10
For two days—two whole days—my neighbor was out.
She said she’d be visiting her folks.
So, for the past forty-eight hours, I’ve done absolutely nothing productive.
Sam invited me to another party, but I politely declined. I was worried Kate might be there.
I don’t think I’m ready to see her again. I still have a few weeks left before school starts—and with it, the possibility of seeing her face every day.
I just hope we don’t end up in the same class. That would be torture.
I know for a fact that I don’t have feelings for her anymore. That ship sailed a long time ago.
But maybe the reason I’m still avoiding her is because... she broke my heart? Or maybe I was just humiliated?
And now that she’s back, she’s acting like nothing ever happened. Like she didn’t just casually tear me apart and disappear.
She’s flaunting her new self, her new energy. But when I really think about it… was I ever in love with her?
Or was I just in love with the idea of being in love?
Maybe it was just infatuation.
Whatever it was, I’m done. Truly.
Most of my thoughts lately have been consumed by one person—Emma.
The girl next door.
Whenever I’m with her, I’m happy.
Even just sitting next to her, watching TV in silence, makes me feel content.
Every time I cook for her and she enjoys it, it feels like my heart might burst from how full it gets.
Her touch burns in the best way, her smile and laugh melt me completely.
It’s already more than I ever felt with Kate.
Emma makes me genuinely happy. And I want to make her feel the same.
But unfortunately, that’s never going to happen.
For starters, she’s definitely straight. And also—she’s an adult. And I’m a minor.
Maybe I should stop going over there.
This crush is getting too strong, too fast. I’m scared it’ll turn into something more. And then, before I know it, I’ll do something stupid. Something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
I nearly jumped off the couch when my phone vibrated.
I'm home. Come over if you want.
A smile immediately tugged at my lips.
I actually grabbed my jaw and cheeks to try and stop myself.
No, don’t smile, idiot! my mind yelled.
I was still in that exact position—hands gripping my own face—when my mom walked in.
“My dear, you’re not possessed, are you?” she asked, barely stifling her laughter so she wouldn’t wake my dad.
“Mom!” I shrieked, running to my bedroom in absolute embarrassment.
How did I not hear her come in?
I knew she and my dad were home—today’s Sunday.
I checked the time. 3:00 PM.
I’d almost forgotten about Emma’s message. I took my phone back out and read it again.
This time, I didn’t stop myself from smiling.
I slipped out of my room quietly. I didn’t want Mom to see me leave—she’d definitely tease me.
I peeked into the living room. Clear.
I sprinted out of the house like I was on a covert mission.
I let myself relax outside for a few seconds, then headed to Emma’s.
I rang the bell—twice. No answer.
Weird. She said she was home.
I tried the doorknob and it turned. It was unlocked.
She really shouldn’t leave her door like this—she could get robbed.
I stepped in, scanned the living room and kitchen—empty.
I made my way to her room. The door was open.
And there she was. Half-naked.
My breath caught in my throat. Her back was to me. She was in tiny shorts that didn’t hide much and only a bra.
I couldn’t breathe. Afraid even a small sound would give me away.
She was digging through her closet, probably trying to find something to wear.
I hadn’t imagined seeing her like this. Her waist, her hips, her thighs—dear God.
I was just about to quietly step back and wait in the living room when she turned around.
Our eyes met.
She screamed.
“Shit, Jen! You scared the hell out of me!” she yelled.
I don’t think she realized that, by facing me, I could now clearly see her chest.
She was still wearing a bra, yes—but still.
We just stared at each other for a few seconds, frozen.
My gaze involuntarily dipped for like two seconds before her cough jolted me. I looked back up immediately.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she quickly tried to cover herself.
I turned away to give her privacy—and to calm the storm happening in my own head.
In my peripheral vision, I could tell she was done dressing. But she just stood there, waiting.
“How long were you standing there?” she asked.
Long enough to see YOU, my brain answered.
She still looked flustered, her cheeks pink, eyes not quite meeting mine.
“Not long. I just came in, actually,” I lied. Probably not the best time to tease her.
“Oh. Okay,” she said, brushing it off.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, heading toward the kitchen. I followed.
“I brought lasagna—my mom made it.” She pulled the tray from the fridge.
“I already did, but I want to try it,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen island while she reheated a slice in the microwave.
God, this was awkward.
“So… how was the trip?” I tried to get a conversation going. She hesitated at first, then smiled softly.
“It was really good. I didn’t realize how much I missed my mom until I saw her.”
Her eyes lit up as she spoke, voice warm and animated.
For the next twenty minutes, she told me everything about her short trip—like it had been two whole months instead of just two days.
And I just watched her.
Not because of what she was saying.
But because of how she said it.
So excited. So happy.
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