Portia Moore - He Lived Next Door

by Unknown

  I grab my laptop and refresh the Expedia page I’ve been looking at. Ticket prices haven’t gone up by much from the first day I started to look. I move the package I’ve been stalking to the cart and stare at it.

  “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a trip, you’ve booked plenty of trips,” I tell myself.

  But my heart never beat so fast when I booked a trip before. I never felt as tense as I do now, but underneath—or maybe above—the tension is excitement, a rush of adrenaline. It’s exciting but scary at the same time. I hear Nicole’s voice telling me not to be a baby. I ignore all of Nicole’s other words though, take a deep breath, and hit Submit.

  After only a few seconds, I’m directed to the confirmation page, and just like that, I feel relief. I don’t feel dread, anxiety, or worry. Nothing’s happened, the world didn’t explode, I didn’t explode, and…

  I feel better.

  What I worked myself up to believing was a monumental decision is ordinary, just like millions of other decisions I’ve made.

  “It’s just a trip,” I tell myself, feeling much better.

  But it’s time to go meet Carter for coffee, so I grab my wristlet and give myself a once-over in the mirror before I head out. When I arrive, he’s already there. The Starbucks isn’t crowded—only about six people total in what would usually be a packed house. I make my way over to him feeling a sense of de ja vu, but I shrug it off.

  “Hi!” It’s always good to see him, but today I’m excited.

  “Good morning.” He sounds just as excited, but Carter always looks as if he’s running on fresh coffee by thought alone. He looks great in the natural light, his skin flawless and his dimples looking deeper.

  “You picked a good day. It’s usually packed in here.”

  “Yeah, it’s always low-key around this time. What are you having? My treat.”

  I give him my order and watch as he walks to the counter. Two young girls’ heads follow him. They smile and giggle to one another, no doubt talking about his movie star good looks that he seems to be completely oblivious of. He’s back in what seems like an instant with my piping hot coffee, and I notice he has ice in his coffee.

  “So what’s new?” I ask as he sits down.

  “Nothing much. I was thinking of giving your friend Nicole a call.”

  My eyes practically bug out of my head. “Really?” I ask, trying to contain my shock.

  He looks at me with confusion. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  I swallow hard. “Um, no, I just… no, it’s great.”

  Wow! I didn’t expect to hear that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Nicole is beautiful, smart, and opinionated, but she’s so different from Carter. I guess I didn’t think she’d be Carter’s type. But then again, Carter is laid-back and opposites do attract.

  “She’ll be excited. She really likes you. She actually wanted me to put a good word in for her with you,” I tell him, then immediately feel guilty, as though I’ve broken some sort of code. He’s already expressed interest, so I didn’t need to add any of that. But Nicole’s not the average woman. She makes it known what she wants without any of the games that most of us play.

  “Oh, you mean like dating her?” he asks, his face scrunched up in confusion.

  I frown. What else would he be talking about?

  “I meant for the non-profit I work for. She said she’d like to help and we’ve had a few things come up she could do…”

  My face heats up in embarrassment. “Oh…”

  “It’s not that Nicole doesn’t seem great,” he says, obviously trying to fix the misunderstanding. “I’m just… where I am right now, isn’t a good place for me to be involved with anyone if that makes sense.”

  “I don’t think Nicole’s looking for that. She just wants a good time,” I say, then realize how that sounds. “I mean, she’s not the type to pressure a guy into anything.”

  He smiles, his two dimples on display, and the awkwardness of this conversation begins to disappear.

  “I’m shutting up now,” I say, throwing my hands up for a truce, and he laughs.

  “I finished your book.”

  “Really?” I say, feeling my cheeks flush.

  “Yeah, it was good.”

  “It wasn’t too girly?”

  He waves me off. “A good story’s a good story. I even got you some readers. A couple of girls at work asked what I was reading, and I told them about you and the book. They seemed really interested.”

  He’s so naïve, and I can’t help but smile. Is he really so oblivious that he thinks they were more interested in the book than in him? But I thank him anyway.

  “So what’s next for you? Since we’re friends now, I get the inside scoop on your next work, right?” he asks with a glinting smile.

  “I’ve actually started to work on something. It’s sort of top secret though,” I tell him playfully with a wink.

  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

  “Well, if you promise,” I tease him back.

  He beams and settles into his chair, giving me his full attention.

  “I can’t tell you all of it because I don’t have all of it in my head. It’s sort of in pieces, how all of my stories come.”

  He nods, encouraging me.

  “It’s sort of a thriller—but still a romance though—about a woman who can’t find her husband. He’s been gone a while, but while she’s looking for him, she meets this guy who she falls in love with.”

  I see the slightest change in his expression. It’s so slight that I shouldn’t even have noticed it, but his wide eyes narrow a bit, his smile slightly diminished.

  “I’m still working things out. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but I’m excited about it,” I tell him with a shrug.

  “That’s great. You look really excited about it,” he says with a bright smile.

