Cassidy
“I think our new neighbour is moving in.”
I step onto the balcony and into the mid morning sun, expecting to hear the sounds of a busy inner suburban street.
Instead, the steady beeps of a truck reversing ring in my ear, flooding the apartment.
Moving towards the handrail, I lean over it, hoping to catch sight of the person, or people, we are bound to cross paths with countless times from here on out.
My roommate, Amira, joins me on the balcony, but I shove her back inside.
“Don’t make it obvious,” I hiss. “Go make coffee or something so it looks like we’re just two women enjoying the midday sun.”
She laughs at me but walks over to the kitchen and flicks the machine on. While she grabs our favourite mugs from the drying rack next to the sink, I lean over the rusted railing a fraction to see if I can spot the new resident of apartment thirty-two.
The unit across from ours has been empty for more than a few months.
We suspect the owners were trying to charge too much rent, because despite hundreds of people walking through during the openings, no one came to stay.
Until now. The big “FOR RENT” sign in front of the block was taken down last weekend.
Amira comes out with two mugs of her perfectly brewed coffee. I grab one from her as she leans on the railing with me.
“See anyone yet?”
Before I can answer her, the driver’s side to the rental truck opens and a man with dark scruffy hair steps out.
It’s not until he is standing on the footpath, I realise how ridiculously tall he is, and I wonder if he would have to stoop to avoid the low ceilings in the communal hallways of our building.
He calls out to someone in the car in front, and soon a whole family is on the sidewalk.
Two young kids start to play on the retaining wall, while five adults gather and, I assume, form a plan.
“Mum, Dad, grown-up kids, grandkids?” I look to Amira.
“Or is one of them an in-law? They all have really dark hair except that guy.”
She raises a finger off her bright green mug to point. We’re too far away to see them clearly, but I can tell she is referring to the man wrangling the children off the wall. His dark auburn hair stands out in the sea of deep browns.
I laugh. “I wonder who’s moving in.”
Together, we watch as the tall one opens the tailgate of the vehicle and starts lowering the ramp.
His shirt is tight against his broad shoulders and muscular back.
A sleeve of tattoos spirals around his right arm.
His hair has a slight wave to it, sitting messily on the nape of his neck.
A glimpse of the side of his face reveals a short beard, long enough to be on purpose, but trimmed and tidy in a way the rest of his hair isn’t.
I can’t explain why, but there is something familiar about him.
“I feel like a creep,” I whisper, turning to walk back inside.
Amira follows. “We can find out who has moved in later, but if it’s the guy with the tatt, I call dibs.”
“What happened to you swearing off men?”
She cocks her eyebrow at me. “Like you weren’t checking him out, too.”
She’s right, but it’s more than his muscular frame that has me intrigued.
Maybe it’s something about the dragon tail wrapping around his forearm.
Or how the thought of him having to stoop in the hallway feels oddly nostalgic, bringing back memories of hiding in the storage room during my teenage job as a supermarket cashier.
Whatever it is, I’m determined to work out why I can’t shake the nervous tingles spreading from my fingers.