Accidental Neighbor by Sharon Woods
Chapter 5
Jennifer
The best part of the weekend is usually sleeping in. My normal blissful state is destroyed this morning when a shrill beeping penetrates through my bedroom window, along with the rumble of an engine that seems much bigger than a car. I groan at the early wake-up call, thinking those things should be illegal, especially on the weekend.
I throw the blanket over my head, hoping to block out all the noise. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. My stomach grumbles and rather than lie in bed for another minute, I push the blankets off my body and sit up. I blink around my room as I adjust to the light, then reach over to my phone that’s sitting on my bedside table to check the time. It’s just after eleven. I'm surprised it's so late. Usually I wake up at half past five when I work the early shift, and eight a.m. when I work the late shift at the childcare center.
The thumping and crunching noises are still out my window. Tossing my phone on my bed, I mosey over to the window, stretching my back out on the way over, then I pull the curtains aside to peer out. There is a truck reversing up the driveway next door, and there are a few cars parked out front, but I don’t recognize any of them. Standing by the cars is a circle of five men, with an older couple and two young girls. A few of the men have their backs to me so I can’t make them out from here. The two facing this way I can just make out. I try and lean in to get a better view. One has sandy-blond hair, tanned skin, and is wearing black shorts and a t-shirt. The other has brown hair, but he bends down to play with the older of the two girls. I wonder which one is moving next door from the group.
I bet it’s the older couple. It simply slipped my mind that the handover was today. After seeing enough, I close the curtain, spin around, and pick up my phone from the bed, then wander out to eat some breakfast. I'm surprised my Mom hasn’t started vacuuming the house and knocking on my door just to wake me up.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Mom must sense me because she hasn’t even set eyes on me; I could be my sister Megan for all she knows.
I step toward the kettle and flick it on. “Good morning. Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“No, I'm fine, Jennifer. Can I cook you breakfast? I was about to make a start on dinner.”
My mom and dad are the only ones to use my formal name. Everyone else shortens it to Jen.
“I just woke up and we are already discussing dinner? I think I’ll be happy with tea and toast.” I chuckle at how organized my mom is. Always a few steps ahead. I'm organized, but she makes me look like a hot mess.
I hear the flick of the boiled water and move to the kettle to grab a cup, bobbing my tea bag in.
Carrying my tea, I move to sit on a stool behind the counter and blow on the steam. The house is quiet compared to the usual weekend commotion. “Where is Megan and Dad this morning?”
Mom is chopping up vegetables for dinner. I watch her, sipping my tea.
“Dad went to help the guy next door move furniture and introduce himself probably about an hour ago.”
Hearing Mom say he is over there helping doesn’t surprise me; my dad is the most helpful and polite man. It’s probably why my standards with guys are so high, I expect them to treat me the way my dad treats Mom. His love and support toward her is endearing. I would love to find that type of connection. They have been together since they were fourteen and are blissfully married. To have a caring and loving man in my life is a dream; guys my age are definitely not like that.
And the last time I had a boyfriend was two years ago. We dated for a year, but he wanted to live a single life and go out and party, whereas I want to live a simple, quiet life. Two very different things desired, we separated on good terms. And since then I have had a few dates and they say they want to settle down, but then their actions say something clearly different. And I’m so over playboys.
Lifting the cup of tea to my mouth, I take a large sip. “And Meg?”
“She went shopping with her friends. She left only a few minutes ago. You just missed her. I was going to wake you to see if you wanted to go.”
My mom knows I don’t enjoy shopping so I'm glad she didn’t wake me up. I feel so refreshed after last night’s sleep. The extra hours I stayed back at work this week were hard on me. I was physically exhausted last night. One of the girls caught a stomach bug from a child in her room so they were short on workers.
I have just recently applied to be manager of one of the rooms and I'm waiting to hear back on my application result.
A colleague is about to go on maternity leave, freeing up the position. I have been going a little bit harder, trying to go above my usual role and help. I want to prove myself to them, in hopes that it will pay off.
I start to make some toast in preparation for a run. I finish eating and quickly change into my running gear and as I walk out, I find my mom wiping the counters in the kitchen. Stalking past her on my way to the door I say, “Mom, I’m going to go for a run around the block so don’t lock me out.” I put my headphones in and scroll through Spotify to find my workout playlist.
