. “A little Baileys won’t kill you.”

  I ventured a sip, eager to taste. It was good, the usual hot chocolate taste with a little extra something. “I like it.”

  He grinned. “Don’t like it too much.”

  “I promise I won’t,” I told him. I would always be careful around alcohol. With both my parents being heavy drinkers (alcoholics, some might say), I would always be very cautious.

  He settled next to me. “So how’s your birthday been so far? How does it feel to be sixteen?”

  “All right,” I said. “Izzie came over with some gifts. We had a good laugh.” I didn’t tell him about my dad and brothers forgetting my birthday. I didn’t want his pity.

  He smiled. “Well, I’m not sure if she’s a good influence on you, but a good friend is priceless.”

  “For sure.”

  Our gazes fixed each other’s for a long beat. Was that what we were? Friends? Or were we more?

  “Speaking of which, as your friend, I’ve got something for you.”

  I sat up straighter, excited. “You do?”

  He rose and headed to the kitchen, and pulled out a red box from the cabinet. “Okay, you close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

  I smiled and obliged. “Sure.”

  I was pretty sure a birthday cake was coming, as it had the previous year. I pictured another store-bought cake, perhaps a vanilla one this time. My stomach was as eager as I was.

  “Okay… you can open your eyes.”

  I was surprised to see a box of eight donuts, topped with sixteen candles. Sprinkles, Boston Cream, powdered sugar, honey glaze… all my favorites. It was so sweet, in more ways than one.

  “I love it!”

  “Make a wish,” he urged.

  Another kiss from Gavin. I blew out the candles, and smiled up at him. “Can you guess what I wished for?”

  “You can’t tell me or it won’t happen,” he pointed out. “Help yourself.”

  I reached for a pink sprinkled one, similar to the one on my necklace, and closed my eyes as I indulged.

  I opened my eyes, expecting him to have a mouth full of donut too. But he was just sitting there, watching me. His expression lit me ablaze. It held such love, such desire, such pain. I wanted to reach out to him right then, but I was frozen. I didn’t have the courage to throw myself at him, fearing that he would reject me again. I didn’t want to ruin what we had — this beautiful friendship.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  I was motionless, speechless. He’d never told me I was beautiful before. No one had ever told me I was beautiful before.

  “You’ve always been pretty,” he went on. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most adorable thing. You were sweet. Still are…”

  Still no words from me. His revelation had robbed me of the ability to speak.

  “But now… you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, Abigail.”

  I blushed. My heart was beating a mile a minute, but I finally managed a, “Thank you,” offered in a soft whisper.

  Kiss me, I wanted to scream.

  I leaned in ever so slightly, not able to help myself. The pull was just so strong, so powerful. I desperately needed to taste his lips again, and touch his skin.

  He turned from me just as I leaned in. “I have something else for you.”

  He walked to the living room, and reached into the side table where he kept an old Reader’s Digest, a few remotes and a hodgepodge of useless things — I’d peeked in there before. He pulled out a small blue velvet box.

  He handed it to me with a sweet smile. My heart pounded as I took it from his hands. He watched me in anticipation and my pulse raced at the excitement of it all. My breath hitched as I flipped open the lid and saw the sparkling silver chain and pendant. The heart pendant was etched with a pretty design and held my birthstone, amethyst.

  “It’s beautiful.” I had no other words. I was too stunned. No one had ever given me anything so special.

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure… the lady at the store helped me pick it out.” My heart swelled at the thought of him picking this out for me. “I see you’re already wearing a necklace. That’s cute.”

  I glanced down at the donut Friends pendant. “Yeah, Izzie gave it to me earlier today.”

  “She’s a good friend, isn’t she?”

  I nodded.

  He took the small box from my hands. “Turn around.”

  I whipped around faster than you can say ‘Yes, Sir.’ I grabbed a hold of my long hair, twirled it around and held it on top of my head, exposing the nape of my neck.

  I waited patiently as he fiddled with the necklace, and finally when I felt the soft touch of his rough hands on my collarbone, I closed my eyes, and warmth filled me. He was gentle as he worked the clasp. “All done,” he whispered.

  I turned to face him, and he had never been more beautiful to me; happy, excited. I wanted to stamp the vision of his face in my brain forever, never to be forgotten.

  “It’s your sweet sixteen… I figured it should be special.”

  I thought about my dad and my brothers who had completely forgotten, and I couldn’t rein in my emotions any longer. Gavin was right. A sweet sixteen should be special. I was so thankful for him. My nose stung and my throat burned as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to be strong.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked and those two simple words broke me to pieces. I fell into sobs, and he wrapped his arms around me without a word.

  He held me for what seemed like an eternity, and I cried on his shoulder. I held on tighter than I should have, not wanting to let go. I breathed in his distinctive fresh scent of soap and man. I pulled my head from his shoulder and brushed my cheek against his, reveling in the rough texture of his trimmed beard.

  “Abigail…” he whispered.

  I wanted this. I needed this. We both did.

  When I brushed my lips against his, he didn’t push me away. I rubbed my face against his like an eager kitten. My hungry mouth furtively searched for his. When it finally found it, he was too weak to fight me off. Our little dance increased the tension.

