by Ellie Hall
“No. You need to hear me out. Also, I don’t care about embarrassing myself.”
It’s true. I don’t care at all. All I can think about now is saving what we had, which is way more important than me making a fool of myself in front of my colleagues.
He throws his hands in the air. “Fine. Humor me.”
I make my way through the crowd of people surrounding me until I’m right in front of him. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I know this sounds silly, and it’s a weak excuse, but Ryker led me to that hike under false pretenses.”
I can hear Ryker scoff in the distance and decide to ignore him. I’ll deal with that smug jerk later.
“He said I could organize a surprise party for your birthday, and I felt like it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
Caleb frowns. “My birthday isn’t for months.”
“Yeah, I know that now. It was nothing but a cheap ploy for Ryker to save his image. He used me.”
Ryker gets up to say something, but Barbara stares him down. Ha!
“So, you two are not best buds?”
I laugh. “Of course not. I could never be friends with someone who uses people.”
“Okay, that’s good to hear, I guess.”
I grab his hand in mine and look into his eyes. “Caleb, you swept me off my feet during that first hike together. I don’t want to lose you. In fact, I think you’re…you’re…”
“Yes?”
“The one.”
A gasp goes through the crowd. Even I am surprised by my own words, but I do mean them. When you find the one, you just know, no matter how long—or short—you’ve known each other.
“Can you forgive me for what I did?” I ask. “Please?”
A smile as bright as the sun spreads over his face. “Yes. I forgive you.”
“What are you waiting for? Kiss her!” Barbara yells, and all of our coworkers start cheering.
“Well, I guess now we can’t not kiss, right?” he asks with a grin. “We can’t disappoint these people, right?”
I smile back at him. “Guess not.”
His lips land on mine, sending me straight to heaven. Our kiss is full of love and longing, and I can feel tears streaming down my face again. Only, this time they’re tears of happiness.
“I love you,” he whispers in between kisses. “Gosh, it feels so good to say it out loud.”
“Right back at you,” I say. “I love you.”
He runs his hands over my back. “What do you say we get out of here and go for a hike?”
“That sounds heavenly,” I say. “Let’s take a hike.”
We walk away from the sound stage while everyone cheers us on. Barbara gives us a thumbs up, and I swear I can see a tear in her eye. I make a mental note to thank her later, but right now, I’ve got more important stuff to do…like take a hike with the man I love.
Connect with Sophie-Leigh Robbins
Sophie-Leigh Robbins writes fun, feel-good romantic comedies. She started her career writing for magazines & television and always had a ton of fun interviewing famous people. She’s now a full-time author and narrative game designer. When she’s not busy creating your next book boyfriend, she loves to read, sew, catch up with friends, travel, and eat lots of cookies (please don’t tell her kids).
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Worst Neighbor Ever
Rachel John
Connor Harwood is a snoop, a bad neighbor, and a tree and grass killer. Oh, and probably a criminal. Let’s not forget that one. The fact that I find him to be the handsomest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on is completely irrelevant.
1
Melissa
I should have seen it coming. It was the day before my twenty-ninth birthday, and Mom unexpectedly wanted to meet up and go shoe shopping.
I had told her I didn’t need shoes, but she doubled down, saying that was even better. We could focus on finding her the perfect pair of summer sandals, and I wouldn’t be distracted with trying on anything for myself.
My mother could talk a comedian out of their last joke. She’s just that good.
So we went shoe shopping, bra shopping, and furniture browsing until the commissioned sales people there gave up and wished us dead, and just when I thought she might let me go home and waste the rest of my Saturday on my own terms, she announced she needed to use the bathroom.
My mother does not do public restrooms. She’s developed an iron bladder to cope, but sometimes when you gotta go, you gotta go. And my house was closer.
I had just bought one side of a duplex in a cute neighborhood where all the lawns were green and mowed, except for ours, and I was totally going to remedy the situation whether my deadbeat duplex neighbor ever decided to help or not. He’d been avoiding meeting me, probably because of the yard situation, and perhaps because he had something sketchy going on over there with all the cars coming and going.
As I pulled up to my new house, the expanse of dull brown against the green of the other yards had me wrinkling my nose. Mom jumped out the passenger side door the second I stopped at the curb. I tossed her the keys out my driver window, and she ran inside like she was about to win the fifty-yard dash.
After turning into my carport and enjoying the quiet for a moment, I gathered up my shopping bags and went around to the front door. In her haste, Mom had left the keys in the lock. I pulled them out and tucked them in the front pocket of my jeans.
Today hadn’t been so bad. I had a new pair of cute sandals, and a new black lace bra that managed to give me a nice lift without digging into my sides. I hadn’t wanted to try it on at all, but after Mom announced to everyone in Macy’s that my once-white bras were gray and not quite getting the job done anymore, heading into the dressing room suddenly sounded like a great idea.
I turned my door handle, preparing to drop my bags on the end table, and instead dropped them on the floor as a dozen voices yelled, “Surprise!”
