The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

  Being regulars at Murphy’s means we have come to know a lot of the staff.

  “Just got back today.”

  “Go anywhere fun?”

  “Just to see my uncle Kyle.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s he doing?” he asks. Kyle has visited here a few times and loves coming to Murphy’s. “I should go down to his place sometime. I hear they have a few new IPAs on tap that sound killer.”

  “He does and they are. You should go see him. He’d love that.”

  “I just might,” he says with a side grin that drops instantly when Jeff clears his throat.

  “Can we order?” he asks impatiently and I don’t hide my eye roll.

  “Sure. What can I get ya?”

  We each place an order and Jeff surprises me when he asks for an order of smothered tater tots. He’s the type of guy who orders the same thing every time we go to a certain restaurant and his go-to at Murphy’s has always been the Monte Crisco sandwich with a side of fries.

  “Trying something new?” I ask after Nick leaves to put our order in.

  He shrugs. “Sounded good, I guess. Nick sure seems friendly with you tonight.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nick. He was practically undressing you with his eyes. Wouldn’t even do his job because he was more concerned about flirting with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I look around and make sure no one is listening. “He was just saying hello. He wasn’t flirting. That’s called small talk, Jeff. What is wrong with you tonight?”

  He looks around the bar, settling his eyes on something over my shoulder. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  Nick returns with our beer and I take a fortifying gulp, practically ripping it out of the poor guy’s hand before he has a chance to place it on the table. Nick’s eyebrows kiss his hairline.

  “You good?”

  After swallowing, I nod. “Yup. Great.”

  He chuckles. “Alright then. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be out with your food shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jeff and I don’t look at each other, each focused on a TV opposite us. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. It usually isn’t this way with us. Sure, we’re not the PDA type, but we at least manage to make conversation when we’re together.

  “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

  “What do you mean?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the TV when he responds.

  “Us. This.” I gesture between us. “You won’t even hardly look at me. You forgot I was even in the car with you.”

  He sighs heavily like I’m a burden and finally makes eye contact.

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t forget you in the car. I thought you were following me. And I’m just watching the game. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is I haven’t seen you in three weeks, Jeff, and you’re acting like I’m a pain in the ass. Even before I left to go see Kyle you were distant.”

  “I wasn’t distant. I was working.”

  “Nights. You, a high school teacher, was working nights.”

  “Conferences were going on and then we had a few staff meetings with the new principal that’s starting next year. I can’t help that. I have a job that demands a lot of attention. I don’t get to just sit at home all day and play around with fabric.”

  There it is. It’s his only go-to shaming when it comes to anything that involves our relationship being anything but perfect and blissful. My career choice.

  “Right. I forgot. How silly of me.” I stare at him, or rather glare, and he sighs again. This time he reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. It doesn’t do anything to my body. No shivers. No spark. No zing. Nothing. Just like the chaste kiss on the cheek he gave me when he got home earlier.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I just have a lot on my mind lately.”

  “Well, talk to me about it, then.” I have no idea why I say that. It’s not as if I believe there’s anything to salvage when it comes to our relationship. Nor that I want to. However, we were once intimate with each other. We were once friends. Right now, whatever’s between us feels more like acquaintances than anything. Someone you’d see at Starbucks and give a nod and wave to and ask the polite “How are you doing?” but in reality, you don’t care. Not really, anyway.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It isn’t nothing. There’s… something. You know it, I know it.”

  He takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand before letting it go and sitting up straighter in his chair.

  “Alright. Here’s the deal…”

  “Here you go. Boneless wings and an onion blossom. Fried chicken club with coleslaw. Can I get you anything else? Another beer?” Nick asks as he places our meals in front of us.

  “Yeah, sure, thanks,” I tell him and cast a smile his way.

  “Enjoy. I’ll be right back with those.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jeff picks up his sandwich and takes a bite and I do the same with one of my wings, both of us content to eat rather than talk. Nick returns with our second round of beers and takes away our empty glasses. But halfway through our meal, we’re interrupted once again. This time, it’s not Nick. Though, I’d definitely prefer that interruption over who’s standing next to our table now.

  “Hi, Jeff.”

  Jeff, bless his stupid little heart, coughs and pounds on his chest when the feminine voice greets him.

  “Whitney. Hi.”

  I look back and forth between them, waiting for Jeff to introduce me but he doesn’t. Instead, he just looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He starts scratching behind his ear, one of his tells that he’s been caught in something bad. I only saw it once before, and it was when he lied to me about his parents being in town.

  I raise my eyebrows and sit back in my seat, waiting for whatever’s about to happen to go down. I should be mad in this moment, but I’m amused more than anything. Maybe it’s because I knew before I walked into our home today that we were through. Maybe it’s because I never fell in love with Jeff. Whatever it is, I’m glad that I’m not feeling the sting that Whitney is feeling. She looks positively heartbroken as she stares at me and Jeff sitting here together eating dinner.

  “This your sister?” she asks hopefully.

  I look at Jeff, waiting for his reply. He looks to me then to Whitney then to me again. A pleading look on his face that says it all.

