Dear Neighbor: A Standalone Romance Page 2

My new neighbor.

  “Did you travel far?” I asked.

  “A few hours,” Mr. Hunter replied with his stern tone.

  “So, you’re new in town?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  This family was very hard to talk to.

  “I hope you settle in okay. It’s a nice quiet street this.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.”

  “Any reason in particular why you decided to come here?” I asked.

  The dad nodded. “My job relocated.”

  “Ah, right.”

  I pretended to ignore Miles, but I couldn’t stop focusing on him in my periphery. He stood close to me, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, scowling at me. Unlike when I introduced myself to him, his entire focus was on me now. His eyes scanned me up and down. I didn’t know what to make of him. I didn’t know if he was disgusted at me, or curious. Or both.

  He was a mysterious guy, but I didn’t want to give him the time of day. He’d already been rude enough for my liking.

  “Well, see you guys around,” I said with a smile. “If you need anything, just knock on the door over there.” I nodded at my house.

  “We will,” the dad replied stiffly.

  I doubt he would ever want to talk to me again.

  I gave them a little wave, and I got none in response. I turned around and skipped back towards the house, trying to blow Miles Hunter out of my mind. The guy thought he was cool. By the way he took me in with his eyes he probably thought he was above me.

  He was a gorgeous man, but not someone I would want to be friends with. His aloofness put me right off him immediately.

  I stepped into my house and closed the door, feeling my heart rate return to normal.

  Thankfully, my stepdad was gone, probably back in Mom’s room. My sister was on the couch, pretending to watch that cheesy Lifetime movie, but I knew what she had just been doing. She had just been pressed up against the window watching me chat to the new family. She couldn’t hide it.

  Her little face spun around to me when I entered.

  “What were they like?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “And that guy?”

  “I don’t care about him,” I replied, dumping myself back to my regular spot on the couch and shoving my hand back into the bag of spicy Doritos. “He’s just too cocky for his own good.”

  2

  MILES

  I took my seat at the table and stared down at my fork shining under the harsh lights of the living room.

  Great.

  Fucking great.

  I thought I’d be able to get out of family dinner for once, seeing as we had literally only moved into the house a few hours earlier, but in typical Dad fashion, he had made us all sit around the new dinner table together. Pretending to be one big happy family.

  Ha.

  That was a big lie.

  It’s tradition. That’s what Dad had said.

  But what tradition was it? Forcing your wife to cook up a storm even with half your stuff still sealed in moving boxes? That fucking tradition?

  He knew that a family dinner pissed me off, that was the reason why he had forced us all to sit together like this. He knew I didn’t want to spend another moment in his presence. He intended to humiliate me.

  And it was working.

  “Help yourself to the peas,” my Mom said, passing a bowl towards me. I took it from her and scattered a few onto my plate. I didn’t intend to eat much tonight. I wanted this done and dusted quickly and to get back to my room as fast as I could.

  “What do you say to your mother?” my Dad asked me, looking at me with one eyebrow raised from across the table. His patronizing tone made my skin crawl.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Good,” Dad replied. “I didn’t raise you to disregard basic manners.”

  The more annoyed I got from him, the more powerful he seemed to grow. I hated it. I hated feeling like just some other teenage brat rebelling against their father, but I was smart enough to know that was exactly who I was. Just another mopey teenager forced to live under the same roof as their restrictive parents and moaning about it.

  How cliché.

  “Are you ready to start your new school tomorrow?” Dad asked me.

  “Yep.”

  “You have all your things ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Your bag’s packed?”

  “Yep.”

  Dad raised a fork and pointed it towards me like a threat. “Because I don’t want to go into your room and see that your new bedroom is a mess and that you haven’t packed your school bag. You’ve had all afternoon to get ready.”

  “Yep.”

  “So, it is packed?”

  I shrugged and looked down at my plate. I played around with my food, stabbing some mashed potato to avoid meeting my Dad’s glare. “I said yes.”

  My father’s eyes narrowed. “Good,” he said, turning the fork back to his food. I watched him stuff a pile of peas into his mouth. “Because this is your final chance, you know that?”

  “I do.”

  “No more fights.”

  “Honey, maybe that’s enough,” my Mom interjected, patting my father on the arm as if to gently restrain him. “He understands.”

  Dad faced her, chewing on another load of peas. “I don’t think he does. I don’t think Miles understands the severity of the situation here for him or the fact that he has only two choices. This school is his last chance. It’s the end of the line for him unless he wants to follow my path.”

  I didn’t know what was worse, the way he talked about me as if I wasn’t there or the way he talked about my choices as if I wasn’t eighteen and couldn’t make my own decisions in life.

  “It’s stupid for me to start a new school so late,” I said, turning back to playing with my mash potato.

