Neighbors With Benefits

1 - Jazz

1

Jazz

“Do we have enough glasses?” I asked, frantically opening cabinets in my new kitchen. “We’re good on wine glasses, but if a lot of people drink beer…”

Cat, my best friend, opened the drawer next to the sink. “I brought two dozen beer koozies. They can drink beer out of the can.”

“You don’t think that’s too casual?”

Cat threw a koozie at me like a Frisbee. “You do this every time. You’re great at planning and preparation, but then spend the final hour before guests arrive freaking out about every little detail.”

“But what if—”

Cat gripped me by the shoulders. “If something goes wrong, it will be fine. This is a housewarming party. The stakes are as low as they could be. Besides, you know everyone coming. They don’t care about the details.”

I took a look around the room. The kitchen was a big space that opened directly into the living room, and my huge dining room table—currently covered with charcuterie and other appetizers —separated the two spaces. Beyond the living room was my massive screened-in porch; the weather outside was so nice that I had the door open, allowing even more people to mingle out there without feeling excluded.

All in all, I loved my new house. It had been a week since I’d moved in, and I was still constantly enamored with every part of it. It was smaller than what most of my friends had, but I didn’t need a lot of space. Two bedrooms were plenty for me.

The important thing was what this house represented: independence. I didn’t have any roommates or landlords to answer to. Just a mortgage.

For the first time in my twenty-seven years of life, I felt like a real adult.

“But what if nobody comes?” I asked.

Cat grabbed another koozie, but before she could throw it at me, the doorbell rang. “Problem solved!” she said, grabbing my arm and practically shoving me toward the front door. “Time to play host!”

When I opened the door, I was greeted by five of my coworkers: Angie, Samantha, Liz, and Gregor with his boyfriend Parker.

“Oh this place is amazing ,” Gregor said while admiring the house.

“Point us in the direction of the bar,” Parker said while kissing me on both cheeks. “We’ll make the drinks.”

“It’s your day off! I don’t want you to have to work,” I replied.

Gregor wagged a finger in my face. “It’s not work, sweetie. Drink making is an art , and I am Michelangelo.”

Parker gave his boyfriend a pout. “Why do you get to be the Ninja Turtle?”

“You can be one too, you know.”

“But Michelangelo is the best.”

“Shut up and help me slice limes.”

More people arrived soon after that, and I began to relax as the party got underway. Cat commandeered my speaker system and played some music while I mingled with the guests. Two of my friends from college drove an hour to be here, so it was nice to catch up with them.

Cat was right. Why had I ever worried? I was a real adult, hosting a real adult party.

An hour or so after the party began, Cat tugged on my sleeve and pointed across the house. “How do you know that guy?”

It wasn’t hard to see who she meant. There was a man chatting with Liz in the living room who I had never seen before. With his dress slacks and button-down shirt, he looked like he had just come from an office job.

“I don’t know him,” I replied.

“Maybe he’s a housewarming party crasher,” Cat suggested. “Like a wedding crasher, but for this kind of party.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I told Cat. “I put invites in all the mailboxes on my block, so he’s probably just one of my neighbors.”

Cat finished her wine and put her glass on the counter. “Say no more. I’ll go size him up for you. Just like when I was your wingwoman in college.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

“You literally told me this morning that you’ve been on a dry spell.”

I looked around our immediate area, then lowered my voice. “Not so loud! I don’t want everyone here to know about my sex life.”

“Or lack thereof,” Cat muttered.

“Forget about him. You don’t shit where you eat.”

Cat’s eyes widened. “What kind of wingwoman do you think I am? None of my plans involve shitting.”

“It’s a metaphor,” I said with a laugh. “It means that if he is my neighbor, he’s too close to home. If we get involved and it goes poorly, then it will be awkward forever . Don’t you remember Dave Kirkpatrick from our junior year apartment?”

“Jesus, Jazz,” Cat muttered. “I’m not going to invite him to fuck you after the party the way you did with junior year Dave. I’m just going to talk to him about how amazing you are.”

Before I could say anything else, she made a bee-line through the party and said hi to the unknown guest.

I didn’t want to see how that interaction turned out, so I left the kitchen and walked to the bathroom. The door was closed and the fan was on inside, but there was no light underneath the door. I knocked politely, waited a full second, and then opened the unlocked door.

I froze. A man was washing his hands at the sink.

“I… I…” I stammered.

He flashed an easy smile. “Sorry. I’m still on my first happy birthday.”

I didn’t know what that meant, and was already halfway dead with embarrassment, so I retreated and closed the door behind me. Then I leaned against the wall and groaned.

I didn’t recognize him. Which probably meant he was another one of my neighbors. Perfect.

Before I could run to another room, the bathroom door opened and the guy stepped out into the hallway. He was wearing jeans, brown leather shoes, and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was tall, at least six-foot-three, and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.

He had a sharp, attractive face and piercing blue eyes. Of course I walked in on maybe the hottest guy at the party. Even more perfect. Way to go, Jazz.

“I knocked!” I blurted out a little too defensively. “And you should lock the door.”

The man gave me that same easy smile. “I didn’t hear the knock, probably because of the music thumping in the living room. Also, the lock doesn’t work.”

I blinked. “It doesn’t?”

He twisted the lock on the doorknob, then gave it a test from the other side. “Yup. The lock doesn’t work.”

“Oh. I, uh, just moved into this house.”

