3. Cassidy
Cassidy
Showtime.
I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and crank up the volume as high as I can. This morning’s performance is brought to you by Heart. No one can belt out the high notes like Ann Wilson, but when I sing Alone in the shower, I sure as shit try to.
A smile stretches across my face as I head to the bathroom.
If Neighbor Man can hear me singing through the wall, then our layouts mirror each other, making his bathroom and bedroom right on the other side of mine.
I take a long, hot shower, really letting the steam warm up my vocal cords.
One song turns into five, and after my concert, I feel satisfied and ready to tackle my day.
That asshole won’t sleep in another day in his life if I have anything to say about it.
Who does he think he is, slamming doors and using up gym equipment with that smug attitude?
“Good morning, Candy.” I pop open the door to her cage. “How did you sleep?”
She hops across her perch and tilts her head.
“I’m going to have a breakthrough today. I’m going to write. I can feel it.” I sit down in my plush yellow chair, and open my laptop. “I’m going to write, and nothing is going to stop me.”
I square my shoulders and wait for the words to come to me.
Five minutes pass and then I reach for my phone. “I need to be inspired. Universe, send me something inspiring.”
I click on the TikTok icon, hoping to come across something that will spark my creativity.
“Hockey.” Swipe. “Hockey.” Swipe. “More hockey.”
I let out a loud groan. Readers are in their hockey romance era right now and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.
Sports are so boring. Men put these athletes up on a pedestal.
Society pays them as if they’ve found the cure for cancer.
And for what? Because they’re athletic? Who cares if Michael Jordan can slam dunk a field goal or whatever it is he does?
A notification pops up on my screen.
BookishBrittney: When is your next release coming out? I’ve read all your books and I’m impatiently waiting for more!
I click on her comment to respond to her video and prop up my phone on my desk before hitting record.
“I know, I know. It has been a while since I’ve published a book, but I can promise you I’m hard at work trying to finish this next one. I’ve been having a bit of writer’s block lately and...”
I stop the video and delete the clips. I don’t want anyone to know how much I’ve been struggling to write. It’ll only fuel the trolls who keep telling me that my career is over because my last book sucked. It’s why I haven’t been posting on social media as much.
Bang!
My shoulders jerk up to my ears with the slam of my neighbor’s door. I whip around and glare at the wall as if laser beams will shoot out of my eyeballs and sear into him when he walks by.
Then I get an idea.
I clear my throat and restart the video.
“My new neighbor is an asshole. Mind you, he just moved in a few days ago, but things have escalated rather quickly. I’m sitting here, minding my own business, writing my next book, and every time he walks in or out of his apartment, he slams the door.
And sure, the doors are heavy. One could argue that maybe he had something in his hands and didn’t catch the door in time.
Fine. But it has happened more than once, and it’s the equivalent of a small-scale earthquake when this man is around.
“Now, I’m a nice neighbor. I don’t want to start trouble.
So, I ignored the slamming, and tried to smile and say hello.
We were sharing an elevator, and I know he saw me, but he stepped inside and completely ignored me as if I didn’t exist. Strike two for Neighbor Man.
But I told myself, self, maybe he’s oblivious and has so much going on inside his own head that he doesn’t notice people around him. Until yesterday.”
I take a dramatic pause before retelling the events from the gym yesterday, explaining to my followers who aren’t familiar with the gym that one does not do bicep curls in the squat rack unless they want to be shunned by the gym community.
“By the end of my workout, I was pissed, and when we got to our doors, something inside me snapped. I decided to offer him a helpful tidbit of neighborly advice about how not to slam his door. Well, Neighbor Man proceeded to tell me that he could hear me singing through the walls and called me a shitty singer—which I am not, by the way. My mother used to call me her little songbird when I was little. So, I know he was just trying to get under my skin. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he slams his door in my face. Again!”
I continue recording and laugh while I tell my followers how I’ve decided to retaliate with early-morning singing. It’s petty and immature, I know, but I am so done with entitled assholes like him thinking they can do whatever they want to the people around them.
After I edit the clips, I click post.
Candy chirps and gives me what I interpret as a discerning look.
“Don’t judge me, girl. You murdered your own brother. I don’t want to hear it.”
An hour later, I still haven’t typed more than ten words, which I end up deleting because they’re the worst ten words in the history of words.
My phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime from Aarya.
“Hey, girl.”
