14. 14
14
“ O kay, you’re going to use this spoon to measure this and put it into the bowl two times,” I tell her. I’m amazed when she just listens and goes right in to do the first one. “Can I level out the top for you?”
“No, this is okay,” Dahlia tells me.
Then she plops a largely overflowing tablespoon of cinnamon into the small mixing bowl, and leaves a dusty little trail of it on the counter. I guess if we’re going to ignore the rules here, this is the part where it does the least harm.
She goes in for the second spoonful, and it goes more or less the same. Except when it comes to putting it in the bowl, she flings it in.
“Lean back or you’re going to inhale–”
She starts coughing before I can warn her. That was a mom fail.
It’s even more of a fail when she coughs right into the bowl and more of it is blown into the air. I grab her under her arms and scoop her up and away from the cloud of it.
“I like sim.”
She starts coughing again, making her statement that much more hilarious.
“Cinnamon,” I correct.
“I can call it sim,” she insists.
I laugh at her matter-of-fact tone. Cinnamon is a hard word to nail down.
“Alright, close enough then. Do you still want to help?”
“Is it the cookie part yet?” she asks.
“So close, come here.”
I wave away what may be left of the cinnamon cloud, and put her back on her stool.
I measure out the sugar, and I don’t level that either. What’s the point in starting now?
Her eyes light up, and she claps excitedly when I grab the bowl of the dough we mixed no more than five minutes ago.
“Finally,” she whispers.
We spend the next chunk of the afternoon rolling our dough into little balls, or not-so-little. Her doing. We coat them in sugar, and lay them out on our pan. She’s not thrilled that they have to sit in the fridge for an hour, but I do my best convincing her that it’s worth it.
Thankfully it only takes a few minutes of impatient questioning before her attention moves to the dolls she left laying on the living room floor earlier. That’s the last of the help I receive from her.
Hours later, when I’m so sick of looking at cookies that I could collapse, Autumn walks through my front door.
“It smells so good in here!” she exclaims.
I point to the newest batch that’s sitting on a cooling rack.
“These ones are still warm.”
She doesn’t hesitate, picking one up and breaking it into two. Steam rises from the thick center, and suddenly I’m not sick of them anymore. My mouth is watering.
Dahlia comes up to hug her and swears she should have another one because she shouldn’t be the only one without a cookie at this moment. I give in, handing her one of the smaller ones. She notices and makes a little face, but mercifully says nothing.
“Usually I’m the late one. You were supposed to help us with these,” I chide.
She pouts.
“I know, I let Miles distract me for too long with some video game. Completely lost track of time, I’m sorry!” she says with her mouth full. A couple crumb fly out onto the ground, but I just smile to myself about it. We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do anyway.
I step forward to hug her as soon as my daughter lets go.
“That’s okay, I got to wrangle this little one into baking with me. Did we have fun, princess?”
Dahlia looks between the two of us and shrugs.
“Eh,” she answers.
I laugh out loud, but Autumn tries to stifle her own amusement for my sake.
“You prefer cooking toy food in a toy kitchen?” Autumn asks.
“Yes! It’s so easy.”
I mean, that’s completely true. You can’t mess anything up.
She pulls Autumn by the hand to show her exactly how easy it is, and my friend is the epitome of patience as she listens and plays along. She doesn’t get offended when she starts to do exactly what my daughter tells her to do, and then Dahlia changes her mind, expecting Autumn to know that without it being said. She pretends to eat everything Dahlia hands her, with an enthusiasm I’m hardly ever able to fake.
She’s going to be the best mom.
Autumn hangs out until it’s time for me to take Dahlia to her dad’s house. The time is filled with a comfortable, quiet coexistence between the three of us. We go over the last few details of Vic’s baby shower, which is coming up way too soon for my liking. Time is flying by so fast.
I enjoy having company. I soak it up while I can, because it’s too often just me and my girl sitting at home most of the time. There’s nothing wrong with that, but a little change of pace is always good. Seeing my best friend is always good.
When the time comes, and she’s eaten five more of my cookies, I walk her down to her car. I’m a little overprotective of Autumn in her current state, so I treat her like Dahlia and make her hold onto me while going down the stairs. She laughs like I’m ridiculous, but doesn’t argue.
“What was Vic up to today? I know she was busy, but she didn’t say with what.”
“I actually don’t know, she didn’t tell me either.”
“Should we be suspicious?” I ask with a playful raise of my brows.
“Oh, definitely,” she jokes. “The one time we don’t know what she’s doing must mean she’s replaced us with better friends.”
I scoff.
“Impossible.”
“Extremely.” Her phone lights up in her hand and she smiles when she looks down at it. “Oh, hold on. It’s Miles.”
She moves to lean back against her car, as she answers the phone. I eavesdrop a little, only because I can’t go back inside yet. Not until she’s in her car and driving away.
“Do I have your what?... Oh, where’d you put it?... Let me check.”
The smile she points in my direction is her attempt at apologizing that she’s keeping me waiting out here. I don’t mind, it’s a nice night. Not as cold as it could be for February.
