Right Next Door

by A. J. Pryor

  She seems tense, worried about something as I approach. Her top lip is securely hidden under her straight white bottom teeth and she’s eyeing me as I walk toward her.

  “Loosen up, Addison. I’m not going to bite.” Running my hand along her ponytail, I give it a slight tug before heading down the stairs, assuming she’ll follow. “Unless of course you ask me to.”

  I’m at the bottom of the staircase stretching, and she’s still waiting up top. Where’s the playful girl from ten minutes ago?

  “You coming?”

  Whatever had been bothering her seems to vanish as she puts her smile back on and bounces down to me. “Not yet,” she mumbles as she descends the stairs. It’s clear she was talking to herself, not realizing that her double meaning was loud and echoing in my own ears. I instantly get a semi erection at the image of those intense eyes glossing over in ecstasy, her lips parted and my name falling off her tongue.

  Standing close, she places a hand on my shoulder for support as she grabs her foot to stretch. Her head is right under my chin, her soft scent surrounding me. Gently I hold onto her arms and keep her steady as she changes legs. The urge to lean down and kiss her overwhelms me as I hold her delicate shoulders, her bottom lip secure under her front teeth as she continues to stretch.

  She’s stunning; her long dark hair is pulled back, her eyes deep in concentration on what she’s doing. I want to tell her how beautiful she is, caught up in this moment with her. The words are on the tip of my tongue when she steps back and pats my ass, taking off at a slow jog. I smile to myself and watch her from behind. Next time she touches my ass, I’m kissing her, no questions asked.

  She’s keeping up with me stride for stride as we take off down the beach path. Her breath is coming in gasps, and a sheen of sweat has begun beading on her forehead. I’m barely breaking a sweat, but I’ll get my workout in tomorrow morning at the track, or if I’m lucky, maybe tonight between my sheets. Looking down at her from the corner of my eye, I’m happy to see that she’s now more relaxed.

  “How’s the girlfriend search?”

  I almost trip on that damn tree root.

  “In progress.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” She’s having a hard time talking, winded from our pace and I think I should speed us up further so she can’t talk at all.

  “I’m working on a few prospects at the moment. If any of them pan out I’ll let you know.”

  She rolls her eyes and I want to throw her in the sand and kiss her, make her forget she asked me a question in the first place.

  “Do you always run at night?” she asks between labored breaths. What’s with the twenty questions?

  “No. I’m a morning person.”

  Her eyes dart in my direction, as a curious look crosses her face.

  “You have a dirty mind, Green Eyes.”

  Bumping into me, she argues the topic, barely getting her words out she’s straining so hard. “How do you know,” she takes in a big breath, “what was on my mind?”

  “Everything you think is written all over your face. And for your information, yes, I love the mornings.”

  She stops mid-stride and bends over in laughter, her arms across her midsection as she tries to catch her breath. Suddenly she’s in the sand not even trying to get a handle on the giggles erupting from the depth of her gut. Sand is in her hair and sticks to the sweat that’s covering her skin. Her cheeks were already a rosy color and now they’re turning bright red.

  I sit down beside her, my arms propped up on my knees waiting for her to calm down.

  When she finally gets a handle on herself, she lies flat on her back and stares up at the sky, her eyes suddenly far away, looking like they’re searching for answers to some unasked question. “My ex was a morning person too. I loved it. It’s quiet outside, and still dark in the bedroom. It’s like a secret time where you feel like you’re the only two people on the planet awake and you’re sharing a piece of yourself with each other. A silent communication that only the two of you can understand.”

  Unexpected sadness washes over me listening to Addison long for a situation that clearly doesn’t exist in her life anymore. Whoever her ex is must be a real asshole.

  She deserves better than an asshole.

  She deserves me.

  Picking up her hand, I rest it in my own and sweep my thumb along the lines in her palm. Gently she closes her fingers over mine.

  “Are you still in love with the asshole?”

  Her eyes close and she takes a deep calming breath.

  “I loved him for so long, I don’t know how not to love him anymore.” She hasn’t looked at me and this is the most information she’s ever shared about herself. I know she’s an attorney, she likes to read pornographic romance novels and watch people battle it out on reality shows. She likes my body and she likes ridiculously funny mugs, but life has clearly thrown her a curve ball or two and she’s not sure how to handle it. I’m unapologetically drawn to her and even though I have an eight-year-old girl who needs me more, there has to be room in my life for Addison too.

  “You find someone new to love, Addison. That’s how.”

  She’s silent and I think I’ve lost her, her mind elsewhere. “Have you ever wanted to hit the restart button?” she asks.

  “On life?”

  Her head nods, and the sand underneath her moves in all directions.

  In this moment, I know Addison and I were always supposed to meet. Whether she needs me or I need her, our lives were meant to intersect.

  “Damian, you need to get your shit together. Your soccer career’s gone. Deal with it.” I want to punch Reed in the face. He just barged in my room and is opening all my blinds, the bright sunlight hitting me directly in the eyes.

  “Close the fucking blinds asshole.” I can’t stand the light, would live in the dark if it were possible.

  “Blinds stay open. And it reeks in here. Open a damn window every now and then.”

