Chapter 6
D espite their handful of interactions, Lainey hadn’t actually given much thought to her neighbor. He seemed rather bland, an everyman. She was slightly amused by his overtly conservative buttoned down demeanor and she was thankful he was quiet and kept to himself. Otherwise, he wasn’t much on her radar.
Maybe because lately the only thing on her radar was sugar and all the various ways to try and turn it into money, pretty, pretty money.
“Who lives in the other half of the house?” Ian asked as he sat at Lainey’s table and watched her work. His head rested on his hand, face tilted and relaxed.
“Some guy. Seems nice.”
“Nice, huh? Is that Lainey speak for a crush?”
“A crush? What am I, twelve?” she asked.
“To me, forever and ever,” he said.
She frowned, realizing it was probably true. “Nah, he’s not like that.”
“Is he old?” Ian asked.
“No, he’s about my age, maybe your age. And he’s okay looking, kind of cute, actually. But he’s…he’s so there . I guess maybe I’m trying to say we lack passionate chemistry.”
“Ugh,” Ian grimaced. “Please don’t ever say passionate chemistry again. It’s like when your grandma says it.”
“Thanks for that,” Lainey replied, squinching her nose.
“You know what I mean. It’s just…ew. You’re so Lainey. Why are you doing that thing with your face?”
“Because the top of my nose itches insanely and my hands are covered in fifty pounds of chocolate,” she said.
“Here, let me.” He eased over and used a finger to lightly scratch the top of her nose. “Better?”
“Almost,” she said, squinching again. He itched a few more times, angling closer to get a better hold on her.
“Now?” he asked. The contact had brought him in sharp relief with her body. Like last time, they were chest-to-chest, full contact.
“Yes, that’s, um, that’s good. Thank you.”
He blinked down at her, smiling. “When did you turn into such a knockout, Lainey girl?”
“Um, never?” she said, resisting the urge to use one of her chocolate mitts to smooth her never-behaved hair. “I’m a chocolate-covered shame monster of no makeup and unwashed hair.”
“You look pretty good to me,” Ian said and Lainey’s heart began to thrum. Was he hitting on her or did it only seem like it?
“Oh, that’s, um, thanks? So, how did your date go?”
“What date?” he asked.
“The one you had the other night after you left here,” she said.
He took a step back and resumed his seat at the table. “Oh, that. That was like three dates ago.”
“Same girl?” she asked, hand tensing so the piece of chocolate she was shaping squished between her fingers. Impatiently, she shook them out and picked up another piece of chocolate.
“Occasionally,” he said.
He sounded coy, but why? Did he want her to be jealous? Heartsick? Distraught? She was all those things and then some. It was the bane of her existence to believe he would one day find someone and get serious, maybe even marry that other someone. And then what would become of Lainey? No woman in her right mind would want her boyfriend/husband to visit his best friend’s little sister, no matter how much of a mess Lainey might be.
The moment stretched. Did his glance fall to her lips, or was that more imagination on her part?
His phone beeped and they both jumped. “Whoops, gotta go,” he said, taking a step back.
“Another girl?”
“Nah, another fire. Structure, all hands on deck. Check you later, squirt.” With one of those winks that was becoming trademark, he was gone. And, as also was their custom, Lainey remained staring after him, longing and confused.
When she heard her neighbor arrive home a short while later, it seemed only natural to use him as a sounding board. Who else did she have, after all? She poked her head outside his door, trying not to startle him this time.
“What would it mean if you scratched a woman’s nose?”
No such luck on the no-scaring front. “Bah!” he exclaimed and jumped about a foot as he whirled to face her. “What?” He pressed his hand to his heart. Lainey tried to tamp down her amusement, but it was hard. He was pretty fun to scare, especially because he didn’t seem like the type to startle easily.
“Why would you scratch a woman’s nose?”
“What? I didn’t. Who said I did? Did someone say I did that? They’re lying.”
“Whoa, easy there, fella. Do you have some kind of secret nose fetish? I wasn’t accusing you, I was asking you a generalized question.”
“A generalized question about lady nose scratching?” he clarified.
“I said it,” she replied, resolute.
“I don’t know. Why can’t she scratch her own nose?”
“Impaired chocolate fingers.”
“Impaired chocolate fingers? Are you on crack?” He squinted, probably trying to see if her pupils were blown.
“Excuse me, but that type of psychosis would not be indicative of crack. It would far more explainably be PCP or Magic Mushrooms.”
“Apparently you’d know, but why does it matter?”
“It matters to the psychiatric community that’s been lobbying to make psychotropic drugs a treatment for PTSD.”
“Are they the people with impaired chocolate fingers?” he asked.
“Obviously that was me,” she said, exasperated. “You’re not easy to talk to, do you know that?”
He put a hand to his head, as if in sudden pain. “Can I go now?”
“I guess so, but with the full knowledge you’ve been no help whatsoever. Whatsoever .” She jabbed an accusing finger at him.
“I’m going to back away slowly,” he said and did exactly that until he was safely tucked inside his half the building.
Lainey went inside her own house and finished cleaning up the project she’d been working on. On the other side of the wall she heard her neighbor moving about, preparing his dinner. Hamburger again. It was oddly comforting to listen to his routine. Listening to his routine had become part of her routine, something she’d had much too little of in her life. Her family had moved too often to settle into any sort of acceptable patterns. Every time her father got what she and her brother called his “Pa Ingalls Look” they knew they would soon pack up and follow his latest venture wherever it might take them.
For a while they’d stayed in the same basic area, her mother’s influence, no doubt. It had allowed them to finish high school in one place. Her brother, Murphy, had the rebellious sort of standoffishness that made him inexplicably popular. It was as if the harder he tried not to have anything to do with anyone, the more people followed him around, dying for his attention. Lainey, on the other hand, had been dying for someone, anyone to notice her and be friends. And though she didn’t think she had ever been outwardly needy, it was as if people could sense the desperation on her and avoided her because of it.
While she was working, she’d had friends. But none of them had remained after she quit her job. And now she was isolated, with only Ian and her clean-cut neighbor for companionship, such as it was.
Her gaze strayed to their shared wall, wondering about him. Did he have family, friends, a girlfriend? If so, they never came to his house. No one came to his house. Was it possible he was as alone in the world as she was, and possibly as lonely?
Her heart lub-dubbed with a sympathetic little quiver and she purposed to reach out to him more, even though in her mind she’d already gone over and above. She had initiated several conversations with him, had left him a meal, and given him the last of her signature hand-made lollipops, one that sold for two dollars each at the farmer’s market, thank you very much. Really, when she thought about it, the ball was now in his court for neighborly gestures.
Don’t let me down, shared wall guy; I’m counting on you. She gave the wall a light pat, wondering if he could sense it, and returned to cleaning her mess.