  Dad straightened up in his chair. “Don’t use language like that around your mother,” he barked.

  “It’s true, though. What’s the point of me starting so late? It’ll be graduation in a few weeks.”

  “Do you want to enlist in the Army?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you know very well that they’re your only options. You either go to school and graduate, or you join the military. That’s it. They’re your two options.”

  The very last thing I wanted to do was join the military. That’s what my Dad did when he was my age, and for my entire life he never stopped going on about it. To him, the Army was like a religion.

  For him, there existed only two pathways in life: university or the military.

  And I didn’t care for either.

  “I’ll go to school,” I replied.

  “This is your last chance, or you will enlist just like I did. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” I sarcastically stressed the sir with a hiss of the s.

  Dad really did not seem very pleased with that.

  “Don’t disrespect me at the dinner table, boy.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I know what you’re playing at.”

  Under the table, my hand curled into a tight fist. I was getting angry. Real angry. The kind of anger inside me that I was afraid of, the kind I knew I couldn’t control.

  The kind of anger that spurred me into proper physical violence. The same fighting that led me to change schools and cause my Dad to threaten to forcefully enlist me in the Army.

  That was it. I had enough sitting there around the dinner table playing happy family.

  I dropped my fork on my plate and stood up. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “I’m going to my room.”

  “Eat your food,” Dad replied.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Before there was the chance for him to really lose his temper, I rushed out of the living room and into my new bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I locked it.

  If I spent another minute around that dinner table with him, I knew I’d lose my shit. I was usually a very cool guy, but my Dad knew exactly what the right buttons were to push to send me over the edge. I didn’t want to lose control.

  I really hated how he made me into that cliché rebellious teenager.

  I stood in the middle of my bare room with the lights off. I was in darkness, just making out the outline of my bed against the wall and the moonlight streaming through my window.

  I relaxed my hand, still formed into a fist from the dinner table. I hated feeling that anger again. The last time I’d felt that angry I was punching the shit out of some punk who had insulted me. The guy deserved it, but because I was the big, tall one who’d dealt some serious damage that meant I was the one to get the full brunt of punishment. Apparently, I was the wild one, even though the guy I’d beaten was the one who was insulting both me and the girl I was with. That was why I was kicked out of my last school. That’s why I had to start a new one with only weeks left until graduation.

  I took a step towards the glass and looked out across the yard, taking in a deep breath. I tried to calm myself. To not think about Dad. I glanced up at the half-moon above. It was bright tonight.

  This was a quiet street.

  I had to still unpack my moving boxes, but there wasn’t much to take out anyway. I didn’t really care for having many material possessions, unlike a lot of teenagers I came across who were obsessed with phones and clothes and the latest gadgets. I didn’t care for any of that shit.

  I didn’t really care for much at all.

  I leaned against the window, my forehead against the cold glass.

  I couldn’t wait to escape. Get out of this house.

  I really didn’t want to start school the next day. I was never good in those environments. I could never fit in.

  But, as Dad said
, it was either school or the military.

  I didn’t know what I was even going to do after school. Maybe the Army was my best option. At least there was structure there. At least I could get away from here. Being on the front lines in Afghanistan surely was preferable to Dad’s dinner table.

  My eyes flickered over to the house opposite. A light was on in one of the windows. I could make out an outline of a girl walking around. I recognized her immediately.

  It was that chick from earlier. The girl who introduced herself to us as we arrived, the one who bounded over the grass and offered me her hand like we were work colleagues or we were going to be friends or something.

  Abby?

  That was her name.

  She was all cheer and smiles when she greeted us, but it felt like she was judging me the whole time. She spoke to my parents, but I could tell she was focused entirely on me. It felt like she was appalled by me or something. What did I do to her to make her judge me like that? Who was she to be on such a high horse?

  She was cute, I could give her that. Pale skin, blue eyes, and long wavy brown locks.

  Pretty.

  My type of girl.

  But I didn’t like the way she looked at me when she came bouncing over.

  Well, maybe if we were going to be neighbors, we should find out more about each other. I could clearly see her bedroom and the front door of her house from my window, it was only right that we spoke again. Maybe I might be able to find out why she didn’t like me. I mean, there wasn’t anything else to do on that boring street late at night. Only a few hours after moving into this new house and I was already bored enough to start picking on my neighbors.

  I watched her from across the yard. She was working on something. Homework, perhaps? Her eyebrows were scrunched as she concentrated. Her lips formed into a slight pout.

  Yep, she was really pretty.

  I wasn’t stalking her. She was the one with her window open and the light on. How could I not avoid staring at her soft face so illuminated only a few yards away from my own window? It was practically an invitation.

  I took in her slim hands and the way she held a pen. There was something about her, something underneath. I kept watching her as she began to write in a notebook. There was something more to her than the sprightly neighbor who introduced herself earlier. There was something dark about her. Something sad.