“Okay, be safe.”
I press play on Dua Lipas’ song, “Levitating,” and it begins to blast through my AirPods. I trek in the opposite way to the new neighbor’s house to avoid getting stuck making small talk and get my workout in. I normally run a few times a week. I like to eat whatever I crave so the exercise keeps my shape.
Wearing my usual oversized t-shirt and a pair of black running shorts, I take to the street to run around my block. My pace is pretty good until about halfway when the sun shining on my back heats me up to an uncomfortable level, and I start struggling to breathe. The pain in my lungs becomes unbearable, and the cramps in my legs begin. Knowing I am so close to home, I just power through.
I feel my face burning hot, my cheeks feeling crimson, and sweat drenches my body making my t-shirt stick to my back. I can't wait to shower as soon as I get inside.
Turning the corner onto my street, I can see my house up ahead so I urge my legs a little faster. As I approach, my dad's voice cuts through the music playing from my headphones. “Jennifer,” my dad’s voice chants.
My heart leaps and I come to an abrupt stop, not seeing the toy under me until it’s too late. I fall flat on my hands and knees.
“Ouch!”
“Jennifer, are you alright?” I can hear footsteps getting closer. I slowly peel myself off the pavement. God, my hands and knees burn. I sit back on my heels and peer up to a group of unknown faces etched with concern. I blush and avert my eyes to my dad, who has kneeled in front of me.
“Er, I, ah, think so. I think I just grazed my hands and knees. And my chin is aching.”
His hand is outstretched to help me up. I slowly move one leg up at a time, the air stinging my knee. I suck a harsh breath in. Then I begin to get the other leg from under me and stand up. Having my dad to lean on is great because I'm a little wobbly. Why do I have to be such a klutz?
Once I stand, I turn my hands over and inspect the damage to my heels. Just the top layer is grazed. I'll need to clean it up inside. “Thanks, Dad,” I say.
The group wanders off back to unpacking. I stare down at the little colorful blocks. I should have been paying better attention, but all I was staring at was the house. Dad tried to warn me but was a little too late.
“I'm so sorry about that; my daughter shouldn’t leave her toys lying around.” All the hairs on my body stand up; the familiarity of the tone sends my gaze flying up to seek the owner. Staring back at me are those deep-brown eyes from Olivia’s birthday. The hot older guy, Thomas.
He wasn’t a part of the group of faces I fell over in front of, was he? I would have remembered; it's not a face I would forget. I should have paid closer attention, but I was too embarrassed that I fell over in front of an audience.
He squats to collect all the little blocks scattered on the pavement. His gaze flicks between mine and the blocks, his face etched with concern. I stare back with wide eyes, a gaping mouth, trying to talk but no words leave my mouth. There’s only movement from my jaw. I feel my face burning with embarrassment. I really want to go run inside and shower. Does he recognize me? Pieces of my hair are sticking to my forehead, and sweat beads run down my back. I’m standing in front of him looking like a hot mess while he is here in a sexy casual look, a gray t-shirt that fits like a glove showing off his rippled muscles and black running shorts showing off his toned, tanned legs.
My mouth agape, wishing words will leave my mouth, when they don’t, I squat down and help him collect the remaining blocks. I will myself to hurry up and find my words. I lift my gaze back to his, and when his gaze meets mine, the spark hits me full force. A small shy smile forms and I finally speak. “That’s okay; they are only kids.” My voice sounds higher-pitched than I wanted.
The electricity and pull I have for Thomas has me averting my gaze back to the safety of my dad. Thomas is setting my skin on fire. The sun is hot, but he is making it feel scorching. I bite down hard on my lip as the flash of a memory from the pub slams into me. The feeling of his lips pressed against mine, massaging with the softest of kisses. The way he danced and touched my body with his hands. My body hums for him even now with an audience. I don't understand why my body is in a state of flutter.
Dad is just standing there, relaxed and at ease, all concern removed from his face, oblivious to my flustered state. “This is our new neighbor, Thomas. He just moved in today,” he states matter-of-factly.