  My thoughts creep around, wondering if he really thinks it’s great. He didn’t say it sounds like a great idea or he’s excited to read it. Then I realize that whether he likes it or not, he’s not my target audience. Maybe he could be a cover model for me one day. He’d make a beautiful one. Does his religion allow things like that? Because he’d have to have his shirt off. Or maybe not… well I’m going to New York this weekend. I’m sure Davien can introduce me to some male models who wouldn’t have a problem with it. Still, I wonder.

  “Hey, can I ask you a question? You have to swear you won’t get embarrassed about it,” I say, emboldened by my sugar rush.

  “Shoot.”

  “It’s just an idea, but would you ever consider being a cover model? You’d make a killing.”

  His eyes widen and his smile is wide and breathtaking, but he laughs. “I’m not really a model.”

  “That’s what would be great about it. You’re this real, down-to-earth, super attractive guy.”

  His cheeks flush in embarrassment. He shakes his head, folding his arms across a chest that could make him some serious cash. “It’s not really my thing.”

  “Too bad,” I tell him with a grin.

  The rest of our morning flies by. He tells me about the foundation he works for, then we talk about TV shows and books. I’m surprised that he’s more into shows from when we were kids. Our conversation is light and easy. I tell him I’d like to volunteer when they have something, and I ask him how I can donate. He gives me their website, and before I know it, an hour’s flown by.

  “So what’s on your agenda today?” I ask.

  “Work and more work. What about you?”

  “Hoping to get some writing done before I leave.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “New…”

  It’s not that I wasn’t going to tell him about my trip to New York, but the moment I’m about to, I feel tense. My thoughts go back to the night he discovered Davien and me at Maestro’s and how his disdain was pretty apparent. Now that I know he’s a part of the Jesus club, I have a better understanding of where his dis
approval comes from, and I think he’ll give me grief about it. Well, actually he probably won’t, but I don’t see him giving me a high-five and telling me to go for it.

  “New York,” I tell him as we stand from the table. I expect to see him frown, but he smiles in excitement.

  “I love New York. There’s so much to do there,” he says as if he’s reminiscing.

  “Yeah, I’m excited. I’ve never been.” I’m happy that either he hasn’t put two and two together or he’s deciding to be blind to it. Not that he has anything to be blind to.

  “Are you meeting your husband out there?”

  My stomach sinks as if it’s strapped to a dozen bricks.. “No, I’m actually meeting… my agent.”

  He’s walking beside me and I don’t look at him, but I can feel his disdain.

  “You signed a deal already?” he asks, his voice full of hope and excitement.

  I feel my cheeks flush. He thinks I’m going out there for business. “No, not yet.”

  “Oh.”

  I swallow hard. I know what “oh” means. I don’t dare to glance at him. “It’s just to sight-see and get away from everything.”

  “Oh, sounds fun.” His voice is void of its usual warmth and cheerfulness.

  I gather up the courage to glance at him, and I can only describe his expression as confused—no… disappointed. I’d rather see confusion.

  The remainder of our short walk to our building is full of awkward silence, and by the time we make it to the entrance, where he opens the door for me, I’m irritated. I’m just not sure if it’s with myself or him.

  Who is Carter to make me feel guilty? I was completely fine with my trip before I left for coffee, and now I feel tense and bad about it. Not that he’s said anything, but his disapproval is clear in everything he hasn’t said, in his silence. I’d almost rather he just come out and say what he wants to say. Do I really want that though? Our friendship is still new and fragile, and this could most certainly cause it to collapse.

  “What time do you leave?”

  His voice jolts me from the conversation I’ve been imagining in my head.

  “The flight leaves tomorrow at eight a.m., and I get back on Monday afternoon,” I tell him with a wide smile, but his is weak. “You going to miss me?”

  His expression softens, and it actually makes my stomach sink deeper into an ocean of guilt.

  “Is this about the other night?” he asks cautiously.

  “It has nothing to do with that,” I say innocently with a half shrug.

  He looks at his feet as if he can’t look me in the eye.

  “Carter, it’s just a trip, I promise.”

  But he looks as if he’s lost his best friend, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m misinterpreting things. Is-is Carter into me?

  “I don’t like that guy.” His blue eyes lock on mine, and I swallow hard.

  “Davien, he’s… he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but he’s grown on me a little. I think we could be friends, which would only be a help to him selling my books,” I tell him cheekily, trying to coerce a smile from him, but it’s an epic failure.

  His brows are drawn together and he looks like a sad puppy. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I know guys like him.” His voice is almost on the verge of being desperate, and it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

  “You don’t know him, and you’re right that we haven’t known each other long. You really don’t know me,” I tell him, slightly annoyed.

  His shoulders sink. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I instantly forgive him and pat his arm. “Hey, you’ve been great. I really like you. It’s so good to have a guy friend who doesn’t have an agenda. I need this trip, and it’s just a trip. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.”

  He nods, but his expression is blank.

  “Thanks for walking me back. I know you should be getting to work.”