  When his mouth finally settled against mine, I felt it in my entire core, from my chest, down to the tip of my toes. I couldn’t stop myself then. I’d lost control, and so had he. My mouth eagerly opened for his, and his sweet tongue explored mine. His labored breathing aroused me. He craved this as much as I did. I’d never quite understood all this talk I’d heard about sex before, but in that moment, it finally made sense.

  He felt so good.

  A pained growl escaped his lips and he tore himself away, pressing both his large hands on my shoulders. “We need to stop,” he breathed. He clearly didn’t want to stop, but something stronger than his desire for me was making him push me away.

  “We need to stop this,” he repeated, more sternly this time. He was still breathless and completely worked up. His mouth was wet, his eyes dark. It hurt… so much. I just wanted to kiss him. Was that so much to ask for?

  “I’m sixteen now, Gavin,” I pointed out. “There’s nothing wrong with this. I’m of legal age. I researched it. In the state of Michigan, age of consent is sixteen, unless one of the people is in a place of authority, like a teacher or something, which you aren’t.”

  I eagerly awaited his response, studying every
inch of his face for clues. His shoulders were hunched, his mouth a straight line. The tall strong man I knew had collapsed in the face of ‘doing what was right’. It was ridiculous.

  “Do you think you’d be taking advantage of me?” I asked. “Because I’m so young?”

  He didn’t say a word, just stared at the carpet and shook his head.

  “You wouldn’t,” I told him. “I’m old enough to know what I want, Gavin. And I want you. I need you. You’re the only one who cares about me.”

  His gaze lifted to mine. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I do care about you. I love you, kid.”

  My heart swelled, so big I thought it might burst. I threw my arms around him. “I love you too, Gavin… so much.”

  He pushed me away again, holding me at arm’s length. “You’re still too young.”

  I blew out a breath of irritation. “I’m not as innocent as you might think,” I scoffed.

  He cocked a brow. “Really?”

  I crossed my arms and didn’t say a word, making him mull it over for a few seconds. Maybe I’d been around. What did he know? I spent my days with the infamously promiscuous Izzie after all. She could have very well rubbed off on me.

  Concern traced his features and made him look ten years older. “Are you telling me you’re not a virgin anymore?” he asked. “Who have you been with?”

  I smiled. “That’s a very inappropriate question to ask me, Mr. Foster.”

  He inhaled a long breath, clearly unsettled.

  “I haven’t been with anyone,” I finally confessed. “I haven’t even kissed anyone but you.”

  Relief washed over him, and a whisper of a smile traced his lips.

  “I want you to be my first,” I told him. “Wouldn’t that be better than one of these park boys? They’re all jerks. All they care about is having sex, and bragging about it. Paul told everyone about Izzie after they did it,” I went on, eager to sell my point. “He told them that he popped her cherry. Izzie cried for two days straight.”

  He nodded slowly, considering my words.

  “I won’t be with any of them,” I promised. “If it’s not you, then I won’t be having sex until college. Or maybe I’ll go to the convent and become a nun.”

  He laughed. “You better work on that potty mouth of yours if you want to go to the convent, kid.”

  I smile. “What? I barely curse, just the occasional F word.”

  “Well, you’re too pretty to utter those ugly words.”

  “I get it from my dad and brothers,” I pointed out. “You hear something over and over, and it becomes part of your vocabulary.”

  He sighed. “I know.” He knew that I didn’t belong there, in that trailer with three men who couldn’t have cared less about me.

  “You should go,” he said quietly. “Happy Birthday.”

  My heart sank.

  He took my hand in his, like a caring father might. “I need to think about all this, Abigail. You and me… maybe we could be something. I just need to wrap my head around it, that’s all.”

  My heart rose again. My pulse sped. He was giving us a chance.

  Maybe we could be something.

  He pulled me off the sofa and walked me to the door. He grabbed the box of donuts and handed it to me. I knew I’d have to hide it in my room. The last thing I wanted was to answer my dad’s probing questions. I slid the blue velvet box in my jacket pocket and said goodbye with a heavy heart.

  I stepped out, and walked home feeling hopeful.

  25

  I’ve got everything set up, and I’m a ball of nerves. We’re having our weekly coffee get-together at my place today. But that’s not the reason I’m nervous. I host about once a month. I love having my friends over. My loft is not as neat as Mischa’s or Gretchen’s, not quite as eclectic as Claudia’s, but it’s all mine. And I make the best muffins.

  I stare at the spread on the coffee table; blueberry muffins, scones and strawberry jam from the market, a selection of teas and coffee pods for my Keurig.

  It’s the usual scene. The reason I’m so nervous today is because I’m inviting a special guest. The girls are finally going to meet Noah.

  They know all the details, as good girlfriends usually do. They know that we’re sleeping together, that we’re getting more serious every day. They also know that I’m cautious, like I’ve always been. I’m cautious of love, of getting hurt. They probably suspect that I don’t quite trust Noah not to hurt me.

  I’m trying to let myself go, fall into this new relationship without the usual worries and anxiety. But something is holding me back.

