Only the Truth: Only You, 2.5

by Thorpe, Elle

I cracked my front door open and stuck my head out to find a hallway full of people. Some carried boxes into the apartment next door, others just stood around drinking from beer bottles.

  What was this, a frat house? I ventured a foot into the hallway, but no one paid me any attention, and I made it through the crowd to the neighbour’s door.

  Standing in the open doorway, I took in their apartment. Moving boxes were piled up, open drinks and packets of chips sitting precariously on top. Half a dozen people sprawled over two large lounges, all hooting and hollering at a man with two women draped all over him. I’d found the source of the woeful singing making my ears bleed. The noise probably drowned out people in the next building, but I knocked pointlessly on the doorway anyway, too uncomfortable to just waltz in and demand to speak to the new tenant.

  The knock fell on deaf ears, no surprise there, but my movements must have caught the eye of the guy singing. He swung his head in my direction, his eyes locking with mine.

  My mouth dropped open.

  Recognition flickered in his eyes, and a grin spread across his face. “Hold my beer, ladies.” He offloaded his microphone and drink to one of the women, who booed him for leaving, and sauntered over to me like he was Damon Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries. Good-looking, no doubt, but as arrogant and cocksure as he’d been a few hours earlier when he’d not only run me over but asked me out. The skin on the back of my neck prickled. This guy had some nerve.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to go out. Now you’re stalking me?”

  Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Unlikely. I’m just unlucky enough to live next door. I came to talk to the tenant.”

  He leant one hand on the wall beside my head. His t-shirt lifted revealing a slice of toned abs that was mouth-wateringly distracting. “You found him.”

  “You.” I choked on the word, all thoughts of abs flying out the window. “You live here?”

  “Just moved in yesterday. Looks like we’re neighbours. Lucky me.”

  OMG. Could this day get any more ridiculous? “Lucky how?” Lucky I didn’t punch him in the face perhaps.

  “Because now I have the opportunity to ask you out again.” He tilted his head to the side. “You won’t turn me down twice. Next time I ask, you’ll say yes.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you? In there, with women hanging off you, then over here begging me to fall at your feet.”

  He chuckled. “I was hardly begging, sweetheart. And you don’t look like the sort of woman to fall at anyone’s feet. I like that.”

  The guy was too smooth. Too charming. Too good-looking. Time to make an exit.

  “Just keep it down. The walls are thin, and I’ve got stuff to do.” He probably wouldn’t, but I’d been the bigger person and asked politely.

  He pushed back off the wall and gave me a mock salute. “Not a problem, neighbour.” He strode across the living room and pulled the microphone plug from its socket, the speakers squawking in protest. He held it up, waggling it at me as his friends groaned and complained. Then he began herding them out the door.

  Huh. Well, what do you know. I gave a tiny nod of thanks before retreating to my place.

  I settled back in at my table, pleased with how that little exchange had gone, if not pleased about the new neighbour himself. I could handle an arrogant, party-throwing doctor. And I was proud of myself for dealing with the situation without it descending into a screaming match. There’d been too many of those in my past. Bree 2.0 was calm, cool, and collected. And she was here to stay.

  Music still filtered through the walls, but it was at a much lower, more acceptable volume, and I recognised the notes of Bruno Mars’ Gorilla. Slow, sexy music. Nothing like the pounding bass or the pop music karaoke tunes. I actually liked this song. And the slower tempo was easier to study to. My eyes were heavy, but if he kept it to this sort of music, I could get two hours of study in, grab a few hours of sleep, then get up early to make up for the time I’d missed. The study session could still be salvaged. I pulled my laptop closer. Then a loud moan echoed through the wall.

  A woman’s voice followed up with, “Yes!” and, in utter disbelief, I turned to stare at our adjoining wall. For the next two minutes and seventeen seconds she proceeded to yell every affirmative phrase she could. “Yes, baby, right there. That’s it. I’m close.” I may as well have been in the room with them, her voice couldn’t have been clearer. I dropped my head to the table and banged it once. Bring back Mr and Mrs Harris, the elderly couple who were in bed by eight p.m. each night and obviously never had sex.

