The Nice Guy Next Door

by Haley Zaragoza

  “You need me to drive you?” I ask. I scratch the back of my head, going over my schedule in my mind. It’s pretty crazy this week. I have to go to court for someone trying to fight his DWI charges (He won’t win. The guy was clearly trashed.), and we have a big area meeting.

  “Could you? Would you? Pretty please with sprinkles on top!” she says, making me laugh. I haven’t heard that phrase since I was eight years old. She doesn’t have to beg. I would pretty much drop anything to help her.

  Gertrude told her to take whatever day she can, so long as it gets done. According to Millie, Gertrude said she’s tired of watching her wince from the pain. She schedules her surgery for the upcoming Tuesday, because I’m already off that day.

  I imagine this is what it would be like to be an old married couple, making appointments around each other’s work schedules. I’d like for Millie to be the other half of my old married couple.

  I’ve never been anyone’s chauffeur for dental surgery before, but if this is what it’s always like, I will never do this again. I think they got a little carried away with the laughing gas back there. I’m trying to get Millie into her seat, and she reaches up and places both of her hands on my cheeks. For a second, I think she’s about to kiss me, but then she smooshes my cheeks and says, “Boop!” She doubles over in a fit of laughter, and I’m no closer to having her buckled than I was five minutes ago. I could really use the leg and arm restraints from my patrol car right about now.

  “Millie, they said you weren’t supposed to talk for a little while,” I remind her.

  “Oh, right,” she says. She sits up and mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key, but then she goes into another giggle fit.

  She won’t stop wiggling around, so I put my forearm across her shoulders to hold her in place and quickly buckle the seatbelt over her. She reaches up and squeezes my arm and says, “So strong.” I pull my arm back like she’s burned me and run around to the driver’s seat before she can cause any kind of commotion in my truck.

  My presence, however, does nothing to deter her from causing chaos. I’ve arrested drunks who were easier to contain than Millie is right now. I’m driving down the highway, and “her song” comes on the radio. She turns the volume up so loud that there’s now a horrible ringing in my ear. Seriously, I have tinnitus now, thanks to her.

  She sings along to the song, and I’m sad to say that I’ve never heard such horrible singing in all my life. It’s like a dying donkey. I wish I could say that it’s only because of the giant cotton swabs in her mouth, but I get the suspicion that she would sound almost as terrible if she weren’t on laughing gas and partially gagged at the moment.

  She really needs to stop singing and talking, though. The oral surgeon was very adamant that she remain quiet for a while. There’s no stopping her, short of muzzling her. She suddenly stops moving and watches me drive with a dreamy look on her face, and I think she’s about to fall asleep. That would keep her quiet! I’ve never felt such relief before, but my relief is very short-lived.

  “You’re the most perfect male specimen I’ve ever seen,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. I turn to glance at her, and she’s studying me like I’m under a microscope. Her mouth is puckered, and her eyes are squinty as her gaze roves over my face and down to my chest and legs.

  How does one respond to that? I choose to ignore her and focus on the road, but she makes it impossible. She leans over and studies my face up close. Her face is literally two inches from mine. I can feel her breath on my cheek. I can smell her perfume. Why did she bother putting perfume on for dental surgery? It smells a little citrusy and a little like vanilla.

  “Do you use facial creams?” she asks. “Your skin is flawless.” She rubs my cheek with her hand, and I hold my breath. I know it’s just the laughing gas making her goofy.

  “Millie, sit down. You’re distracting me,” I tell her, praying she’ll actually listen to me. She hasn’t listened to anything I’ve said since shoving her into this truck, so I don’t have much hope.

  “Distracting, huh? You know, you distract me. Sometimes I’ll be trying to work, and I’ll see you out in your driveway, working out. How’s a girl supposed to get any writing done when she has a view like that?” she asks and gestures to my entire body wildly.