  Throwing the covers over my face I attempt to go back to sleep.

  “I’m not going to sit back and watch you piss the rest of your life away. Get off your fucking ass. We’re going to the track.”

  I throw the covers back and display my crippled leg, in a splint from my hip down to my toes.

  “Do your arms work?” What the hell is he asking me?

  “I asked you a question. Do your arms work goddammit?”

  Not answering I glare back at him.

  “Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  This feels like the worst idea in the world. I’ve been out of the hospital nine months and while my insides are in perfect working order, I have a completely fucked up leg. The doctor says there will be minimal scarring on the outside, but the inside is a mess. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass to live with. I kicked my mom out more times than I can remember and I heard Reed promise her he’d make sure I didn’t shrivel up and die. But the track? That’s the last place I want to be headed right now.

  “Get out of the car.”

  “No.”

  “Get out or I’m dragging you out and leaving you on the ground to fend for yourself.”

  He throws my door open and tosses my crutches on the ground in front of me as he walks away. Grasping onto the sides of the car I swing my legs around and place each of my feet on the dusty black pavement. Bending down I pick up the crutches one at a time and somehow miraculously get myself to a standing position.

  It’s hot, and I’m already sweating from the small exertion of getting out of the car. My muscles are weak, my mind even weaker. I make a promise to myself right then and there that I’m going to heal my broken leg. That I’m going to make it stronger than it was before the accident, for the sole purpose of kicking Reed’s ugly ass.

  As I get to a fully standing position, the smell of fresh cut grass and red dirt almost makes me sick. I can’t be here, pretending my life didn’t drastically change almost a year ago. I know I need to do something w
ith my life, but this isn’t it. This is not me. I feel like a stranger trapped in my own body and I have no idea how to fix my life.

  “Stop standing there looking like you’re going to puke.”

  Knowing I’m not going to win this, I follow him to the pull up bars.

  “Go to the lower one and do thirty.”

  Reed has been my best friend for years, and right now, I can’t figure out if I hate him or love him. But I do as I’m told. The bar is low enough that I don’t need to jump, to reach it, and since I can’t stand without support, I feel as if I’ve already won this round.

  Releasing my hands from the crutches, I grab onto the cool metal bar. I smell the familiar tinge of rust, feel the rough grip of the metal as my hands grasp it tightly. Taking a deep breath, I use muscles that I forgot I had and barely make my chin touch the hard steel bar.

  My heart ticks a little faster. I try another one.

  Sweat begins to form on my brow.

  Then another. The blood in my veins begins to pulse in my ears.

  I don’t finish all thirty, but I get pretty damn close and Reed stands back and watches, his hands on his hips, his face a stone cold mask I can’t read.

  “Every day we’re coming here. Every day until you thank God that he didn’t take your life too. Do you hear me?”

  I look at Addison’s curious face and finally answer her. “Who hasn’t needed to restart their life at one point? Sometimes that’s the only way you can move forward.”

  She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “I stayed in Santa Barbara after school because my dad came down with lung cancer. This life wasn’t my plan, but somehow—I feel stuck with it.”

  “Addison, we’re only given one life, you were chosen for yours, because you’re tough enough to love every second of it. No one’s ever stuck.” I pull her to a seated position so she’s now facing me, her legs captured between my own. Her skin is flushed from the run, her lips slightly parted as she continues to breathe heavily. Those heart stopping eyes travel over my face, lingering on my lips, and finally land on my eyes. She gives me a small smile.

  “Six years ago, a drunk driver took away any hope I had of playing professional soccer. In the span of a minute, all my dreams were crushed. I had to re-think all my priorities and make new dreams.” Clasping her hands between my own, I make sure I have her full attention. “This is your life Addison, you choose how you want to live it. That’s all that matters.”

  Releasing her hands from my grasp, she places her fingers on my stomach, right against my scar and I have to will myself to continue.

  “There are a million ways to restart your life.”

  She turns her head, staring off into the distance, her mind clearly spinning with plans on how to move forward with her life. Facing me again, her eyes lock onto mine. Those brilliant eyes gut me. They’re filled with a newfound hope and determination and I want to be a part of that restart button. I want to be the reason for her restart.

  “Come to the track with me tomorrow.”

  Her body slightly stiffens. “I could barely get through this run, there’s no way I can keep up with your level of training.”

  “You won’t have to, I’ll design something just for you, but I think it will help. Sometimes making the smallest change ends up causing the greatest difference and meeting me and Reed at the track tomorrow morning can be your first step.”

  Her face brightens.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I’m hopeful. Maybe I’m making a little progress.

  “How early are we talking here?” her voice slightly more tentative than before.

  “Early enough that I’ll grab the coffee.”

  Sitting straighter she looks me in the eye. “Okay, Damian, it’s a yes. I’ll be your morning girl.” She winks and stands up.

  And I’m hard.

  “You’re falling behind! Speed it up Addison!”

  I’m going to punch him in the face or kick him in the nuts, whichever movement my body will allow, he’s getting. The red hair suits him, reminds me of the devil and he has evil brewing behind those blue eyes. He’s blaring Flo Rida’s “GDFR” and I want to throw his damn Bluetooth speaker from here to kingdom come.

