Neighbor Dearest (12 page)

Was it sick that I was considering it just so I could touch him again?

“I really don’t want to.”

He stopped walking and faced me. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yes.”

“One of the last memories I have of my father was riding that coaster with him. We came here the week before he died. That’s part of the reason why I wanted to come back. I hadn’t been able to return here since. I felt it was time. Coming back here was on my bucket list, but I didn’t want to do it alone. I wanted
you
with me, because you comfort me, Chelsea.” He pointed up to the giant coaster. “Tackling that thing is sort of the final step today. I really don’t want to go up there without you next to me. So, see…I might need you to hold my hand just as much as you need me.”

How was I possibly going to say no to that?

On the verge of tears, I said, “Okay.”

He was beaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Just like many things in life, the anticipation was far worse than the actual fall. I chose not to take Damien’s hand, instead opting to hold on tightly with both of mine. The anxiety that escalated on the way up unraveled when we plunged down for the first time. It turned out to be exhilarating, and I was really glad that I’d experienced it. I guess the ride was sort of like Damien: I knew it was probably going to end, that it wasn’t really going anywhere, but I was still enjoying the ups and downs of knowing him.

A little dizzy when we stepped off, I said, “Wow. That was actually really fun.”

“Thank you for going with me.”

“I guess we’re even today. We helped each other out in different ways.”

He moved a piece of hair away from my face. “The sun is setting. I used to love watching all of these lights from a distance on the beach. Wanna take a walk before we head home?”

A walk on the beach with Damien sounded exactly like how I wanted to end the day. “Sure.”

We grabbed some cotton candy and made our way to the beach, which had emptied out. It was a cool evening. Damien took off his jacket and threw it over my shoulders. The wind was blowing my hair into my face and into the cotton candy. He surprised me when he took off his beanie, too, and placed it over my head.

“That should hold it back so you can eat.”

I loved the warm feel of the knit fabric on my head.

“Thanks.”

He looked even more handsome with his hair flattened from the hat. I was having a hard time preventing myself from looking over at him instead of the magnificent amusement park lights in the distance.

The beauty of this night was making me emotional. It was quiet aside from the sound of the waves crashing. With each step, the realization of everything that happened today was starting to hit me. At one point, I suddenly stopped walking and just stared out into the lights in the distance.

His voice from behind startled me. “Say it, Chelsea.”

I turned around to face him. “What?”

“I can sense all of the thoughts spinning around in that pretty little head. I could feel them for the past several minutes. You need to get something off your chest. Do it.”

“Why did you have to kiss me like that today?” I finally spit out.

“I thought it was clear why I kissed you.”

“I know
why
you did it…but why did you have to make it feel so…real?”

His chest was rising and falling as his breathing quickened. He was struggling before he whispered, “It
was
real.”

“I’m confused.”

“Every part of that kiss was real, but it still shouldn’t have happened.”

“There’s supposedly nothing more than a friendship going on between us, right? So, why does being around you hurt so badly sometimes? I think I might’ve figured it out tonight. It’s because you tell me one thing, but your eyes tell me another, your
heart
tells me another. Your heart was beating faster than mine today. Why won’t you open it up to me?”

His eyes looked pained when he raised his voice. “My heart is broken, Chelsea. Alright?”

“Who broke your heart? Did she hurt you?”

The girl in that video?

“Who are you referring to?”

“Did
someone
hurt you? Is that why you’re so afraid of commitment? What happened to you to make you this way?”

He looked up at the starry sky before speaking. “It’s just who I am, how God made me. I can’t be what you need for the long term.”

“I don’t even
care
about the long term.”

“You say that, but you don’t mean it.”

“You’re what I need—what I need
today.”

“And you
have
me…as a friend…always. I failed today, though. I wasn’t being a very good friend when I let that kiss get out of control. I got carried away, and I’m so sorry. But it won’t happen again.”

No, it won’t.

God, that hurt. It was like he’d closed the door on us and threw away the key. He might as well have just thrown a pile of sand in my eyes, too.

But I finally heard his message loud and clear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DUCKING DRUNK

Things changed after the night in Santa Cruz.

Damien tried to pretend it didn’t happen, but I just couldn’t.

Angry at myself for my inability to control my feelings, I’d decided that avoiding him would be better than trying to deal with things. I didn’t want him to witness my weakness anymore.

When he’d call me over for breakfast, I’d make up an excuse. When he’d come by, I’d act cold until he gave up and left.

The dogs were barking more than ever. I knew they were trying to get me to come over, and it pained me because I missed them. And I missed
him.
I just didn’t know how to be around him without feeling the sadness of his rejection.

Continuing to be his friend seemed impossible because I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him.

My phone chimed one morning.

The dogs miss you.

Chelsea: I miss them, too.

Damien: It’s not fair to them what you’re doing. You can’t just come see them for five minutes?

Chelsea: I can’t.

Damien: It’s not just them. I miss you, too.

Chelsea: I’m sorry.

With each day, the pain only got worse. It was the same kind of despair one experiences after a breakup, but in this case, there had been no romantic relationship, of course.

After a couple of weeks, I’d basically hit rock bottom.

It was late on a Friday night, and I’d decided that I was going to make myself this cocktail that I’d read about in one of my romance novels. It was called a Weeping Orgasm. The ingredients were blueberry vodka, Sprite, and fresh berries.

After downing three of them, I was basically off of my ass. Feeling the effects of my liquid courage, I opened the dating site that Damien had set me up on when we first met and decided to play around on it.