  My thoughts immediately snag on the word “writing.” That must be what she was doing at the coffee shop that day when I found her. She was embarrassed and hid it as fast as she could. She loves reading—obviously, she’s a librarian. It makes sense that she would enjoy writing too. I can picture her sitting at home, writing racy romance scenes in secret while wearing her glasses and her silly t-shirts.

  “What are you writing, Millie?” I ask, hoping she’ll give me some details before she remembers she doesn’t want anyone to know about it.

  “A romance novel. Duh! But that’s beside the point,” she says and points her finger in my face. “I have to tell you, even if you don’t want to hear it…” She takes a deep breath, and I’m a little scared about where this is going. Anything could come out of that mouth right now.

  “Jameson, I have a major crush on you. I tried to ignore your sexy bod, but look at you!” she shouts while flinging her arms all over the cab of my truck.

  My heart stops beating. Just completely stops for a solid minute, I’m sure of it. I’ve died. Once I’ve recovered from my shock, I say, “So, you’re only interested in me for my physique?”

  “Of course not! I thought we could be friends because you’re so nice. You’re funny too…but I can’t ignore those muscles. My hands just want to run all over them every time I see you. And that would make our friendship weird, right?”

  Yes, that would be a strange friendship, indeed.

  This conversation is getting out of hand, and if she remembers any of this later, she’s going to be mortified. “Millie, I think the drugs are getting to you,” I suggest, trying to play it off. Maybe she does find me attractive and has a thing for me, but it’s not enough for her to want to act on it. She’s reminded me over and over again that we’re only friends. She’s not interested in pursuing a relationship with me—or anyone else, for that matter. Or so she says.

  According to Millie, romantic relationships are more trouble than they’re worth. It’s pretty freaking sad that she feels that way. It makes me angry that the only examples she’s had of love have ended so badly that she wants nothing to do with it. I hate to think of her spending the rest of her life alone. Not completely alone. Of course she’ll have her sister and friends.

  But Millie deserves someone to come home to in the evenings after a long day of entertaining toddlers at work. She deserves to have someone to snuggle with on the couch, because I know how much she loves snuggles. She should have someone incessantly reminding her how beautiful she is, how kind she is, how funny she is.

  “What drugs?” she asks in outrage. “I have never in my life touched drugs, and how dare you suggest otherwise!” She’s trying to stand in the truck, but she’s buckled, and it’s hard to stand in a vehicle to begin with. She tries to get her seatbelt unbuckled, but I lay my hand over hers to stop her.

  “I just meant the laughing gas…”

  “Oh, okay. I love your hands,” she says, her momentary anger forgotten. She flips my palm up and runs her fingers over all of my callouses. She sends shivers up my arm and down my spine. I should stop her. She’s doing things to my heart that I know I shouldn’t allow her to do. She won’t act on any of these feelings once she’s back to her normal self, and I’ll be left in a weird limbo. I’ll know her true feelings for me, but her decision won’t change.

  I pull my hand away from her and grip the steering wheel. She continues to ramble about nonsense mostly. I tune it out and focus on my driving.

  “Jameson! Quit yer yappin’ and get up there to take your turn at bat!” Seth shouts from the pitcher’s mound. I’ve been wrapped up in my conversation with Colby, detailing all of the ridiculous things Millie said to
me on our way home from having her wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday. I haven’t gotten to the part where she admitted she has a crush on me, though.

  I grab my bat and walk to the home plate to take my turn. My heart’s not in the game anymore. It’s the last inning, and my team’s losing so badly there’s no way we’re coming back. Seth apparently wants to rub salt in the wound of our defeat, because he starts pitching fastballs. He pitched for our high school baseball team, and about ten different colleges wanted him. Much to all of the schools’ dismay, he didn’t go to college at all, because he knew he wanted to be a firefighter.

  I strike out, which ends the game. My team breathes a sigh of relief that our torture is finally over for this week. Everyone gives back pats and handshakes as we gather up our belongings. I lie on the ground and stare up at the pink sky.