  “Aww, shnookems,” I croon, reaching over and grabbing hold of Jeff’s hand. I do a mock shudder dramatically. “Wouldn’t that be awful if I was your sister? That would make living together pretty awkward, huh?” I give him a broad smile, enjoying the hell out of his face turning a bright red.

  “Living together?” Whitney’s voice comes out soft.

  “Mm hmm. For what, a year now? Is that right? Goodness, it doesn’t seem possible, does it, Lovebug?” Yeah, I’m laying it on thick and I really don’t care.

  “I…” Jeff clears his throat and looks down at his plate. “Probably?”

  “So he was right.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her when her voice comes out a little stronger, extracting my hand from Jeff’s.

  “The guy. He was right. You gave me the wrong number?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  My blood runs cold and I look to Jeff and back to Whitney. “What did you just say?”

  Whitney stands up straight and Jeff looks like he’s about to puke. Good. “A week ago, he,” she points at Jeff, “and I hooked up. Afterward, he told me he’d never had better and that he wanted to see me again. Gave me his number. I texted him the next day and after this… this… person responded a few times he eventually said he felt too guilty and had to come clean. That it wasn’t him who I spent the night with but that it was some Textdoor Neighbor! Who the fuck does that?!”

  I feel all the color drain from my face and now I’m the one who’s about to puke.

  “Textdoor Neighbor?”

  Whit
ney nods her head. “Yes. I thought it was funny at first but then realized that it’s a shitty thing to do to someone and really didn’t want to believe it. But now… he was right, wasn’t he?”

  “Who?” Jeff finally asks. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Sierra, babe, I’ve never met this person in my life.” He points to Whitney and she looks like she’s about to scratch his eyes out.

  I bark out a hysterical laugh. “You fuckturd! You called her by name!”

  He clamps his mouth shut.

  Whitney’s tiny little fists ball. “You. You low down, dirty, little fucker! I cannot believe I listened to your lies! You told me you’d never connected with anyone before like we had! That the person you were with before me was like a dead fish in bed. This girl? Sierra? This is who you’re with?” She points to me with her nose scrunched up like she just smelled something disgusting. Looks at me with repulsion. “She’s… look at me and look at her! You’re living with this one?”

  As if I’m the reason Jeff is the Toolbag that’s been using… Jack Cole’s number!

  Oh.

  My.

  Gosh.

  This isn’t my life. This can’t be.

  Whitney is beautiful. No doubt about it. In fact, she’s almost intimidating with her gorgeous face and sparkling blue eyes and bright blonde hair with a few blue streaks. She’s the opposite of me in every way. From her height right down to the clothes she wears. I look down at myself in my cream colored baggy shirt that falls off one shoulder and black leggings. Little camel colored ankle boots with barely a heel on my feet. Whitney looks like she’s ready for a night on the town, though. Which is odd since we’re in the middle of a sports bar. But her four-inch bright red stilettos and tight leather pants work for her. Obviously, they worked for Jeff, too. Because despite being caught in the act, he’s doing exactly what he said Nick was doing to me earlier. Undressing her with his eyes.

  Right.

  In.

  Front.

  Of.

  Me.

  What a dick!

  Once my brain comes full circle, I realize that I am who I am and I’m happy with that. I don’t need to dress to impress. I don’t need the approval of everyone — or anyone — around me to be happy. I love me.

  I stand from my seat, barely coming up to her augmented boobs that are right in my face. But I don’t let the height difference continue to intimidate me. I look up at her, my finger pointing. “Listen here, Whitney, I’m a fucking catch. Do not throw that shit down on me just because you got played. And let me tell you something. You’re nothing special. Do you know he’s been doing this for WEEKS? Weeks! I’ve seen some of the messages this Textdoor Neighbor guy has received. And for what it’s worth, Textdoor Neighbor? That’s fucking hilarious. Hil-ar-i-ous. Whoever thought of it is a damn genius, I tell you. And you are nothing more than a one-night stand that this toolbag over here decided to have time and time and time again.

  “And for another thing. Jeff? Fucking JEFF? You think he’s worth your anger and insults to me? The person who doesn’t deserve them? Look at him! He’s a nerd! A complete and total nerd. And if he thinks I was a dead fish in bed? It was because he would come in less than a minute so I didn’t even have time to be alive! Foreplay, Jeff. Learn it. Though, by the sounds of it from your other conquests, you took the time to learn for everyone but me. Fuckturd.”

  By the time I’m finished ranting and raving, the entire bar is silent and staring at us. Whitney’s mouth is agape. Jeff is standing next to his chair like he’s about to tackle me to get me to shut up.

  Nick is standing next to the table, arms crossed over his chest with an angry scowl aimed right at Jeff.

  Whitney looks around, seemingly a little embarrassed, but then her eyes land on his plate in front of him. “You’re eating my sandwich. The one I told you that you had to try sometime.”

  What a jerk. Sounded good, I guess.

  “It’s good,” he says lamely.

  Whitney reaches out and snatches his beer off the table, takes a large drink, gags, then dumps the rest of it over Jeff’s head. He stands, drenched in beer and looking completely appalled that this just happened. Mad, too, but the confusion is funnier.