“Ah, so you’re Jazz! I got your invite. I’m going to give you a do-over on our meeting. I’m Sebastian, but everyone calls me Bash.” He extended his hand. “Don’t worry. I just washed up. But you already know that!”

I shook his hand. “What did you mean about your first happy birthday?”

“You’re supposed to wash your hands long enough to sing Happy Birthday twice,” he explained, running a hand through his wavy blond hair. It was messy, but in an intentional sort of way. “I live next door in the green house.”

“Oh!” I said, seizing on the information. “You’re the house with all the plants! I love the vibe.”

Bash grimaced. “Thanks, but my roommate is the plant guy. I’ve got whatever the opposite of a green thumb is. All of my plants die.”

Damn. So much for having a hobby in common.

While I tried to think of another topic, Cat came walking over with the mystery man from earlier. “Jazz! This is Aiden. He lives next door, and he wants to meet you.”

Aiden shook my hand. He was about the same height as Bash, but with dark hair that was parted along the side. “I live in the green house, but I really love your greenhouse.”

I frowned at him. “My house is blue.”

Bash pointed past me. “I think he means the greenhouse in the backyard.”

“Oh! Right.” I playfully smacked my forehead. “Sorry. I’ve only lived here a week, so nothing really feels like mine yet. I’m excited to get the greenhouse up and running.” I looked at Aiden and Bash. “Oh, you both live next door?”

“In the house that is painted green, yes,” Aiden said with a smirk.

Bash clapped him on the back. “Aiden and I live together.”

“Ohhhh,” Cat said slowly. “That’s great! Our best friends, Gregor and Parker, are the guys making drinks in the kitchen.”

Bash started laughing. Aiden’s eyes widened, and he said, “No, we’re not a gay couple. There’s a third guy who lives with us.”

“That makes it even gayer, Aiden,” Bash said. “We could be a gay throuple.” He winked at me to let me know he was joking.

“We are three very heterosexual men living together,” Aiden clarified. “We’re best friends.”

Giggling, I said, “No judgment! Glad to meet you. This is a great neighborhood.”

“Best neighborhood in Philly!” Aiden said, glancing at his watch. “I’m glad we got a chance to say hi, because we have to go.”

“Aw, you can’t stay longer?” Cat asked.

“We’ve actually been here for a little while,” Bash explained. “Took us a while to figure out who had moved in and who was just a guest here.”

“I baked a pie as a housewarming gift,” Aiden said, nodding toward the kitchen. “And I left my phone number in case you need anything. Paper towels, a cup of sugar… seriously, don’t hesitate to hit us up.”

“Or just come over and knock,” Bash added. “One of us is usually home.”

“I appreciate it! Thanks for coming by!”

When they were gone, Cat fanned her face with her palm. “I don’t know which of them is hotter: dark-and-handsome or blond-and-beautiful. What do you think?”

“I think I have to pee!” I said, hurrying into the bathroom.

The party fizzled out soon after that. Gregor and Parker stuck around to help me clean up a lot of the mess, which didn’t take long. After they left it was just me and Cat polishing off the wine.

“This pie is legit,” Cat said in the kitchen. “It looks like it came from a bakery. The bougie kind that charges fifty bucks for a pie.”

I saw what she meant. The crust was braided dough, baked golden brown. “He probably bought it from that place down the street.”

“He said he baked it himself,” Cat pointed out.

“People say a lot of things.” There was a Post-It note on top of the side of the pie tin with his name, Aiden Rush, and his phone number. “Help yourself to the pie.”

“You don’t want some?” Cat asked while cutting a slice. “It’s only fair that you taste his pie before he tastes yours .”

“No,” I insisted playfully. “That’s exactly what we don’t want. They live right next door.”

“But they’re both so hot ,” Cat whined.

“You’re welcome to date them,” I replied.

“I’m only dating women right now,” Cat replied.

I frowned at her. “Last time I checked, bisexual meant you get to date men and women.”

Cat shook her head. “I just got out of a relationship with a penis-haver, which means it’s time to date a vagina-haver. I like to switch every time. Variety is the spice of life.” She took a bite of pie and moaned. “Speaking of spice, this pie is incredible. It’s chocolate mixed with some sort of berry.”

I grabbed the fork out of her hand and stole a bite. “Wow, that is good.”

“Tall, dark, handsome, and he knows his way around a kitchen? Forget dating this guy, you should skip straight to marriage.”

“He’s my neighbor!” I insisted.

Cat groaned unhappily. “You’re no fun.”

We drank the rest of the wine, and Cat took an Uber home. Then I was all alone. In my own house. A house that I owned . Well, technically the bank owned most of it. But that was a detail I didn’t really care about.

It felt like I had moved from one stage of my life to another.

I filled the dishwasher with plates and glasses, then realized I didn’t have any dishwasher detergent. One of the many things I needed to buy, since my old apartment didn’t even have a dishwasher. There was a convenience store two miles up the road, but I didn’t want to drive after drinking.

I glanced at the pie, and the Stick-It note next to it. Normally I wouldn’t want to bother someone, but if they were right next door…

Before I could talk myself out of it, I texted the number.

Me : Hi! I hope I’m not replying too quickly, but I’ve considered your offer and want to take you up on it. Are you home right now?

I tidied up a bit more, and then a response text came in.

I read the text.

And my jaw practically hit the floor.