For shits and giggles, I looked up Online Damien’s profile and saw it was active. That meant that even though the free trial had run out, he’d paid to continue the subscription. That also meant that while he was choosing not to date me, he was using the site to meet other women.

My blood was boiling. My head had already been messed up from the alcohol, but now it felt like it was full-on spinning. While he’d continuously rejected me, he was basically on here, trolling for sex. I’d show him.

I clicked on the option to send him a message and typed.

Wanna fuck?

My heart was pounding. He probably wouldn’t even see it tonight. The little dot that would have been green if he was online remained unlit.

I immediately went back to try to delete what I’d written but there was no option to do that once a message was sent.

I looked closer at what I’d messaged him and realized it hadn’t come through the way I’d intended. The auto correct had actually changed the message to:

Wanna duck?

Great. That was smooth. Not only had I made a drunken fool of myself to try to prove a point, but the message actually made no sense at all.

I shut my laptop in defeat and nearly passed out.

Some time later, the sound of my front door slamming shut caused me to hop up from the bed.

Damien was slowly walking toward me as I moved backwards away from him.

My heart was racing. “How did you get in here?”

Damien lifted his key in answer to my question. I guess that was a dumb inquiry given he owned the building.

He backed me up against wall. “Did you just message me to come over and fuck you?”

“Technically, it said duck.”

“Technically, you’re drunk.”

“Technically, you might be right.” I snorted.

“You reek of alcohol, Chelsea. You think this is funny? Getting sloshed alone like this? Saying shit like that to me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You think it’s all a joke, that you can just say stuff like that, that you don’t have an effect on me? It’s taking every bit of strength in my body not to accept your offer right now, take you against this wall and fuck you so hard for being a bitch these past two weeks.”

“I wish you would.”

“If I had a condom and you weren’t drunk as hell, I just might have. And that scares the shit out of me. That’s how little control I have around you.”

“Do it.”

“I wouldn’t touch you like this.”

“You wouldn’t touch me, period,” I said bitterly.

“That’s what you think? You have no idea how close I’ve come to losing it with you so many times. No clue.”

“Really. When?”

“That day you came over smelling like bacon for one. Don’t think I can’t tell exactly what you’re thinking when you look at me. You are so transparent, and it drives me crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was half-naked when I opened the door that day, remember? You were fucking me with your eyes. I wanted to rip your shirt off faster than the dogs did.”

“What else?”

“That night we were hanging out when I cut that douchebag’s shirt off of you. I wanted to cut everything else off you too and fuck every memory of him out of you right then and there on the kitchen counter. Then, I wanted to wrap you in my own shirt and fuck you all over again. You want me to continue, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

God, he was turning me on.

“When we kissed, I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to stop. It was by no means the first kiss I’d ever had, but it was the
best
kiss, Chelsea. The best. Ever. I never wanted it to end.”

I breathed out, “I know.”

“And this next thing…I’m only going to admit because you’re drunk as shit and won’t remember it tomorrow.”

“What?”

“When you were licking the tip of that fucking corn dog…I wanted it to be my cock in your mouth. So fucking badly. I’m so hard right now just thinking about your lips wrapped around my dick. Remember how I went to find a bathroom after lunch that day? I went to jerk off because I couldn’t stop thinking about you taking my cock down your throat.”

“Wow.”

“So, yeah. You think I don’t want you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m always one second away from losing it.”

Don’t ask me what compelled me to say what came out of my mouth next. We would just have to blame it on the alcohol.

“I dream about the mole on your ass.”

He backed away a bit, and his eyes widened. “What?”

Realizing the mistake I’d made, I tried to save myself. “You have an amazing ass.”

“That’s not what you said. How do you know I have that birthmark?”

“Um…”

“What the fuck, Chelsea?”

“I’ve seen your ass.”

“Okay…I’m missing something, because I’ve never
shown
you my ass.”

“I know.”

“So, then how did you see it?” When I didn’t respond, he simply said, “Chelsea…”

Having backed myself into a corner both literally and figuratively, I had no choice but to tell the truth. “Okay. So, you know how I was watching the dogs. Well, Drewfus went under your bed. I was trying to get him out. There was this box.” Swallowing, I said, “I opened it. I just wanted to know more about you. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have been snooping, but I was curious. This disc said
Jamaica
on it. I never dreamt it was a sex tape. I watched a little of it. I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

A long, very uncomfortable silence ensued. He seriously looked stunned, and it made me feel so much worse.

Say something.

He finally inched his face close to mine and whispered, “You little fucking perv.”

I kept waiting for him to say something else. My breathing was erratic as I stayed backed up against the wall with his face in mine.

After several seconds of silence, he simply backed away and left, slamming the door behind him.

***

“You haven’t heard from him at all?”

“No. The last thing he did was call me a ‘little fucking perv’ before going back to his apartment that night. It’s been a week and nothing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Remind me never to drink like that again. Nothing good ever comes from it.”

“So weird that he would admit all of that stuff—that he wanted to stick his dick in your mouth and what not—then be so quick to call
you
a perv for accidentally stumbling upon that video.”

“I didn’t accidentally watch it for five whole minutes, Jade. I don’t blame him. It was an invasion of his privacy. There’s no excuse.”

“So, what now?”

“Try to move on from this. Try to move on from
him
once and for all. What choice do I have?”

“Are you still seeing that guy, Brian?”

“No. He gave up on me. Just as well. He was a nice guy, but I just wasn’t that into him.”

“You’re not into anyone but Damien.”

“Well, that has to change. I’m going out with someone new this Friday, in fact.”