19. 19
19
V ic's daughter is born when I'm at work. I rush around, trying to get someone to cover for me, but it's never that simple.
By the time I make it to the hospital, Vic and Angeline are asleep. They've had all of their visitors come and go. Julian is halfway unconscious himself, but awake enough to let me know I should visit another time. Probably when they're home and settled in.
I hesitate to go, wanting Vic to know I showed up. She understands my work situation, and I know she wouldn't be upset that I couldn't just leave the store unattended. It's the reality of retail management.
But I like the part that I missed, and I know it would've meant more to Vic to see me sooner. It wouldn't meant more to me to see Angeline's eyes, or hold her when she was first awake and taking everything in. Brand new babies are so special, the way you can tell just how they're trying to process what they're looking at. It's a uniquely beautiful thing, one you don't get to see often.
She won't be a mastermind or anything in a day or two, at least I don't think, but I'm still upset I missed it today.
Julian promises to pass along that I was here, and that I'm sorry. I text her to reiterate the same thing, just in case.
Every time my neighbor and I are together, I think of a new question to ask, although I rarely get a chance to actually ask them before she’s ushering me out of her apartment. The ones I have snuck in usually go unanswered.
Where do you go on Thursdays or Fridays? Nowhere that’s my business.
What are you going to school for? To get a higher education.
What led to you moving in here? Needing a place to live.
She’s quite the locked box.
Tonight she shocked me by asking her own question.
“When did you get divorced?”
I blink at her, thinking she can’t be serious.
“What makes you think I want to satisfy any of your curiosity?”
“Fine. If you tell me, I’ll tell you when I got divorced.”
I gape.
“You’ve been divorced?”
“See, I’m already giving you info. Your turn.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to know anything about me,” I point out.
She rolls her eyes, losing her patience. I’m getting kicked out any second now.
“I’m just curious. You seem young.”
“That’s one way to call me immature.”
“Not my preferred way. If that’s what I meant, I’d say it.”
I don’t know her well enough to take her at her word, but it sends a rush through me anyway.
It wasn’t even a compliment, Reya.
“I’d rather select the information I get in return. I have to think about it.”
She sinks down in her bed, looking exasperated.
“This wasn’t an open ended offer. Nothing else is on the table.”
“Aren’t you curious about anything else? I’m sure I’ve got some good, juicy details up my sleeve.”
“You’re pushing it,” she says. “I asked one question. I don’t even care enough to know the answer if you’re going to turn it into a thing.”
“You’re impossible,” I grumble. “It’s been a few years now.”
She side-eyes me.
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Twenty-seven! Ha! Now you owe me two details.”
I feel victorious. Not even over my gain, but over her curiosity. She asked without even thinking.
I like knowing Ms. Mysterious is curious about me.
“I got divorced almost two years ago. I’m twenty-nine.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Get out,” she says.
“Oh, come on!”
She starts pulling the blankets out from under me, and it doesn’t force me off the bed like she’s hoping.
Instead I roll onto my back, pretending to look really comfortable. It’s not even pretending, her mattress is so much nicer than my own. Her pillows are filled with feathers, and they’re fluffier than anything I’ve rested my head on before. The sheets are made of something I couldn’t even name, and the black comforter that’s now bunched up in her arms is thick enough that I feel like I’m being cuddled by it. It might be weighted, I’ve always wanted one of those.
“It’s a shame you won’t let me pass out right here,” I say with a yawn. “I’m a great person to sleep with. I don’t make a sound.”
She doesn’t need to know about my tendency to flail my arms around, though. She’d probably deserve it if she got knocked upside the head.
“I do. Loads of sounds. Better save yourself.” Her voice is monotone, bored even.
I keep asking myself why I still even have this crush on her. The only thing she does for me is sexual, and it usually takes more to hook me in.
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Yeah? Ex was a bad snorer?” she asks.
“No, my neighbor’s just really annoying.”
“You’re annoying,” she snaps back. “Why are you still here? Go home!”
“Tell me your birthday and I’ll go.”
She glares daggers into me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say I actually felt the prick of them on my skin.
“You’re going to go anyway. I don’t feel like bargaining anymore.”
Way to ruin my fun.
Because it is fun. I want more of this bantering, or arguing, or whatever it is. I want to sit here and fool around and get to know all the reasons why she’s like this. I could write a couple hundred page book on why I am the way I am, but I have a feeling hers would be in the thousands.
She’s in a good mood and it scares me.
“October seventeenth,” she says as I approach. She’s sitting in my chair, and appears to have been waiting for me.
I eye her suspiciously.
“What?”
“You wanted my birthday. October seventeenth. Be sure to get me a gift,” she says.
“Okay…” I draw the word out, making it ten times as long.
She’s smiling wide, too wide for my comfortability.
“No, now is the part where you tell me yours.”
“July twelfth,” I mutter on autopilot. If I had any sense, I would have withheld that answer in order to get more out of her. “Are you high?” I ask.
“I wish,” she admits. “No, just got some good news. Feeling generous.”
“What’s the news?” I wholly expect her to shut me down, but she beams even brighter.
Fuck, she is so stunning that I have to close my eyes in order to not be blinded by it.
“My parents are getting divorced!” She says the words with the same tone that one might announce they won the lottery.
“That’s… good?” I take a guess.
“I’ve been waiting years for this day.” She leans back, closing her eyes, all the joy in the world still on her face.
“Do you hate your parents?”
“Just one of them.”
I don’t know what else to say, this is more than she’s ever shared with me.
“I’m having whiplash.”
She chuckles, her eyes still closed.
“Don’t make it a thing. Sit down.”
How can I not make it a thing? This is such a thing. Last night she was her usual closed off self, and less than twenty four hours later, I have more than I know what to do with.
“You know who I am, right?”
I have to make sure.
“Not technically. What’s your name?”
My brows raise, the absurd realization that we haven’t previously exchanged this information hitting me so hard. I laugh loudly.
“How have you never asked me that?”
“How have you never asked mine?”
“Good point.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m Kara.”
Kara . Wow. That really fits her.
It also brings up the shadow of a memory, something I don’t stand a chance of remembering. She’s more than likely not the first person I’ve ever met with that name, but I can’t think of who else it was or how I’d know them.
“I’m Reya,” I tell her.
She smiles again at that.
“Quite fitting for such a ray of sunshine .”
And my breath catches in my throat.
She rolled her eyes at the last three words, but there was no real annoyance there. There was nothing negative about it at all, it was practically endearing.
There’s no way she could have known that my parents have called me that since I was a kid. That hearing that nickname is the quickest way to make me feel safe and warm and—
Shit, it’s finally hitting me that this might not just be a silly, forgettable crush. Somehow, even amongst all of the bullshit, I seem to have caught some feelings for this woman.
My neighbor.
Kara.