Aaron turns to me with wide eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, his expression shows he's dying to join but is afraid I might just be bluffing.
“I've never meant anything more,” I tell him honestly. “While I have been quite good at all the technological stuff, you've always been more of a people person.” I nudge him as I say, “Don't forget we made a pretty good team in high school.”
Aaron nods, his eyes shining. “We were unstoppable. Unbeatable. I guess you're right,” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter, a move he's always adopted to quell his excitement. I almost fist pump the air but hold it in, allowing the excitement to run through my body and heat me up from inside. For the first time, I feel like I'm actually getting my life and act together. The only downer being the fact that my parents may never approve of this. But this is my dream, not theirs, so it is a risk I’m willing to take.
CHAPTER3
BETH
When I spontaneously decided to defer a semester of school, I had not envisioned the endless boring days and how absolutely quiet my parents' home would be. The isolation is what I guess a lot of people would have embraced. But the truth is that the peaceful and quiet life gives me too much time on my hands to think. And thinking was never a good thing for me. Because I came home to forget. In fact, I bought the first ticket home after what happened because I just couldn’t stay there anymore.
One moment in time had all my dreams fading to smoke.
As a young girl, I used to play in my room, picturing my husband coming home as I took care of our babies, like my mom and dad. I always wanted a family and finding love.
As I grew up, I found out how much I love computers and data and so I went to college to pursue my dream.
Then Smith…
I can’t let my mind go back there. That is the past and I can’t think about it orhimanymore. All I know is, now I just want to hide here and forget the male gender for as long as I can.
Men are a foul breed and apart from my dad, and okay, maybe my brother, all others are to be avoided like the plague.
And though I hate how quiet the house is, I love that my parents aren't around to cast those pitiful stares at me. I mean, I stopped moping around two weeks ago, but they still fuss over me like I’m about to slit my wrists with a blunt knife.
Humidity makes my muscled shirt cling to my skin and I hate it, so I get up to pull it off and a commotion right outside draws my attention. Curiously moving toward the window, I push the drapes wider apart, gasping when I catch sight of two burly men hustling a white couch towards the front porch of the home that has been vacant for years.
Has someone finally purchased the house?
Skipping toward the back door, I’m curious to see who is moving in. I’m curious if they’ll be anything like our old neighbors, but all I see is the back of an athletic-looking guy that looks to be in his mid-thirties. He has his back to me, but from my vantage point, he doesn’t look bad at all. His jeans are well worn; the button up, a bit classier—a weird combo he manages to pull off, looking really cool in it as he places both hands on his waist.
I am entranced at the sight of him, and for a moment, I will him in my mind to turn around because I’m suddenly curious to know if he looks as good from the front as he does from the back. Which, of course, does not happen.
“I think we can get it in if Johnny gets behind and tries to muscle it through the other angle,” the man, who appears to be in charge, says. Could he be our new neighbor?
I don’t see any signs of kids or a wife, so either he is the movers’ boss or he’s unmarried.
I know I shouldn’t be thinking this, especially after all that happened, but such a fine specimen of man being off the market would be honestly quite a loss. Talk about a lasting first impression, something that even Smith didn’t manage to make.Damn, there I go thinking about him again.
As the movers continue to struggle, I shift closer, basically standing on tiptoe to catch the last glimpses of the man as he disappears slowly from my line of sight, until the most embarrassingly unexpected thing happens; My feet slip, and my balance is shot. Flailing like a drunk butterfly, I cuss out as the rough plant scratches the skin of my arms as I fall ungracefully over the edge, theatrically landing on my ass.
My klutziness catches the attention of the movers as well as the object of my admiration who turns, shock etched on his features. The movers look like they’re trying to hold in laughter, snickering quietly when I full-on glare at them. The neighbor does not just stand and watch but moves towards me, his arms already outstretched which is when I finally have a good look at his face, the blood draining from mine.
Mitchell Bridges??!!!As in, my old neighbor Mitch? What the fuck?
The same shock on my face is reflected on his because he falters for a second when he catches sight of me, but he recovers much more quickly. My jaw is still hanging embarrassingly open. Will I need to go to the ER to have it wired shut? I seem unable to so much as move. It really is Mitchell Bridges.
Oh my God.
Mitchell Bridges had plagued my teenage dreams and lived in my fantasies. I’d had a hopeless crush on him when I was younger, back when we had been neighbors. Why is he back? Aren’t his parents like super-rich now or something?
I have so many questions ricocheting in my brain but I do not voice them because my dignity is through the floor, a crumpled mess too. When he moves even closer and holds out a hand, I move mine into it without conscious thought, a bit impressed when he hurls me to my feet with minimal effort, his arms flexing, the muscles bunching sexily.
“Hi Beth,” he greets me, his eyes running over my form.
I self-consciously tug at my shirt when his eyes linger on my chest area. I hadn’t even bothered with a bra. God, end my life now.
“Hi Mitch,” I whisper, eyes looking everywhere but at him. My cheeks flame at being caught spying in just my shorts and shirt. How must I look to him?