  And Damian, he’s laughing at me like this is some sort of comedy show.

  “Come on Green Eyes, pretend you’re competing to win American Ninja Warrior.”

  I flip him off and run one more sprint around the track. My lungs hurt, my legs are shaking, and I’m sure this is what death feels like. We’ve been here an hour; it has to be over soon. The only redeeming quality of this god-forsaken workout is watching Damian do his thing. It’s no wonder he looks the way he does, I’ve never seen a human body perform like that. I want to watch him build his very own Salmon Ladder because I’m convinced he’d be able to do it no problem.

  “Stop and give me thirty sit ups!” Reed is my new enemy. I may even hate him more than Matt in this moment.

  Blocking the pain in my side and shaking legs out of my mind, I focus on happier thoughts. Like last night. I’ve decided Damian in clothes should be illegal. He can walk around in his boxers for all I care. After he made me dinner in nothing but his track pants, we sat down and figured out exactly how my restart was going to take place. He had three requirements.

  “I’ll help you Addison, under three conditions.”

  I sit forward in my chair, not wanting to miss a single word.

  “You need to train with me and Reed at least three times a week.”

  I’m shaking my head back and forth completely blocking out anything else he has to say. Is he out of his mind?

  Laughing, he scoots his chair closer to mine and picks up my hands. “You can do it, Addison and trust me, it’ll make you feel good. You’ll thank me later.”

  Feel good? I know of a few other ways I’m sure Damian can make me feel good, going to the track is not one of them. Too doubtful to respond, I nod my head asking him to continue.

  “Second, you need to chill on the reality television.”

  Again, my head begins to shake back and forth.

  “Two shows a week, that’s all I’m giving you. If you get tempted to watch a third, call me and I’ll find a way to . . . entertain you.” He squeezes my hands and I’m wondering what his idea of entertainment is. If it involves him shirtless, I’m all in, if it involves more workouts, he can find someone else to torture.

  “I choose my Ninjas and The Voice.” For some reason I feel I need to make this declaration now, like if I don’t grab those specific shows, he’s going to take them away from me.

  He smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Good choice.”

  Standing, he walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge. My eyes follow his every move. I’m so curious as to what number three could be, that his sudden departure from our discussion has me antsy. He takes a bottle of water and starts drinking, not realizing that my curiosity is killing me.

  “What’s number three?” I finally ask.

  He places the water on the counter and looks directly in my eyes. “Have sex.”

  The apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, but I’m sure I heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

  “You need to have sex.” He’s still staring in my eyes and a muscle in his jaw begins to twitch. “And not with the asshole.”

  I blink three times before I get up the courage to answer him. I count them. One. Two. Three. The question simply slips out. “Are you asking me to have sex with you?”

  His grin is huge, his eyes twinkling and I know all my dirty fantasies are about to come true. “No.”

  Wait. What? Turn back the clock. Did I just hear him say no?

  “While that is a very tempting offer, Addison, you’re not ready for me yet.”

  It was intense and confusing. He’d given me enough signs that he’d be up for some bedroom action, but when it came down to a real life scenario, he punted. Had I read him completely wrong?

  I never
said if I’d be on board with that number three requirement. Too shocked at his negative response I began to clean the dishes, pretending that conversation never took place.

  It was probably for the best. I’d been avoiding life for a long time, wrapping my heart and soul in a thick layer of bubble wrap. Matt’s reappearance had popped a few of those delicately air filled bubbles and Damian was slowly trying to pop a few more, getting me to leave the comfort of my stale routine. I’m not ready for my protective layer to be permanently deflated, but I could definitely get on board with the first two of his requirements.

  While Damian didn’t give me a fourth condition, I gave one to myself. I needed distance from Matt and I texted him, telling him not to come see me next month. He never responded and I can only hope he’ll honor my request. I need more space from him before I can truly understand what it is I’m looking for.

  Finishing the last of what Damian had planned for my first training day, I collapse onto the ground, a rumpled pile of sweat and jelly legs. Damian sits down next to me, his breathing labored, his bare chest glistening with a perfect amount of workout sweat and sexy stubble covering his face. Nothing like me, looking like a disheveled mess.

  “Why does Reed get off so easy?” My side has a cramp, I’m drenched in sweat, and Reed’s done nothing but yell at both Damian and me for the past sixty minutes. Sure he’s done a little of his own workout, but it’s nothing compared to what he just put us through.

  “He doesn’t need the ass kicking as much as I do.” Standing, he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.

  “What have you done to deserve such a harsh punishment?” He’s still holding my hands and I haven’t done a thing to pull them away. Nor do I want to extract myself from the firm grip he has on me. I love the way my hands practically fit in the palm of his. It lets me know I’m not imagining the size and strength of him.

  Pinning me with his eyes, a mischievous gleam takes over his face. “I decided to chase after an emotionally unavailable woman.”

  The smile fades from my face, and he brushes his knuckles across my cheek. “Don’t frown Green Eyes. I’m sure she’ll come around soon.”