  Were these people deliberately trying to ruin me tonight? I’d been polite about the music. I hadn’t called the cops, though I surely could have. What time did noise restrictions begin? I didn’t know, but surely it was before eleven p.m. And now they were going to have the worlds noisiest sex. The graze on my arm throbbed. My internet was out again. And I still hadn’t called my damn sister.

  Frig this.

  Frig them.

  Frig everything.

  I shoved myself back from the table, not caring that I knocked the chair over in the process and stormed across the room. I curled my fingers into fists, and blood rushed in my ears. Inconsiderate assholes. I’d tell them exactly what I thought of their shit taste in music and their overdone, porn-style moaning.

  As if Dr Porn Star Wannabe was that great in bed.

  I raised my fist to thump on the wall as another woman’s voice joined the first. My eyes widened, and my hand froze. Was he having an…orgy? Maybe it wasn’t a housewarming party, but a sex party? Holy wow.

  I shook my head. Even more reason to tell them off. This was a nice, family area. I could have had young children in here for all they knew. I readied my arm, prepared to beat down the wall and yell every obscenity I could think of, when I heard the voice of my anger management coach in my head, asking me if I really needed to react with anger over this. Had I tried everything in my power to resolve this calmly and rationally?

  I almost stomped my foot, but she would have frowned on that, too. Shit. I probably hadn’t. He’d turned down the music when I’d asked. Maybe I should go over and politely ask if they could put a pillow over her head when she came. Or something. That’s what normal people would do, wouldn’t they?

  Or… They’d just ignore it.

  An incessant little voice in my head taunted that maybe I was so ticked off because I hadn’t had sex in almost a year. Self-imposed sex ban or not, it’s not like I didn’t have the same primal urges as every other twenty-something female. I slunk back to the table as one of the women next door had, what sounded like, a mind-shattering orgasm. I breathed deeply. Good. For. Her.

  I tried to mean it. I really did. I clicked through the website and got the Internet not connected page again. I clenched my fingers but forced each one to relax as I waited for the Wi-Fi reconnect pop-up. I hovered the mouse over my network, neatly labelled with my first initial and surname, when I realised there was a new network available to join.

  Damien’s House of Debauchery.

  Moaner number two started up again, making me roll my eyes. I right-clicked on my own network and navigated to the settings.

  With a small, smug smile on my face, I changed the network name to I can hear you having sex.

  Unless their Wi-Fi was a shitty as mine was, they probably wouldn’t even notice. But the small act of defiance made me feel better. I hadn’t lost my cool. I was still on the reinvention of Bree wagon, but I never claimed to be a saint. I gave up studying and crawled into bed. I fell asleep to the not so dulcet tones of a bedframe hitting the wall.

  3

  Bree

  The shrill beeping of my alarm pierced through the fog of sleep. Five a.m. Blah. My eyes were as scratchy as sandpaper and my body a dead weight. Being conscious right now was deeply unwelcome. But I had a morning routine and I needed to keep it. Especially after the way I’d almost, if not completely, fallen off the cool, calm,
and collected bandwagon yesterday.

  I cringed at how many times I’d lost my temper. First with Dr Guzman, then with Dr Can’t Ride a Bike, then with his porno co-stars. I scrubbed a hand over my face. In the space of one day, I’d almost managed to undo a whole year worth of good.

  But today was a new day. I wasn’t perfect, and learning to control my temper and become a better person was a step-by-step process. And the first step was morning yoga. I’d been doing daily YouTube videos and I liked the way it set up my day. Strong. Positive. Focused.

  But after I pulled on some workout clothes and unrolled my yoga mat in front of the TV, the YouTube app wouldn’t open. Because, of course, the blinking internet was out.

  I clenched my jaw but then forcibly relaxed it. I’d buy a new router today. That was the solution. Not getting pissed off. Just reconnect the internet and carry on with your day, Bree.