I watch as she opens her trunk and starts looking for something. As she’s occupied with it, I spot an all too familiar car pulling into its usual spot, just a few down from us.
I gasp in excitement at the timing. I want Autumn to see her, because who doesn’t want to point out their crush to their best friend? I may have neglected to mention our kiss the other night, since I’m not even sure how I feel about it. I don’t think I could come up with the right words.
It’s not like I can have a straightforward conversation with the woman to figure it out. I don’t get the feeling that she’s attracted me or anything. But it had a different energy than any random kiss I’ve had before. Not that there have been so many, but taking Bailey for instance. That was fun and innocent, and I didn’t think about it much afterwards.
This was intense in a way that refuses to let me stop thinking about it. I didn’t care what Bailey thought about me, but I’m dying to know what this woman thinks. Even though it can’t be anything good, I want details. I need details. It’s driving me a bit nuts.
And considering how important it is that I keep my sanity, I can’t let that happen again.
I close the distance between Autumn and I with two steps, and pull on her sleeve to get her attention. She mumbles at me to hold on while she opens a plastic bag, and I pull again.
“What?” she asks, moving the phone away from her face.
I point in the general direction of that other car, but my neighbor’s back is already to us as she goes up the stairs. She moves so freaking fast. I sigh. Her face is so nice to look at, I wanted Autumn to know that much. Not that the rest of her isn’t, because her body is sculpted perfection. I’ve never seen her like this, with this kind of view.
Why? Why is she the image of my dream girl when she’s so mean?
It’s not fair.
“Is that your neighbor? The loud one?”
I nod.
“She has great hair,” she says. “Sorry, it feels like I’m not supposed to say anything nice, but that’s the first thing that came to mind.”
“It is great,” I admit. I can’t fault her for mentioning the obvious, not when I’ve thought the same thing so many times.
“What’s that smell?”
I jump what feels like a few feet into the air at the sudden sound of that voice. She’s sitting across from me at the little table, and I didn’t even realize she’d shown up at all.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
I saw her go inside earlier, and her car was still here when I got back from dropping off my daughter. Maybe I somehow missed the sound of her leaving again, but I usually don’t.
I’m usually listening.
“Nowhere that’s your business,” she says.
“You really are a ghost,” I whisper, more to myself.
“Still with that?”
“Snickerdoodles.”
“What?”
“The smell,” I answer. “I made snickerdoodles.”
“What brand?”
“ Brand ? No, I made them. Like, from scratch.”
She hums like that evokes some real thinking on her end.
“Is your daughter home?” she asks.
“No?”
“You should get me one.”
“What does—nevermind.” I shake my head, confused. “Why would I do that?”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t spend hours baking those just to hand them off to the enemy.”
I watch her mouth pull up at the corners.
“‘ The enemy.’ That has a nice sound to it.”
“I bet it does,” I say.
“I could play nice for a night if you gave me a cookie.”
Her smirk is absolutely evil, and wicked, and all of the dark things in the world. Why does that entice me so much?
I give her one of my own in return.
“Nope. I’m good.”
I swear there’s a glint in her eye, she sits up and leans towards me over the table, until I’m forced to tilt my head up to look at her.
“Fine.”
I don’t understand what she’s doing, or why she doesn’t say more. It gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach. Like the butterflies, but worse. More aggressive.
“What is your deal?” I ask.
Her brows shoot upwards.
“My deal?”
“Yeah. I can’t wrap my head around you. You torture me just to pass the time, and then the other night happened. Completely out of the blue. It’s obviously odd.”
“You think I’m torturing you and yet you kissed me back. That seems just as odd,” she points out.
“I don’t think you are, I know you are. You can’t just waterboard someone and tell them they only think they’re in pain.”
“That’s an awfully dramatic comparison.”
I grimace at her choice of words.
“Ask anyone that knows me, and I guess they’ll tell you that’s exactly what I am,” I whisper.
“And that hasn’t made you consider taking it down a notch?”
I stand abruptly. I don’t have to take this.
“You have no right to tell me to take anything down a notch, you hypocrite.”
“I’d never,” she says with false sincerity. “I’m only wondering why you haven’t considered it on your own. Or why no one else has taken you down a peg.”
“You don’t know anything about my pegs,” I bite out.
“I could. Are you into that?”
My eyes widen until I feel like they’re going to fall out of my head.
“You are unbelievable,” I gasp.
“Believe it,” she says.
And just as that exact exchange pulls me into a sense of deja-vu and riles me up again–
She fucking kisses me. I hadn’t even processed how close our faces were until I’m breathing her in. I can only describe my reaction as possession. Something that I don’t fully have control of happens, and it’s like we’re still arguing. She pushes me, I push her. She grabs the back of my neck, I grab a handful of hair. We’re both going hard enough to hurt each other, but it just makes me want to keep going that much more.
It’s this crazy, addictive thing that I don’t want to end.
Which must mean I am absolutely not myself right now. I’m possessed.