I blinked, trying to make my eyes adjust to so many people with their expectant gazes on me, most of them practically strangers. Neighbors, I quickly realized. Ones I had only waved to once or twice, but who now had been forced in here by my formidable mother in her attempt to make me new friends. It was seventh grade all over again. Oh crap, I was beginning to sweat. I mentally backtracked to this morning to make sure I’d put on deodorant. Check. Check. My panic subsided a smidge.
“Happy Birthday!” several people said at once.
My across-the-street neighbor pushed her way toward me just as everyone began singing the birthday song with off-key enthusiasm. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
So relieved that someone else got how weird this was, I pulled her into a hug, using her as both a shield and moral support, but she managed to break away from my death grip and gave me a subtle head tilt down. It was then I realized my brand-new bra with its very supportive cups and optional padding was nestled between our feet. She’d probably kicked it back toward me on her way over. I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me, but that didn’t matter. We were officially kindred spirits. I reached down to pick up the bra, but the strap was caught under her shoe.
She took a step back, but that only created a stretchy tug-o-war between my hand and her foot. By the time I had the thing safely back in the bag, I’m pretty sure every person there could identify it in a line-up if they had to.
“It was a successful shopping trip,” I said to no one in particular, as I avoided eye contact until my face didn’t feel like the surface of the sun. I liked meeting people, but this? This was all the things I hated wrapped up in one—surprises, sudden loud noises, unexpected guests, and forced obligation. I was obligated to make this party a success because it was mine. You couldn’t be the pooper of your own party.
After a deep breath, I went around shaking hands and introducing myself, which was super embarrassing, since birthday parties w
ere supposed to be filled with the people who knew and loved you. All the people who fit in those categories were taking me out to dinner tomorrow night. My dad wasn’t even here. He was probably out giving golf lessons and had no idea what Mom was up to. She was a stealthy one with her shenanigans. If she’d told any of my friends or family about this surprise party, there would have been no party, and no surprise.
Speaking of people who loved me, where were my dogs? They would have been all over me the instant I came in the door, and despite the major distraction that was this party, I felt guilty for forgetting them, even for a minute.
“Mom.” I took her aside, giving the neighbor she was talking to an apologetic smile. “Where are Buster and Sarge?” I didn’t have a fence up outside yet, and I was terrified she’d sent them out back, and they might be roaming the neighborhood looking for trouble.
“Natalya has them. I told her I was cleaning your house from top to bottom as a birthday surprise. She’s coming back with them soon. Don’t fret.”
That made me feel a little better, despite finding out my mother’s lies in planning this party were a cavern I’d probably never see the bottom of. At least my dogs were in good hands. They were probably living it up at Natalya’s house.
“Time for cake,” my mom called out, rallying the group towards my kitchen, where a banner hung with the words, ‘Forever 29!’ like I was one of those women who would never acknowledge her birthday again. Well, maybe I wouldn’t. This day had turned me off birthdays forever.
I smiled at the few stragglers still standing with me in the living room, until I caught sight of the guy sitting casually in my armchair in the corner. He was reading a manuscript on pink scented paper, deeply engrossed, with an amused and slightly smug smile on his face. He looked up at me and then TURNED THE PAGE. No shame whatsoever that he was a snoop—a smug snoop, and a bad neighbor, and a tree and grass killer. Oh, and probably a criminal. I couldn’t forget that one. The fact that I found him to be the handsomest guy I’d ever laid eyes on only made me more irritated. Who did he think he was, sitting there leafing through my stuff?
“Hey, neighbor,” he said when I marched over and held out my hand, palm up.
“Reading time is over.”
He sighed and closed the pink manuscript before turning his beautiful blue-green eyes on me. They were like a sun-sparkled lakeshore. An evil lakeshore, I amended. Probably one infested with piranhas.
“Did you write this?” he asked, lifting it up to his nose to give the papers a sniff. “And is that cinnamon I detect?”
“Potpourri. And no, I didn’t write it.”
“What’s potpourri?”
“Let’s just put it on the list of stuff that’s not your concern.” I wiggled the fingers of my outstretched hand, but as I expected, he didn’t hand the manuscript back. He knew I wanted it, and that was reason enough to be a tease about it. I had just failed the most basic rule of power struggles—the most emotional person in the argument is always the loser.
I took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s just been a very long day, and now I have twenty strangers in my house. Not that you’d care. You have strangers in and out of your house all the time, am I right?”
“I’m Connor.” He reached out his hand for me to shake, completely ignoring my little dig, and also not returning the manuscript, which was tucked securely under his other arm.
I frowned at his outstretched hand. “I’m not shaking your hand. You’re leaving.”
I expected him to balk, but he stood and handed me the manuscript. “Happy Birthday, Melissa. Sorry I offended you. This is actually pretty good. You should get it published.”
“I didn’t write it. My granny wrote it. Sort of.”
“She sort of wrote it?”
“No. She’s sort of my granny. Never mind. Bye, now.”