  The available network connections popped up, the first one mine, still labelled I can hear you having sex. I couldn’t believe I’d done that. So passive-aggressive. I vowed to change it as soon as I was done with this workout.

  I was just about to connect when I noticed the name of the network beneath mine. Last night it had been called Damien’s House of Debauchery. Right now, it was simply called Jealous?

  My face went hot. Well, that was embarrassing.

  Ugh. Should I go over there and explain? I wondered what Dr Guzman would suggest, but after a moment of pondering, I vowed to just get on with my workout and worry about the new neighbours later. Maybe I’d get lucky and never have to see them face to face. A girl could hope.

  Yoga was good for clearing the mind, and I managed a quick cram session while I ate a hastily put-together omelette. My bike helmet, slightly dinged from my stack yesterday, sat on the table, and I picked it up on my way out. I was still fumbling with my keys, trying to get the screen door to lock when the door next to mine opened.

  I froze as a tall brunette woman and a shorter, curvier blonde tumbled into the hall, laughing. They were the same two women who had been singing when I’d stomped over there last night.

  They kissed, linking their fingers together, then turned back to the doorway where Dr Half Naked stood in nothing but low-slung sleep pants. “See you tonight, Damien.”

  My mouth dropped open as they both kissed him on the cheek then giggled their way down the hall. He leant on the doorframe, watching them go, not noticing I was there.

  “It’s too early in the morning for this,” I mumbled under my breath.

  He started at my voice, then folded his arms across his bare chest. A really frigging nice chest it was, too. Black and grey tattoos circled his pecs and travelled down one arm. I hadn’t expected the body art. They didn’t exactly fit the clean-cut doctor stereotype, but they certainly made my mouth water. And those abs I’d caught a glimpse of last night…well, in full, they could probably cut—

  He coughed, and I snapped my attention back to his smug grin. Silence drew out between us while his gaze roved over me from head to toe then back up again.

  The guy had just sent two women on a walk of shame and no less than thirty seconds later, he was leering at me. He had stamina, I’d give him that.

  “So, are you?” he asked as I finally wrestled my screen door into submission.

  “Am I what?”

  His smirk morphed into a grin. “Jealous?”

  To my mortification my face burned, and I knew I was blushing. I shot him a dirty look and stormed past him towards the elevator. His laughter followed me. “Oh, come on. I was only joking. And you started it!”

  I ignored him, choosing to bypass the elevator. The stairs would be quicker. I flung open the exit and didn’t look back. Of all the men, in all the world, did it have to be him who had moved in next door? So much for starting my day out right. Ugh.

  * * *

  I’d stomped the length of the block before I realised I’d completely bypassed my bike, chained at the front of our building. Oh well. I didn’t dare go back for it, in case I ran into him again. And anyway, walking seemed like a better option.

  I still hadn’t rung my sister.

  And I needed to. I’d promised Dr Guzman I’d do it yesterday, and it was gnawing away at me. The not knowing what she’d say was more distracting than I could afford when I had my first exam in an hour. And there’d been too much losing my temper in the last twenty-four hours. I needed to push forward, not roll back. I pulled my phone from my bag and rang the last number I’d had for her, hoping it was still right.

  My sister and I had been close as kids. She was only two years older, but it had been her bed I’d crawled into at night when I’d had nightmares. It was her shoulder I’d cried on when kids at school had picked on me because I’d been a bit of an ugly duckling. It had been her I’d gushed to when Tim, the boy I’d been crushing on for six months, asked me out. Once upon a time, I could have never imagined anything coming between us. But I’d also never imagined she’d run off with my high school sweetheart. Then marry him. Leaving me with no boyfriend. No best friend. No sister.

  The call tone trilled in my ear as I held my breath, not sure whether I wanted it to be the right number or not. Then a cautious, “Hello?”

  I stopped walking, my mind going completely blank at her voice. It was her. She still had the same number, even after all these years. I closed my eyes.

