Andre
Tonight did not go well. I’m not an asshole—I do realize that. Faith was humiliated and she left angry and sickened, with her older brother hot on her heels.
This was not a good night for her. For anyone. I do know that.
But Christ… as I leave the bar thirty minutes later, hands tucked in my pockets, I feel lighter than I have in years.
Four years, to be exact.
“Go get her,” someone calls from The Buccaneer’s doorway, but I flip them off over my shoulder and keep walking.
Go get her.
I could, couldn’t I? Thirty minutes is enough of a head start—enough time for her to avoid me if she likes. But if Faith decides not to hide herself away, if she’s waiting when I get home… I could go get her.
After four years of wanting her; watching her too closely, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. Four years of self loathing, forcibly keeping myself in line so I didn’t freak out my much younger neighbor. Four years of early morning runs, burning off the worst of this constant need.
Turns out Faith wants me too. Has wanted me all this time.
Funny old world, isn’t it?
The salt breeze lifts my hair and slips under my t-shirt. Cool, invisible fingers stroke over my chest.
Shecould touch me there soon. Faith could touch me everywhere, then lay back on my bed and let me undress her. Let me touch her too—if I allow this to happen.
The waves tumble against the beach, sucking up pebbles from the sand as they rush back out to sea. A crab scuttles near the path, up way past his bedtime.
I’m in love with my neighbor.
That was my favorite line from Faith’s letter, and I replay it over and over in my head as I walk home. Try to conjure it in her voice. The rest of the letter talked about her crush, her infatuation, but that line used the l-word. Made it sound more serious. More final.
Fuck knows my feelings for her are a done deal.
They have been since the first time I laid eyes on her. The first time I wandered up to knock on the new neighbors’ open door, hoping to introduce myself, and saw Faith there in the tiled hallway, surrounded by boxes.
She wore shorts and a white vest top, her red hair braided over one shoulder, and as she dropped a heavy box of books on the tiles, she gusted out a long sigh. Smacked her palms together, like she was brushing away dust. Then Faith stood up and wiped her arm across her forehead, her cheeks pink with exertion, and by the time she spotted me, I was already a goner.
Can’t make sense of it. She was gorgeous, sure, but she might have had the world’s worst personality.
But no—even then, a part of me knew. I stood in that entryway and I thought: I’m looking at my future wife.
Then Stephen clattered down the stairs and spotted me, and we did the awkward introductions dance, and it slowly dawned on me that Faith was young. A grown adult, but still—too young for me.
Just like that, the bubble popped.
And tonight, it’s that thought that brings me drifting back to earth, because nothing has changed on that front. We can’t magic away an age gap. So does Faith’s confession change anything, really?
I’m eleven years older than her. She’s just starting out in life, and I’m—jaded. Settled in my ways. Outwardly, I may look young enough, but it feels like I discover new aches and pains every damn day.
Could I pursue this? Would it ever be fair?
Or would I hold her back?
What if I waited a while longer? Though the thought tastes sour, it’s more hopeful than the others. After all, what’s a few more years? I already know I’m in this for life. Even if Faith moves on, I’ll crave her for the rest of my days.
So maybe I’ll give her space for a while longer. Let her run wild in her youth, then tell her I’m here once she’s ready.
Yeah. It’s the right thing to do.
* * *
Our terraced houses stand side by side on the outskirts of town, wedged in the middle of the row. Faith and Stephen’s house is painted lavender; mine is pale green. Stone steps lead up to our front doors, and window boxes overflow with leaves and flowers on our sills.
My house is dark. Their windows are lit up, but I don’t need to crane my neck for a glimpse of Faith in her bedroom.
My gut swoops. She’s out here, waiting.
Sitting on the stone steps out front, Faith cuddles her knees. A mug sits beside her hip, steam curling into the night air, and she’s still pale beneath her freckles. Her bleak gaze watches me approach.
“The stars are bright tonight,” I say, by way of greeting.
Faith grunts. I lower myself to sit beside her, careful of the mug, and prop my arms on my knees. We both watch the distant ocean, dark and glittering beneath the moon.
The tide’s all the way out, and the expanse of sand is ghostly, pockmarked with seaweed. The air smells like Faith’s hot chocolate, mingled with brine.
“He shouldn’t have read it,” I say quietly. “But your brother didn’t mean to hurt you like that. If Stephen had realized—”
“I know.” She traces her own freckles, joining the dots on her bare thigh. I swallow hard and force my eyes away.
Those shorts. Those bottle green shorts.
They were sent to test me.
“No one will remember,” I say, because Faith is slumped over beside me, her beautiful face etched with misery, and I hate it. Hate seeing her this sad. “A week from now, the whole town will have moved on to something else. Some other gossip.”