  I cover my mouth but it doesn’t hide the fact that I’m laughing. She eyes my beer but I’m too quick and take it before she can. “No way. I want mine.”

  Nick smirks.

  “You’re a dick.” Whitney stomps away on her heels, ones I would break an ankle on, but she does it with grace. And even though she was rude to me, I can’t help but admire her for it.

  “Time for you to go,” Nick says to Jeff. “Your fun has ended. Officially. Don’t come back here, you got me?”

  “You can’t kick me out!”

  “I own this place. I can and I am. You’ve been coming in here for weeks, leaving with a different girl every night, and I told you to cut that shit out because I thought you had this one waiting for you at home. You’re done causing a scene in my bar. Get out.”

  “Weeks?” I ask stupidly even though I’ve already put it all together.

  Nick’s gaze softens when he turns to me. “I wanted to tell you but then you were gone for weeks and I thought maybe you’d left him. Didn’t have your number or I’d’ve called to warn you. Told him a few times to stop but he told me you were gone. Thought it meant gone for good.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Can someone please get me a towel?!” Jeff shouts, completely ignoring the fact that Nick just threw him under the bus — and out of his bar.

  “Dry yourself off.” Nick escorts him to the door and shoves him through. “When I say don’t come back in here, I mean it.”

  “You’ll hear from my lawyer.”

  “For what?” Nick laughs and turns back toward me when he sees that Jeff is gone.

  The crowd in the bar is happy and lighthearted after being able to witness the spectacle that just went down in front of them. And me? I’m just sitting here chugging the last of my beer.

  “You okay?”

  “Surprisingly yes. I knew we were done. Just didn’t know how done until that happened.” I chuckle.

  Nick takes Jeff’s plate and puts it on the bar next to him, asking his bartender to take care of it for him, then takes Jeff’s place across from me, helping himself to my food much like I did to Jack’s.

  “Damn, we’re good,” he mumbles around a slice of deep fried onion.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Seriously, Sierra. You okay? I promise I would have told you but he said you were gone. Thought it meant something different.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your job to rat on your customers.”

  “But it is my job to inform my friends if their boyfriends are rats.”

  I laugh and pop a boneless wing into my mouth. Chew and swallow and think.

  “You have nothing to apologize for. Especially after kicking him out just now. Though, I’m in a bit of a pickle because he was my ride and I live with him.”

  He winces. “Yeah, this could get interesting. Don’t worry. I can get you home and help you pack if you need. You got a place to stay tonight?”

  “I can go to a hotel or go back to uncle Kyle.”

  “I’d let you stay at my place but my wife and I just had a baby.”

  “Wife? When did that happen?”

  He shrugs. “Been married for a few years.”

  “I feel like a piece of crap for never knowing that.”

  “My job is to ask questions and listen. Your job is to come here and eat and drink.”

  “Well, congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He pulls out his phone and shows me several pictures of an adorable baby boy. “Nick III. Family name, obviously.”

  “He’s adorable. And your wife is beautiful.”

  “She is. I married way up.”

  No, he didn’t. Nick is an incredibly good looking guy and he and his wife make a beautiful couple. But I like the s
entiment anyway so I don’t correct him. He’s hopelessly in love with his wife and son; it’s clear as he stares at their picture on his phone.

  “Take your time. Finish up. Meal’s on the house tonight. When you’re ready to leave, come find me and I’ll take you home. Won’t leave until you’re packed up. Jeff’s a pussy but I don’t want shit to go down, either.”

  I giggle a little at his use of words and nod, thanking him for his help and support.

  He also brings me another beer. Usually after two I’m done but the third one tonight goes down incredibly smooth and I figure I deserve it. The fourth one gives me the courage of ten thousand soldiers and soon I find myself standing in front of Whitney and her friends. I’m a little surprised she didn’t leave but impressed, none the less. She didn’t allow Jeff to ruin her good time and for that, she gets a little gold star.

  “I want to see your phone,” I demand.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your phone. I want to see it. The texts with Textdoor Neighbor.”

  “Are you… are you sure?”

  “Yup,” I say, letting the p pop at the end. “Positive.” Though that word comes out a little slurred, sounding more like pothithive.

  She hands me her phone after showing me the text.

  Her: Hi, it’s me! So much fun last night.

  Him: Sure was.

  Her: Want to do it again? Maybe tonight?

  Him: Not sure yet. I might have a meeting to go to.

  Her: Sad! You know what they say all work and no play makes…

  Him: Hmm. Maybe you should tell me.

  Him: Wait. Scratch that. Don’t tell me.

  Her: Why? Not up for sexting? I thought after the wild night we shared you’d be open to that. Kind of like how open I was…

  Him: I’m not him. I’m him. But not him. Not who you spent the night with. I’m his Textdoor Neighbor and he used my number to give to you.

  That’s the last of the texts. She must have stopped responding and Jack never reached out to see if she understood or if she was okay.

  I quickly look up his number on her phone and commit it to memory before handing it back to her. Hopefully even in my drunken state I’ll remember it.