  “Is anyone there?”

  Was I really doing this? Was I really going to confront the woman who’d run off with the man I’d loved? The man I’d once thought I’d marry? Tim and I had been together from age sixteen to eighteen. Then they’d begun sneaking around behind my back. It had been several years since I’d spoken to either of them. Not since the day I’d found out about them. “Yes,” I answered quietly. “I’m here.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Bree?”

  I nodded. Then realising that was ridiculous, confirmed. “Yes. Hi, Lou.” Just like that, I’d slipped into my childhood nickname for her. I couldn’t help it. Old habits die hard.

  “How…how are you?”

  I plastered a smile and tried to force some enthusiasm into my voice. “I’m fine. I’m good. I’ve got my own place in Sydney, and I’m working on a film set doing hair and makeup. And I’m studying, too. I’m doing really great, actually. How are you? How’s… Tim?”

  She paused for a moment, and when she did answer, her voice was quiet. “He’s good.”

  I nodded again. I really had to stop doing that. “That’s good.” Wow. This conversation was going well. Lou seemed to come to the same conclusion and changed the subject.

  “Do you have time to talk? I could meet you somewhere, for coffee? Just name a place and I’ll get there.”

  Whoa. Of all the ways I thought this would play out, her asking me out for coffee was not one of them. “Uh, no. Sorry. I have an exam in an hour. I just called to say…actually I don’t know what I called to say. I just called.”

  “I want to talk to you. I’ve wanted to call you so many times, but I just never knew what the right thing to do was. I didn’t want to hurt you more than we already had.”

  Something twisted inside me. Something I’d long buried because it had once hurt so badly it had nearly destroyed me. Lou and Tim had been the two people closest to me, and they’d betrayed me in the worst way possible. They couldn’t hurt me more than they already had.

  “I can’t do coffee. I really do have an exam.”

  “Dinner then? Saturday night? Come to our place. I’ll cook, and we can catch up.”

  I bit my lip. It was one thing for me to call her, and to speak to her briefly on the phone. But to see her face to face? To see them together? No.

  “I don’t think so, Lou.”

  “Please? I know there’s a lot of bad blood between us. But you called me. There must be some little part of you that wants to work this out? Please. Just give me a chance to explain. Come for dinner.”

  I sighed. I could
practically hear Dr Guzman jumping up and down on her lounge with pom poms, encouraging me to go. “Okay. Dinner would be…nice.”

  It probably wouldn’t be. How the hell was I supposed to sit across the table from my sister and my ex and watch them play happy families while I sat on the other side, alone and pathetic? The woman they’d screwed over, still a spinster. They’d probably be able to tell I hadn’t had so much as a kiss in the past year.

  No. That wasn’t going to happen. If I was going to go to dinner, I wasn’t going as some pathetic loser.

  I needed a date.

  4

  Damien

  “What are you grinning about?”

  I stacked a pile of papers, tapping the edges on the reception desk to align them all before I turned said grin on Cleo. She pulled her headset off her ear and raised a knowing eyebrow at me.

  “What? I’m not grinning.”

  “You look like the cat that got the cream.”

  I laughed and shook my head but leant in a little closer so the patients in the waiting room behind me wouldn’t hear. “I’m trying to think up ways to impress a woman I met.”

  “You met someone?” She gave me a genuine smile. “Damien, that’s great. What’s her name?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. I wracked my brain. “You know what? I’ve no idea.”

  “What do you mean? Did you have a one-night stand?” she hissed. “That’s not like you. You love having a girlfriend. But it has been ages since you broke up with Cassidy. I could understand…”

  I shook my head. “No, no. Nothing like that.” Though she was right. It had been ages since Cass and I had broken up, and my hand was getting pretty boring. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been looking, but no one had even remotely piqued my interest. Until yesterday when I’d crashed into a hot blonde, and then later when I realised she was my neighbour.

  “You look like shit this morning. You sure you weren’t up all night, making some poor woman scream?”