“I don’t care about that.” She picks up her mug then puts it down again. The china clinks against stone, then she turns to me, eyes searching. “I care what you think, Andre.”
Go get her.
Go get her.
My restraint has never been tested like this. Christ. A morning run won’t be enough to burn this off—I’ll need an ultra marathon. Miles and miles and more punishing miles, with sweat pouring off my skin and each gasping breath burning my lungs.
Maybe then my tensed muscles will relax. Maybe then this pounding hunger will fade away.
But for now, I clear my throat and rub one palm along my jaw, stubble crackling. “What I think?”
Faith nods. But how can I reassure her without giving false hope?
I’m hers, always. Ready and waiting—after a few more years have passed. That doesn’t help her now, and it’s not fair to put pressure on her like that. Pressure to come back to me.
Faith waits, lips firming. When the words don’t come, she scowls and stands.
“Sorry,” she says, bending to scoop up the mug, and she won’t look at me. Her dismissal slices my gut. “This is super awkward, and you didn’t ask for any of this. I won’t bother you with it again, Andre. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not a bother.” I reach for her arm, a thousand belated words on the tip of my tongue, but she moves too quickly and she’s out of reach.
Faith stomps up the steps to their front door. She bumps it open with her hip, and I’m on my feet, dizzy with panic.
There was a moment back there—an opening. I should have said something. Anything. Now she thinks I don’t care, and that’s worse than pressuring her. Fuck.
“Wait, Faith—”
The door closes with a thud, hard enough to rattle the knocker. I lunge up and try the handle, but it’s locked.
“Faith!” I thump on the wood, the door trembling in its frame, but she doesn’t come back. Each unanswered knock leaves me more hollow, jarring my bones.
After a minute, I give up and retreat down the steps, my face numb. The waves sigh against the beach behind me.
* * *
“You’ll look out for her, right?”
We’re on the sidewalk at dawn as Stephen slings his bags into the backseat of his car. He’s driven the same rusty red beater for the whole time I’ve known him. He’s in dark jeans, battered sneakers, a gray t-shirt and a utility jacket. It’s too hot for all those layers, but what he can’t carry, he wears.
Faith’s brother still looks sick with guilt, and he keeps stealing glances up at her bedroom window. The curtains are closed.
“If she’ll let me,” I say.
Stephen sighs and nods, clapping our hands together in a brief handshake before rounding his car.
Normally Faith sees her brother off too. She likes to fuss over him, making him coffee and forcing toast into his hands, gnawing on her lip with worry the whole time. So damn cute.
It must be hard for her. Stephen is her only family, and his job is dangerous. They can go for weeks, sometimes months, out of contact, but her brother has the distraction of his work. All Faith has to make her feel better is…
Well. Me.
“I knew she…” Stephen trails off and waves at me, mouth twisted in distaste.
“Thanks for that.”
“No, sorry, I just mean…” He searches for the words. Meanwhile I’m still in the same clothes from last night, without a wink of sleep to my name. It’s too early for this. “I didn’t realize how bad she had it, that’s all. That letter—”
“Forget the letter.” It comes out harsher than I intended, and Stephen jolts back in surprise, but I don’t take it back. The last thing Faith needs is the rest of us lingering on the subject. “She didn’t write it for us. Forget you ever read it.”
Stephen raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re gonna do?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t believe me, I can tell. The knowing look Stephen gives me as he slides into the driver’s seat makes me want to tear his wing mirror off and fling it at the beach.
I don’t, obviously. It’s not really him that I’m mad at, and besides—if I didn’t have rock solid impulse control, Faith and I would have sorted things between us long ago.
That’s supposed to be a reassuring thought. So why does it make me want to crash to my knees?
“She’s got this 10k coming up.” Stephen leans out of the window, sunglasses perched on his nose, watching me steadily above the frames. “She was going to ask you to train with her, but she won’t bring it up now.”
I nod, rubbing at the ache in my chest. “I’ll offer.”
If she lets me. If I can even get close.
“And she took on a bunch of extra commissions last week, so if she seems tired or forgets to eat—”
“I’ve got it,” I interrupt, because this is Faith 101. “I’ll take care of her, man. You can always trust that.”
Stephen stares at me for another beat, his eyes a vivid blue. The exact same shade as his sister’s. Then he nods and ducks back inside the car, turning over the engine.
“Sayonara,” Stephen calls as his car sputters into the street. “If you break my sister’s heart, you’re a dead man. See you in three months.”
I wave him off, unable to smile or even roll my eyes at his threat.
If I break Faith’s heart, I’ll welcome whatever punishment he can dole out.