Oh, I know they moved in today. The noise woke me up.
I try to absorb the new information by repeating the sentence in my head.
My new neighbor.
Thomas is my new neighbor.
Shit.
Dad interrupts my running thoughts. “Thomas, this is my oldest daughter, Jennifer.” I stop biting my lip, smashing my lips together. I glance briefly at my dad and then avert my gaze slowly back to Thomas.
I can’t tell my dad I have already met Thomas. I'm sure he wouldn’t be so polite if he knew how well. I also can’t call him Tom, even though I know he told me I should the night we met. My dad would question me as to why I call him that and how I know him. All of which I don’t want to answer.
More memories hit me when I get a whiff of his cologne from being this close in proximity. Remembering his spicy taste and how his tongue massaged mine, my mouth suddenly goes dry.
“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” I choke out.
His hand rubs the back of his neck. “Nice to meet you, Jennifer. And I'm really sorry about the toys left on the sidewalk.” He glances away when a high-pitched squeal is heard from inside the house. We all turn to watch a little blond girl, wearing a gorgeous frilly pink dress and braids, running out from the house up toward us.
“Daddy. Daddy, guess what! Nana said if I go to university, I can be anything I want. I said I want to be a mermaid.”
A giggle leaves my lips at how adorable the little girl is. Her eyes are shimmering in a hazel color as she stands abruptly in front of him, causing my breath to hitch. Does this mean what I think it means?
My recent desires are drying up and a cold shiver runs through me. A sudden feeling of disappointment and disgust hits my stomach.
“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart, but I need to talk to you.” I watch as he squats down and gently speaks. “You know how Daddy tells you to pack up your toys?” He waits for her to answer.
She nods vigorously at him. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Well, because you left some outside, Jennifer here.” He points up to me and I watch as the little girl's gaze meets mine. “She tripped on some of your toys and hurt herself. You need to pack your toys up from now on, please. Could you apologize to her? For leaving your blocks out.”
She looks back toward her dad and then back at me with a frown forming on her little face. “Sorry for leaving my toys out. My daddy always says fuck when he trips on our toys.” The horror and the audible intake of breath has my eyes flicking to Thomas. His face and her innocence have me rolling my lips, biting back a laugh that's desperately trying to escape. The best part of kids is honesty. I peer down at the ground to prevent smiling a big shit-eating grin. When I compose myself, I glance up at her again.
The little girl is staring at me, waiting for my response. I squat down and wince when the scrape on my knee pulls with the movement. “Thanks for the apology. My scratches feel much better already.” I smile.
Her face drops with relief. “But your chin is still bleeding.” She points in the direction of my chin.
Touching my chin, I feel the cuts of rough skin and warm liquid. I cringe inwardly at the thought of my appearance. I’m sure I must be a real shock for Thomas; he is seeing me at my worst, literally, and compared to the done-up version I was on the night we met, it’s like night and day. I need to get away from here. The back of my head is beginning to hurt. I feel a headache coming on.
“Lily, please.” Thomas cuts her off, eyebrows drawn together.
“I think I should wash it off and make it better; what do you think?” I say, trying to calm the situation down.
“Do you have princess Band-Aids to put on? My daddy buys them for me. I can give you one.”
I slowly stand back up, peering at my dad who is clearly loving the little girl’s personality, based on the sparkle in his eyes. I turn to answer. “No, I don’t, but it’s okay. You keep them in case you need them; they sound special. But thank you.”
I peer at Lily, Thomas, and my dad in turn, not wanting to stay on one face for too long.
“Well, ah, I best head inside and clean up. It was nice to meet you, Thomas and Lily.”
I briefly peek longer at him before darting my gaze back to Lily, then my dad.
“Bye,” they say in unison.
I wave at everyone before dropping my head down, unable to glance in Thomas’s direction again. I begin to pick up my pace, speed walking to the path that leads to our house. Pushing open the wood door and once I’m in the safety of my house, I take a deep breath, shaking my head from the awkward interaction. What the hell was that?
Replaying the conversation over and over in my head on my walk to the bathroom, my mind is jumbled with thoughts and questions.
Thomas has a child?
Where is his wife?
Is he married?
I kissed someone’s husband?