Somehow, our feet take us over to her front door, and I’m suddenly pushing her against it. Her shoulder blades hit it with a loud smack, and she retaliates by biting my bottom lip. I moan into her as she licks the place where I still feel the sting of her teeth. There’s even the slight, coppery taste of my own blood in my mouth, and it doesn’t concern me as much as it should.
I’d even be okay if she did it again.
Things move fast, and the world rushes by as I’m being pulled inside of her apartment. There are exclamation points dancing around in my head, things I’d normally think at a time like this.
I’ve never been inside, I should look around.
What will this place tell me about the woman I’m making out with?
More importantly, more prominently: I should not feel safe being here. She’s a stranger. I could end up on one of those true crime podcasts I like listening to so much.
But all of it gets brushed aside when she grabs my breast, and squeezes like she’s trying to memorize the feel of it. It’s the one thing she’s done that isn’t bruising, and it takes my breath away. I’d offer to take some of my clothes off, to give her better access, but I’m obviously not the leader here. I’m just enjoying the ride, tasting her tongue like it’s candy. She does taste like candy–like a creamsicle more specifically.
How am I supposed to stop?
She gives me that answer pretty instantly when she pulls back to look into my eyes. I feel a deep satisfaction that I’m the reason for her current appearance. Flushed cheeks, and a quickly rising chest.
“That’s enough,” she says breathlessly.
I take a step back and put even more space between us. Not knowing my surroundings, it of course leads to me knocking into the corner of a side table. A chunky candle goes falling to the ground, and I brace for the sound of the glass shattering. It never comes, thanks to the dark, plush rug she has on the floor. I pick it up and put it back in its place.
“Sorry. Yeah. Okay.” My words are punctuated by my own attempt to catch my breath.
I watch as she fixes her hair, flatting the top with her palms, and running her fingers through the length of it. It’s hard to gauge her reasoning like this, all I want to do is stare at those swollen lips until they’re on mine again.
“I’m sorry if I–” If I what? I don’t know, I can’t think.
I loved every second of it, but something a lot like guilt is settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Nope, it’s okay.” She turns away from me suddenly. “Let yourself out.”
I don’t get to respond before she’s down the hall and walking through a door. Despite not knowing where the door leads, I’m momentarily tempted to follow after her. I can’t explain why, it’s not like she’s someone I care about. I don’t even know her.
I don’t even know her name .
And I have no idea what just happened. At least the part after the incredible make out. The before and during will be on replay in my mind for a while.
Holy crap , that was hot.
I look around, hating the barrage of thoughts in my head. It’s like the spirit has left my body, and I’m back in control, getting used to thinking my own thoughts.
Why would she kiss me again ? Why would she want to stop so suddenly? I can only worry she wasn’t as into it as I was. The thought crosses my mind that maybe I’m not a very good kisser, not that I’ve ever had any complaints.
I don’t know, something tells me she was very into it. That feeling between us, that physical chemistry had to be felt in both parties.
Although, I have been delusionally sure of things like that in the past. I make it way too easy for people to hurt me when I sit here and convince myself I know what’s going on.
What if she’s in a relationship? The thought pops up so suddenly that it startles me.
It would explain why she’s gone some nights.
Shit. As if life wasn’t uncomfortable enough when she first moved in, this could get way worse. I knew it wasn’t generally a good idea to get involved with your neighbor, considering you can’t escape them.
And my neighbor in particular knows just how to make my life miserable.
My poor parents are going to be so sick of me when I move in. Their kitchen theme is all rustic, beige and brown, and everything of mine is the brightest yellow. It’ll clash so bad, but I won’t submit my cute kitchen towels to months of being stuffed in a storage tub in their garage. They deserve better.
Easily enough, my old bed is still there.
I do as she asked, only guessing which door is the front one because that’s how disoriented I am. I don’t know how far we moved or what direction we turned, but I make my best guess. I doubt I’ll get a warm response if she comes back in here to find I’m lingering like a bad smell. Not that anything she does is ever warm.
Except for when she’s sucking on my neck. Her lips are very warm.
She starts playing her music only hours later. I never really let myself believe she’d stop for good, and I was right. Whether it’s fair of me to feel or not, it seems extra hurtful that she did it tonight of all nights. I can be so certain now, even more than I was, that whatever interest she does have in me is not a good thing.
I don’t even have the energy to fight it by trying to sleep. I put on a pair of headphones and watch some videos on my phone while I wait for it to stop.
It takes hours as usual, until the sun comes up, and then it’s quiet. My eyelids are heavy, and my back hurts from the position I’ve been sitting in. I stretch as best I can, and I slide back down until my head hits my pillow. My alarm gets set for nine, when I have to be awake and getting ready for work. It’s sure better than nothing.
I got a whopping two hours of sleep. You feel good about that?
Her response is there as soon as I get home.
What did I say about my front door?
Get over yourself, I reply
Again she’s quick to respond, because the next is waiting when I go outside to sit on the porch for a bit.
I said I’d be nice if you gave me a cookie. You chose your own fate.
Wow.