5. Quentin
Chapter five
Quentin
I set the white carton down on my dining table and tried to sort my jumbled thoughts. My new next-door neighbor, the same woman who had been cussing me out just last night had given me a gift. I couldn’t even remember the last time a woman had gotten me a gift, excluding Arlene’s yearly Christmas cookies, of course. It must have been my mother before her mind was so far gone that she could no longer remember my birthday.
I knew it meant little. The woman barely knew me, and she clearly just felt sorry for me, and yet looking at the box made my heart race. The fact that she had such an effect on me, stirring up my nerves, made me nervous. I had to admit she was very attractive. I’d noticed the first time I saw her across the parking lot, but having seen her up close, I found I couldn’t get her out of my mind: striking red hair, sparkling green eyes, full lips, an elegant curve to her jaw. The woman was absolutely stunning, so it was only natural I felt flustered around her even though I usually tried to suppress these kinds of feelings. I knew how repulsive I looked, and I was doing myself no favor if I allowed myself to yearn for a woman, so I usually kept my distance.
The fact that she was living right next door was problematic, but I had to find a way to put a stop to these feelings anyway. Nothing good could come from thinking about my neighbor that way.
I had almost felt relieved that our first proper interaction had been hostile. Filing her away as a rude nuisance would’ve made things easier, but then she showed up with the headphones, and that line of defense had crumbled.
In theory, it was a thoughtful gift. She had no way of knowing that I couldn’t tolerate headphones since the time I was injured. The pressure was just too much on my scar tissue.
There was no point in keeping them. I had no use for them, and having them around made me feel—I wasn’t sure how it made me feel, and that was exactly what scared me.
I considered giving them back to her, but she might take that as an insult, which was the last thing I wanted. I wouldn’t let them collect dust in the corner of my cupboard, either; that would be such a waste. Those were high-quality headphones. She must’ve paid a decent price for them, and she probably wasn’t swimming in money if she was renting at Sunset Apartments.
The most logical solution was to give them away to someone who would put them to good use, and I already had someone in mind.