My heart gave a little squeeze as he walked past me, accepting my dismissal with no fight. I’d kind of liked our back and forth, but now that it was one-sided, I just felt mean. He’d complimented me and told me happy birthday, and I’d tossed him out. I didn’t like being mean, even to a probable criminal.
Connor stopped at the front door and stepped back suddenly when it opened. My dogs charged inside, followed by Natalya, who still looked like a living Barbie doll despite being windblown and overheated. Every May, Phoenix turned into an oven on broil, and every May it took us all by surprise.
Buster and Sarge came right for me, and I immediately commanded them to sit, which they did, reluctantly. Sarge’s big tail thumped against the wooden floor, and Buster’s wiggly little body turned in three circles before he listened.
All the kids in the room came to give the dogs hugs, but despite all that, my attention went back to the door where Natalya and Connor were staring each other down, surprise written all over their faces. There was History there, with a capital H, and I needed the details.
“Connor?” Natalya spat out. “What are you doing here? What are all these people doing here?”
“Surprise neighborhood birthday party. They’re all the rage now. How are you, Nat? Long time no see.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine. No thanks to you, jerk.”
He glanced back at me as I cautiously approached. “You two aren’t roommates, are you?” he asked, as if that might be the worst possibility in the world.
Natalya’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” She looked mad enough to move in with me immediately just to tick him off. And while I loved Natalya, she was better in smaller doses, like Red Vine licorice. Ten pieces or so was divine. Eating a whole bucket? Not recommended.
“Natalya’s my best friend, but she doesn’t live here. How do you two know each other?”
“We dated,” Connor said, a little bit of guilt coating his words. Interesting. It must have been more than two years ago, because that’s how long Natalya and I had been friends, and I would have remembered him.
Around the room, neighbors of ours were watching the conversation play out with way more interest than was probably good for any of us, so I opened the door and Connor quickly slipped out and jogged down the porch steps. Natalya and I followed.
“He ghosted me,” Natalya said to me, before turning to Connor and pointing at his retreating back. “And you might not have anything to say for yourself, Connor Harwood, but I’ll tell you this. Stay away from Melissa. She’s been through enough with her fiancé.”
Oh no. Not this. I tried to wave Natalya off at the pass, but she took courage when Connor turned around to face us, looking curious.
“Melissa’s fiancé is in the witness protection program. So, she might look single but she’s not. She’ll never be single.”
I’d never be single? I mentally smacked my forehead and pulled Natalya back towards the party. There were dozens of strangers she hadn’t embarrassed me in front of yet, and even if my next-door neighbor was a jerk and a girlfriend-ghoster, I felt a new level of mortification at her words I couldn’t quite define or understand.
2
Connor
Today I had ignored every instinct that usually kept my life drama free. I didn’t have time for drama. I had dental school finals to study for, and junk to sell so I could pay my mortgage, and neither of those tasks had anything to do with my neighbor—my beautiful, unconventional neighbor who happened to be best friends with a maniac, and had a trouble-making, albeit well-meaning mother.
I know everyone believes it’s women who jump ahead in their thinking to marriage the second they meet someone, but women don’t have the exclusive right to that sort of obsessive thinking.
Guys do it, too. Right when they meet a girl’s overbearing mother and say, ‘no way.’
I also happened to think about the type of mother I’d like my children to have because my mother walked out on us when I was ten. My step-mother has been amazing and loving, and the perfect example of providing roots and wings. My younger brother gives her a hard time because he doesn’t remember the difference. I do. There is
a huge difference between emotionally checked out and someone who’s there for you.
But the fact that I was thinking about all of this instead of studying is exactly why I should’ve said no the second Mrs. Cooke asked if I’d come to her daughter’s surprise birthday party. I should have said no for a lot of reasons.
1. Last week, I hid in my house studying while Melissa’s family helped her move in, knowing if I went outside, I’d get roped into moving couches and making conversation. My exams have been social-life killers in every way possible.
2. Melissa didn’t know I purposely avoided helping her move in, and I’d like to keep it that way. She also didn’t know I was totally checking her out through the blinds before forcing myself back to my test questions. For the record, she’s very fine.
3. This one I had no way of predicting, but I couldn’t let Natalya Peabody (aka Melissa’s best friend) back in my life under any circumstances. It took a lot of work to get her out the first time. I wasn’t sure if she’d made up that story about Melissa having a forever fiancé out of pure territorial jealousy, or out of protection from me, but either way, Melissa was off-limits.
4. My roommate, Rob, would love nothing more than to get to know someone like Melissa on a personal level, so the less we all interacted, the better. I told Rob that Melissa was not hot. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen her for himself yet.
My phone buzzed and I checked the message from a total stranger. Most of my texts were from total strangers. It was sad, really, when I let myself think about it.
Still have the metal bingo cage for sale?
Yep. $20.
Cool. Txt me your address. I’ll be there in 10.
My last roommate before Rob was a major EBay seller (his words) and even though he couldn’t afford to pay me the last few months of rent, it was all okay (again, his words) because he’d left me all his crap to sell. Yay for me.