  “What was up with those pitches?” I shout over to Seth, who’s laughing with some other guys a few feet away. He doesn’t normally do fancy pitches. We just play for fun, so he keeps it pretty simple. If he pitched like that all the time, we’d never get any hits.

  “I figured I should put you all out of your misery. You’ve seemed distracted. What’s going on?” he asks and lies down beside me.

  I haven’t decided if I am going to tell my friends about Millie’s drug-induced admission or not. It doesn’t feel fair to her to tell people about what she said when she wasn’t in her right mind. But on the other hand, I need advice. I don’t know how to act around her anymore. I tried to bring her a milkshake yesterday when I got off work, and it was so awkward. I was a bumbling idiot, and she definitely noticed. She asked me if I was okay at least a dozen times. And this morning will go down in history as the most embarrassing encounter of my life—or non-encounter, depending on how you look at it.

  We were both walking out to our cars to head to work, and Millie started walking over to me when she saw me. I hopped in my vehicle so fast and sped away before she could even get halfway across the yard. I regretted that decision almost immediately, but what was I supposed to do? Turn around and admit that I have no idea what came over me? No, better to pretend like that never happened at all.

  But things cannot continue on like this. She’s my next-door neighbor. She’s the girl I’m crazy about. Things have to get back to normal, and I don’t know how to make that happen.

  “Things are weird between me and Millie,” I admit to my friends.

  “Haven’t things always been pretty weird between y’all?” Seth asks.

  Colby elbows him in the side and says, “Dude, let him finish.”

  I blab about everything she confessed to me after her surgery, and Seth laughs hysterically. Colby rolls his eyes and says, “Of course she loves you. All women love you.” I pop him in the thigh with my sweat rag.

  “She doesn’t love me. She said ‘crush.’ But she didn’t mean to tell me that. What am I supposed to do?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “The way I see it, you have two options. One, confront her and force her to admit her feelings. Or two, pretend like it never happened and see if she ever tells you how she feels,” Seth says with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Colby appears deep in thought while he scratches the back of his head. “You could always tell her how you feel, though,” he says. “You know she at least likes you a little bit. There’s little to no risk in it for you.”

  Excuse me…there’s a ton of risk! She could completely shut me out of her life. What part of “completely against relationships” does this guy not understand? I’m crazy about this woman, and while she may have a schoolgirl crush on me, it’s not enough for her to risk her heart with me. I’m not going to sabotage things by putting all of my feelings out there for her to stomp on. Not yet, anyway.

  “How am I supposed to just act like nothing happened?” I groan.

  “Easy. She obviously doesn’t remember what she said, or she would be acting weird. If she doesn't remember, then it’s not like you have anything to try to hide,” Seth says nonchalantly.

  “Just pretend like you don’t know,” Colby adds.

  “But I do know…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Millie

  Everything is going wrong today. Or it could just be that I’m in a bad mood. My mouth hurts, despite the massive amounts of pain meds I’ve been taking, and it feels like everyone has decided to come to the library today. Normally, that would be great—amazing, even! I love it when the library is busy, because it means people are reading and saving money by using our resources.

  Today, however, I just want everyone to leave. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. No computer for you! No lounging and reading for you! Sorry, kids, story time is canceled today—not really, Gertrude would fire me if I canceled story time.

  Hannah and I are busy setting up the craft supplies for the rowdy group of preschoolers when Tess walks in with her bouncing three-year-old daughter, Lily, and baby Riley strapped to her chest. Her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and there’s a glob of spit-up on her sleeve that I don’t think she’s aware of.

  She immediately plops herself down into a chair and goes into a monologue about how exhausting her morning has been. Hannah rushes over to her with eager hands to take baby Riley. She shushes and coos as the baby protests being taken away from her mother.

  I go to sit beside her, and she recognizes another soul in distress with expert precision. “What’s been going on?'' she asks.