  He nods, glancing at the door. “You’re right.”

  “How about we meet for coffee on Tuesday?” I ask cheerfully, and he smiles.

  “Have a safe flight,” he says, and I note his defeated tone.

  It’s killing my mood, so I give him a sideways hug. He smells good. He smiles down at me, back to the Carter I’ve come to know.

  I watch him leave, and I sigh, feeling anxious. My phone rings. It’s my mom, and I’m happy to have somewhere else to focus my attention.

  I should have known my mom would show up here. I can only avoid her calls so many times without her showing up. I’m surprised she waited as long as she did. If only she’d been one day later, I would be in NYC, but then I would have had to explain that when I got back, so in a way, it all works out. My day had been so fantastic after my coffee with Carter and talking to Davien. He’s thrilled that I’m coming and also partially shocked. He didn’t think I really would, and it’s always nice to prove someone as smug as he is wrong.

  “I’m really upset with you, Chassidy Marie Bell,” she says, pulling out the big guns as she walks into the apartment.

  “I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything,” I tell her innocently.

  She looks at me with a glare that would freeze the Sahara. “Why didn’t you tell me that Bryce isn’t living here anymore?”

  My blood goes completely cold and I try to wipe the shock off my face, but it’s stuck. Her eyes are like daggers, and anger is radiating from her.

  “You talked to Bryce?” I squeak out, and her eyes narrow.

  “I told you I would call him if you kept giving me the runaround,” she says, her voice like ice.

  “Why would you do that?” I screech.

  “Why? Why should I have had to? How could you not tell me, especially after I told you about Adam? Did you think I’d never find out? What is going on?” she yells.

  My vision starts to blur. “I didn’t want to ruin your engagement. You practically told me that Bryce and I are the reason you accepted his proposal, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

  She shakes her head, sighing before sitting on the sofa. I’m still standing, feeling like a rag doll held up by puppet strings.

  “What did you… what did he say to you?” I ask, ignoring the desperation in my voice.

  She shakes her head. “How bad is this?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “What hurts the most is that you didn’t tell me anything. I’m your mother. How could you keep this from me?” Her voice shakes with vulnerability, and it’s actually worse than her death glare.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just trying to work this out as best as I can.”

  “I know I’ve never been married before,” she says stiffly, and the crack becomes a little bigger. “Still, I know how much Bryce means to you. I know I was hard on you when you decided to marry him. I just wanted you to be financially secure on your own merit so if things didn’t work out, you could walk away unscathed. But you married him and you’re successful and you were happy and… I saw that being with him didn’t take away from who you were. His family didn’t poach you from me. You grew with him. I was always afraid of… I thought I’d lose you.”

  “How could you think that?” I ask, kneeling in front of her. “You’d never lose me. You wouldn’t have allowed it.” I kiss her on the cheek.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive of you and Bryce. I hope I didn’t make things difficult.”

  “Our issues have nothing to do with you, I promise you that.”

  She cracks a smile and lets out a relieved sigh. “Then tell me, what is it? Why have you kicked him out? I want the truth.”

  I haven’t kicked him out. Did he give her that impression? I stand up and sit on the couch closest to the chair. “I-I…” I try to choose my words carefully. My mom’s enthusiasm for my marriage and this glimpse of a softer side of her is new, and I’m not sure how deep it runs. I wish I knew what Bryce had said to her. Did he mention that night I caught him at the restaurant w
ith Kira? “I don’t know what my feelings for Bryce are right now.”

  It’s not a lie… just not exactly the truth.

  “What does that mean?” she asks pointedly, the annoyance apparent in her voice.

  “I can’t really explain it, but I don’t want to punish him for how I’m feeling.”

  “Asking him to move out of his own home isn’t punishment?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, Mom. I just needed this time, okay?” I say sharply.

  “This just does not make any sense to me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t know what’s going on. If you want the truth, I’m clueless. I just know that when he’s around, I feel suffocated and sad, and I don’t want to blame him for it, okay?” The words come out louder and harsher than I intended, and they’re accompanied by tears.

  She’s quiet, but her stare is still on me, as if the reason I gave her flew right over her head. “Did he cheat on you?”

  My eyes widen. “It-it’s not like that.”

  I can practically see the anger register on her face. Her pale skin turns bright red and her fists clench.

  “Mom, please, it’s me. It was me, at least,” I say, but I sense her fury growing. She pulls out her phone, and I grab it from her. “Don’t!”

  “I can either call him now or when I leave,” she says, her voice unrelenting as I hold her phone.

  “This isn’t your fight, okay? I haven’t even said he’s done anything.”

  “He did something and you’ve let me know what. I can’t believe I felt sorry for him,” she snarls.

  “What do you mean you felt sorry for him?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Wait until I see him!” she growls.

  “No, no, you won’t call him, you won’t do anything because this isn’t your fight. This is between Bryce and me,” I tell her.

  “You’re my daughter, and he hurt you.”