“Oh my god. Your TikTok video is going viral right now.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “Which one?”
“The one you just posted, like, an hour ago. It already has over 50,000 views.”
“The one about Neighbor Man?” I open the app to see what she’s talking about. “Holy shit, you’re right.”
“This is genius marketing. People are going to see that you’re an author and then they’ll want to check out your books.”
“This wasn’t a marketing tactic. I was just pissed when I posted it.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You have to keep posting. People want updates.”
I scroll through the comments and a loud laugh rips from my throat. “They think this is the premise to my next book.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea.”
I let out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, right. And I’d call it, Enemies Minus the Lovers.”
“I’m serious. If you’re stuck on the current book you’re writing, then try something new. Plus, you’ll have lots to write about because it’s all true stuff that happened. It writes itself.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
She’s not wrong.
“Let’s meet up for drinks and we can start outlining the book.”
My eyebrows jump. “You want to plot it out with me?”
“Only because it’s about your hot new neighbor.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not hot. He’s an asshole.”
She shoots me a dubious look.
“Okay, fine. He’s both.”
“How many times has he called you?”
I click ignore and turn my phone face-down on the table. “Third time today.”
Aarya sips her Cosmo. “Aren’t you the least bit curious why your ex is calling you out of the blue?”
“Nope. I have nothing to say to him. I could never speak to him again for the rest of my life and I’d be perfectly okay with that. Actually, you know what?” I pick up my phone again and click on Sheldon’s name before tapping block caller. “There. Done.”
“Good for you.”
“What could he possibly have to say? I’m off having amazing sex with the woman I cheated on you with. How are you doing?” I roll my eyes. “Spare me.”
“I think it’s time you get yourself back out there in the dating world. It’s been well over a year. Why don’t you sign up for or Hinge, or even Bumble?”
I scrunch my nose. “No thanks.”
“Dude, I can literally hear your vagina crying.”
I scoff. “She is well-taken care of, thank you very much.”
“Your vibrator isn’t enough, and you know it.” Aarya sets down her martini glass and levels me with a look. “And it’s not just sex. Just because Sheldon cheated on you doesn’t mean you can’t trust anyone else ever again.”
“I’m not saying all men are lying, cheating, bags of dicks like Sheldon. But I’m just not into online dating.” I gesture to Aarya. “Look at you. Look at all the crazy online dates you’ve been on. I don’t want to go through that. I’d rather meet a guy the old-fashioned natural way.”
“But you don’t go anywhere, so how are you going to meet someone holed up in your apartment all the time?”
“I’m writing. That’s what I need to focus on right now.” I grimace. “Or at least I’m trying to write.”
Her eyes light up. “Speaking of writing, let’s discuss your new book about your hot neighbor.”
I smirk. “I love how you’re suddenly interested in my writing.”
She feigns offense and places her palm on her chest. “Of course I’m interested in your writing.”
“Name one book of mine that you’ve read.”
“The one with the...the...uh, the guy with the thing, and they went on, like a boat or something?”
I tilt my head back as I laugh. “I’ve never written a book about a guy on a boat.”
Aarya’s shoulders droop. “Fine, I’ve never read your books, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad friend. I just hate reading. And romance books are so fake a corny. Real life doesn’t happen like that.”
I heave a sigh and prop my head up in my hand with my elbow on the table. “I know sometimes it feels that way, but true love is real.”
She arches a sleek brow. “One person who’s made for you and only you? No way.”
“Maybe not one person, but a series of people you’re destined to meet along the way.”
“You’re going to meet people whether you’re destined to or not.” She hikes a shoulder. “Plus, I like being single and fucking around. I don’t need someone getting attached to me, and then I have to meet their parents who pressure you to get married and pop out babies.”
“Love is different for everyone. You don’t have to get married and have kids. You could have incredible sex and travel the world together.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t need romance to do that.”
I smile. “You’re going to meet someone one day, and he or she is going to knock you right on your ass. You’ll see.”
She points her index finger at me. “Don’t you wish that monogamous shit on me. Take it back!”
“Nope.”
She flings a breadstick at me. “Take it back, bitch!”
The breadstick hits me in the shoulder and I laugh. “Fine, I take it back.”
But I don’t mean it. Love finds everyone, whether you’re looking for it or not. And one day, my fiercely independent best friend is going to fall in love.
I just hope love is in the cards for me too.