  “Everything hurts, we’ve been so busy today, and Jameson is acting really weird. And I don’t even know why!” I rant. “The last time I saw him, he brought me the most delicious chocolate milkshake, and he was acting so bizarre. He could barely finish a sentence, and he wouldn’t make eye contact with me. And I tried to hug him, but he scooted away from me.”

  “Hmm, was he normal before your surgery?” Tess asks while lifting Lily into her lap. She distractedly plays with the little girl’s hair as she ponders Jameson’s odd behavior.

  “Yes, he was perfectly normal.”

  “And nothing happened?”

  “Not that I can think of,” I reply.

  “Maybe he said something weird to you while you were on the laughing gas, and he’s worried you remember it,” she suggests. I have no idea what he could have said. I clearly don’t remember anything.

  “Or maybe you said something weird…” Hannah says, cutting into the conversation. Both Tess’s and my gazes cut to her as she bounces Riley in her arms. My heart is going to beat out of my chest. Could I have said something that is making him avoid me? What would be so awful to make him run away from me—literally? This day keeps getting worse and worse.

  I can’t live like this. Ever since talking with Hannah and Tess yesterday, I’ve been tortured with thoughts of what mortifying things I could have said to Jameson. At first, I decided that I would just pretend like nothing is wrong, and then I thought maybe I would avoid him since he’s avoiding me. But now, after two days of agonizing over what I may or may not have said, I’m determined to ask him what’s going on.

  I’ve been camped out by the front window for thirty minutes, waiting for Jameson to get home from work. He’s going to talk to me whether he wants to or not. But he better get home soon, or I might lose my nerve. Even now, I’m contemplating the merits of this plan. Do I really need answers this badly?

  Yes, Millie! You do need answers.

  I dance around in front of the window, because the urge to pee took over my body about ten minutes ago. I know that he went to work at 7 AM this morning, which means he should have been home by 5 PM. Coincidentally, that’s right around the time I started this window-side vigil. Where is he? Why is he late?

  He’ll be home any minute now. I can’t risk going to the bathroom and missing him. The crunch of tires on gravel draws my attention away from Jameson’s driveway to my own. Lo walks inside a minute later and stops in the doorway when she sees me at the window.

  “Millie, you okay
? Why are you dancing by the window? Are you trying to put on a show for the neighbors?” Lo asks with a laugh. She dumps her backpack and lunchbox onto the floor and kicks off her shoes.

  Just then, I see Jameson’s patrol car pull into his driveway. I push Lo out of the way and run out the door. I make it to Jameson’s car in record time. Seriously, I could have just set a world record, and we’d never know.

  I’ve noticed that he always sits in his car for a few minutes when he gets home. Not that I stalk him or anything. It’s just an observation that any nosy neighbor would notice. I don’t know what he’s doing in there, but who cares? I swing his door open and say, “You have to tell me what happened the other day when I was hopped up on the happy juice!”

  Two things happen immediately after my proclamation. First, Jameson’s eyes grow abnormally large, and his face turns the brightest color of red that I’ve ever seen on a human face. And second, raucous laughter sounds over the speakers of his car. And I know, without a doubt, it’s not a radio DJ. I’ve just shouted those words while he’s on a phone call. I feel my face heat, so now Jameson and I have matching red faces. We’re so cute with our matchy faces.

  “Hey, Sarge. Can I give you a call back?” he asks the person on the other end of the phone call. Oh great, it’s his boss. I suppose I should have put a little more thought into my plan of attack.

  He gets off the call and then turns to me with an incredulous face. I’ve annoyed him, and I really can’t blame him. If he did that when I was on the phone with Gertrude, she’d be furious with me for unprofessional behavior. Thankfully, his sergeant didn’t sound put out in the least. In fact, it sounded like he found the whole situation entertaining, so I’ve got that going for me.

  Jameson climbs out of his car and stands in front of me, looking very intimidating. Why did I decide to do this while he was in uniform? His hands are resting on his belt, and he looks even more handsome than usual in his tan uniform. The way that cowboy hat sits on his head makes me all melty inside. He’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t seem to function enough to string two words together.