  I wondered what it’d be like to kiss those lips I was staring at. I wondered if she would kiss me back.

  Maybe I should get to know the neighbors.

  But first, to get out of this house. I lifted open my window and peeked over the edge. It wasn’t far from the ground.

  Perfect.

  The window made it easy for me to jump out. Easy for me to get away from home.

  Easy for me to make my way to the nearest liquor store and to persuade some guy with a few extra dollars to buy me alcohol.

  It was my first day in a new town, about to start a new school the next morning.

  And I had every reason to get drunk.

  3

  ABBY

  “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?”

  Serenity scrunched up her little face at my question as if I had insulted her.

  “Nope,” she replied.

  I gasped. “Why not?”

  My sister rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was not in the mood for my games. “Abby, I’m too old for a bedtime story.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  I picked up the Harry Potter book she was halfway through and dangled it in front of her increasingly irate face. “Not even a little chapter.”

  “Yes.”

  I shrugged, placing the heavy book back down on her shelf. “I remember you used to love it when I read to you.”

  “Yeah, when I was five. I’m twelve now.”

  “Oh, a big grown-up, I see,” I replied mockingly. “Sorry for trying to be a cool big sister.”

  Serenity poked her tongue out at me. I returned the gesture.

  “I can read on my own,” she said sternly.

  She used to love me reading for her. I’d sit on her bed for ages making her nod off to sleep.

  What’s that old stupid saying?

  They grow up so fast.

  Well, she definitely was.

  I raised my hands and chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll leave you alone, Serenity.”

  “Yes please.”

  “Did you take your medicine?” I asked.

  Serenity nodded to the pills on her shelf next to the Harry Potter book. “Yep.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not lying to me?”

  “Nope.”

  I stepped out of her bedroom, pointing at the light switch. “You want it on or off?” I asked her.

  “Off.”

  I flicked off her bedroom lights and slowly closed the door. “Goodnight, Serenity.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  And then, from the darkness of her room, I heard Serenity’s tiny voice call out to me. “I love you, Abby.”

  It was so sincere. So sweet. So soft. My heart practically shattered into a million pieces.

  “I love you too, sis.”

  I shut the door and closed my eyes.

  Serenity and I loved to play-fight, but at the end of the day, we truly loved each other.

  I took in a deep breath and headed down the hallway, back to my room.

  On the way, I passed by Mom’s room. I hadn’t seen her all day, but I knew she was in there. Somewhere.

  It really shouldn’t have been me that was tucking Serenity into bed. It shouldn’t have been me reading bedtime stories to her. It all really should’ve been our mother, but she’d been gone to us for nearly two years now. Sure, she was physically still in the house, but mentally she’d clocked out a long time ago. Even before Dad’s passing.

  Now she spent her days on welfare. Drinking or shooting up drugs or whatever, I didn’t want to know what she got up to in her room.

  I wouldn’t even care if it weren’t for Serenity.

  Everything I did was to protect my sister.

  It was me who had to step up and be a surrogate mother to my sister. If my own Mom wasn’t even interested in raising Serenity, then it would have to be me.

  I walked straight past my Mom’s bedroom and into my own, firmly closing the door as if to lock my mother and stepdad away. As if to close a portal from their world.

  I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. For a long time, I had resolved that the minute when school was over, I was going to get straight out of there. And I would bring Serenity along with me.

  Just us two. Without the mother who didn’t give a damn about us.

  It would just be Serenity and me against the world.

  In my room, I sat down at my desk and got my homework sorted out for school the next day. I shuffled through the papers, making sure I’d done everything I needed to do.

  All good.

  I glanced over at the empty notebook lying on my bookcase. Stupidly, I had made an impulse new year’s resolution back in January to start a diary and I had yet to write a single word. I used to really love writing pen-to-paper, preferring it to typing. I used to always write letters. I loved the feel of the pen, seeing how neat I could make my handwriting. It was like drawing or painting. Physically writing something always made me feel calm, and that’s why I had wanted to start a diary.

  But I hadn’t got round to it.

  I picked up the empty notebook and skimmed through it, looking doubtfully at all the pages full of lines. So much space to fill. Where would I even find the words? In a huff, I threw the thing back onto the bookcase.

  Yep, I don’t think I have the energy to start writing that anytime soon.

  I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

  And then I heard it.

  Something was rustling outside my window.

  Some kind of noise.

  My head turned towards it.

  The sound definitely wasn’t the wind, or even some raccoon or wild animal. It was something else.

  Something was tapping at my window.

  My hands reached down below my desk to the baseball bat I kept for emergencies. My fingers wrapped around the rubber handle as I leaned further back to properly peek outside the glass.

  A hand was there tapping at the window. A human hand.