  The doorbell buzzes, that familiar tone all the lofts at Orchard Heights have. I bounce over to the door, eager to see who my first guest will be. I’m half hoping it’s Noah. It would be nice for him to already be here when everyone arrives.

  When I swing the door open, Gretchen’s sweet face greets me. And right beside her is Ethan. He’s hugging her leg, his face pressed against her thigh. The boy is shy, not quite two. “They sometimes make strange at this age,” she tells me.

  “Come in,” I urge.

  “Sorry, Anette had a dentist appointment.” Anette is a sweet elderly lady who babysits Ethan occasionally.

  “No worries,” I kneel down to Ethan. “I’m glad to have Ethan over. Hey buddy, remember that basket of toys I have for you. You want to play with them again?”

  He nods shyly and I dash over to my den where I keep the basket in my closet. I’ve collected lots of toys for Ethan this past year. Claudia and I like to browse the garage sales in the neighborhood on Saturday mornings. She’s usually searching for eclectic art, vintage finds, and stuff for her set designs. I’m on the lookout for toys, old comic books and anything I find interesting.

  Ethan is all smiles when I reappear with his basket of toys. He settles quietly on the floor with the wooden puzzles and hodgepodge of noisy toys. In my haste in acquiring his toy collection, I never stopped to consider how loud some of them are.

  “What can I get you today?”

  “Uh…” She watches Ethan play. “Do you have any Chai tea. I need to relax. Ethan has been up since six. He’s due for a nap.”

  “He can sleep on the sofa in the den,” I tell her. “He liked it last time.”

  Just as I’m preparing her tea, the doorbell buzzes again. I abandon Gretchen’s cup of tea to dash to the door. I welcome both Claudia and Mischa in. Mischa looks adorable in fitted capris and a pretty blouse. Claudia wears a long tunic over dark leggings. As we exchange quick hugs, I spot Noah stepping out of his apartment. He shoots us a wide smile.

  I quickly make the introductions. Claudia shoots me a perked brow, communicating her approval. Yes, Noah is hot. Tell me something I don’t know, Claudia.

  I introduce him to Gretchen when we walk in to the living room. He settles on the sofa and answers a barrage of questions from the girls. How long have you been here? How do you like it here at Orchard Heights? Where are you from originally? What do you do? I hear you write songs and jingles. All very acceptable non-invasive questions.

  But from Claudia… So you and Abby are a thing now? How old are you anyway? How tall are you? Six foot two?

  I shake my head, smiling a little.

  Gavin and I had been seeing each other for a few months since my birthday. By seeing each other, I really do mean seeing only. He wouldn’t let me anywhere near him. If we played Scrabble, we played at the kitchen table. If we chatted, it was in two different chairs, me on the sofa, him in his Lazy Boy. I made sure to tell him how grown up I’d become every chance I got. I’d gotten my license with the help of my brother Jake. He surprisingly had been kind enough to take me out for a few lessons. I’d gotten a job at the local movie theatre. And I’d even started to think about my future. I thought I might want to be a nurse.

  “You’d be an amazing nurse,” Gavin told me. “You take care of people.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I’d always taken care of people. My mother, when she was
too drunk to take care of us. My dad, my brothers. I cleaned the house and cooked meals… simple things like spaghetti and bolognese sauce from a jar, canned chili and macaroni, frozen pizza, or chicken fingers and fries. I thanked the Lord for frozen and canned foods. It kept us alive.

  I worked relentlessly to worm my way back into his arms again, to show him that we weren’t that different at all. In some ways, I was more mature than he was.

  And to that end, we eventually found ourselves on the sofa together, talking about sex. He knew I was still a virgin, still waiting for him. I’d told him about the invitations I’d received from boys my age, all of them declined. He smiled and didn’t encourage me to accept any of them. I wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to keep me all to himself, or if it was because he didn’t think these immature boys were worthy of me. It was probably a little bit of both.

  “I like how it feels,” I confided in a whisper.

  He shifted on the sofa. “How what feels?”

  “When I touch myself,” I said quietly.

  He blew out a breath, and didn’t say a thing.

  “I’ve been doing it for a while,” I went on. No one knew this secret, save for Izzie of course. She was the one who urged me to do it in the first place. “It feels so nice. Sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like if it was your hands touching me.”

  That’s when he shot up from the sofa, like a jack-in-the-box. I bounced up too, and grabbed his arms. “Stop it,” I pleaded. “Stop walking away from me. You want this as much as I do, and I’m of age now. There’s nothing fucking wrong here.”

  He closed his eyes for a long second, and I was sure he was about to dismiss me, but when he opened them again, he reached out and grabbed the back of my head. I was stunned, motionless. He brought me to him, and pressed his hot mouth against mine. My lower belly tightened as desire pooled inside me, and I fully surrendered. Our tongues and hands danced. We pawed each other like wild animals. As his mouth swept across mine, the stubble of his jaw scratched my skin. His hands were rough but his touch was soft.

  I wanted more. I raised a leg and wrapped it around him, wanting no space separating us. He grabbed my ass and lifted me up tighter against him. I felt his desire for me, and it both scared me and thrilled me.