The Neighborhood Series (The Neighborhoood) Page 6

  As soon as she removes her warmth from me and leaves the room to clean up, I immediately feel my eyes getting heavy, the alcohol catching up to me.

  I close my eyes and sleep takes me under before Missy returns to the bedroom.

  “Man, you look like complete shit. Rough night?” Micah, the bar manager asks me as I’m sitting in the back storeroom of the bar, with my head in my hands.

  “There needs to be some sort of policy with the bartenders and Lewis. I may have hooked up with someone last night that I shouldn’t have.”

  “Ouch, that bad? Was she an arm biter?”

  “Arm biter?” I ask.

  “You know, you wake up, she’s sleeping on your arm - you look at her and she’s nasty as fuck so you want to gnaw your arm off to run out before she wakes, not even giving a fuck if you leave your arm or not. You leave a bloody trail, but fuck it because you got away.”

  “That’s morbid as fuck.” I shake my head.

  “You gonna be all right to work tonight?” He asks from the doorway.

  I nod my head. “I’ll be fine. I just need some greasy shit from Percy. My shift doesn’t start for another hour, so I’m going to nurse this back here in the peace and quiet.” I state.

  “I’ll make sure to tell that family with the three children to come back then, just for you.” Micah laughs retreating into the hallway and out of sight, his laughter following him down the hall.

  “I’ll tell the kitchen and Percy to whip you up something, stay back here – you look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  Fuck. What the hell did I do last night?

  Oh, that’s right. I let my inhibitions loose and hooked up with Missy Donahue. And what’s even worse is that I passed out and stayed the night.

  Thankfully, when I woke up in the early morning hours, she didn’t stir as I bumped into every surface of her bedroom to put my clothes on. I tip-toed around broken glass in the hallway and made a mad dash to the front door.

  What the hell would I say to her? Sorry, I mistakenly slept with you, but I still don’t want to be your friend.

  The skies were brightening with the crisp morning glory of winter and my breath was visible as I trekked to the curb and got my bearings to figure out where I was.

  Missy wasn’t lying when she said she lived out of the town limits of Mercy. She lived at the property on the other side of the Mercy welcome sign. It took me an hour to walk home, and within that hour, a lot of self-ass kicking.

  What was I thinking?

  How did I get to her house?

  Who started it?

  It was amazing!

  I want to do it again!

  Does she know that I hate her?

  She felt perfect in my arms.

  I spent the next hour before my shift eating and hydrating, but when I walk out into the front, I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

  I just cannot escape her.

  I walk directly up to her, her attention is directed to the television on the opposite side of the wall, I take pleasure in startling her as I throw down the towel hanging from my shoulder in front of her.

  “Care to tell me why you’re here?” I ask with venom in my tone. My arms are crossed over my chest and while she can’t see it, I’m tapping my foot in frustration.

  “You left this morning without saying anything, I was hoping that we could… um… talk?”

  “I think my leaving was a sign that I didn’t want to talk.” I sneer, grabbing the towel and running it along the surface of the bar.

  A customer to her right signals for a drink and I direct my attention to him. She’s waiting for me to return, and so I do what I can to keep busy and my eyes away from her general direction. Which fails when I get a lull in tasks and feel her eyes staring intently at me.

  “I think that we should talk. Once upon a time, we were good friends. Now, you say you hate me and I don’t know why.”

  “You don’t know why?” I laugh.

  Of course, she wouldn’t know that I overheard a conversation; I never made the sudden disappearance of our time spent together as a big deal. But then again, she never inquired as to why I suddenly stopped returning her calls and notes on my dorm door. She eventually gave up when I walked right past her without acknowledging her presence in the student union; it was then that she might have gotten the hint that I wasn’t playing her game anymore.

  “All I know is one day, we were no longer friends. You acted as if I didn’t exist, without any explanation. You would look my way and you just would stare right through me like I didn’t even exist. I have no clue about what happened to make that be how our friendship ended, so yeah - I don’t know why you hate me so much Miles. Or why, if you hate me so much that last night happened.”

  “Alcohol fueled night.” I wave my hand dismissively.

  “Miles?” She starts.

  “Missy, I’m at work. I definitely don’t have the time and this is not the place to have any water cooler talk.”

  “Can we talk after your shift?” She asks with hope.

  “I close,” I say indifferently.

  “I’ll wait. I really want to rekindle our friendship; it’s the one thing that made any sense to me.”

  “I can’t stop you from being here, as much as I would like to. But you can’t just take up space.”

  “In that case, I’ve heard good things about the food that comes out of the kitchen here, can I have a menu?” The smile on her face lights her up and her eyes sparkle as I sigh and hesitantly hand her a menu from the wall behind me.

  The night progresses and eventually, by the end of my shift, I’m in a mellow mood and I’d almost forgotten that Missy was waiting at the end of the bar for me until I was running my closing procedures and noticed her slumped on the bar with tired eyes at the opposite side of the bar.

  I approach her with my jacket in hand.

  “Listen, it’s late and you look like you’re about to keel over. I’m not working until after the dinner rush tomorrow, why don’t we just clear the air then? I’m sorry that you stayed here and waited.” I say sincerely.

  “No, if you’re up for it, I would like to talk. I didn’t move here to Mercy for nothing and as amazing as last night was - I want to talk to you and see if we can possibly make amends.”

  I release a deep breath and run my hand through my hair.

  “Tonight?” I sigh asking resignedly.

  “Tonight,” she nods.

  Chapter Fourteen

  How does one even begin a conversation like this? This is the past and I would rather live in the future. And what does she mean when she said that she didn’t move here to Mercy for nothing.

  Is she here because of me?

  But why?

  I show her to one of the booths along the far wall of the Neighborhood and take my seat across from her.

  “So, spill it?” She directs.

  “I’m a poor small town guy,” I start, saying the words that I overheard her saying all those years ago. “I’m someone that you were only friends with, because you felt bad for me.”

  She takes in every word that I say and I can see the cogs turning, I can see the confusion and disbelief on her features.

  “I’m not following. What made you think this?” She questions.

  “I overheard you Missy. I was on my way to one of our study sessions and heard you explaining to your real friends that I was a charity case, I heard everything you said to them.”

  She is quiet, but her eyes do not stray from me. The silence is thick and I can tell that she is absorbing the information and thinking about what she wants to say carefully.

  “I wasn’t always a nice person. I over performed who I really was to benefit whom my parents wanted me to be. I didn’t know that person was a vile untrustworthy piece of shit until a few years ago, when I saw my whole life crumble like a house of cards in front of my very eyes. I’m sorry if you overheard me saying those things, really, I am. I didn’t mean them.�
��

  “Yeah? Then why even say them?” I ask folding my hands together on the surface of the table between us.

  “Because I was only looking out for myself, my reputation. I learned who my real friends were, and you were always one of them. Probably the only one.” Her chin trembles and her eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “I liked you; I liked you a lot, and even as more than friends. But I knew you didn’t date. I never saw you with any other women and you never talked about anyone you were interested in. But I genuinely liked you.”

  “Yet, for someone who genuinely liked someone, you sure as fuck said some pretty fucked up things.”

  “I wasn’t a good person, I will freely admit that. I had a lot of issues, and one of those was keeping up appearances– how everything I did was a reflection of me.”

  “And you’re different now?”

  “I lost everything, which gave me a perspective that I didn’t have before. I got a harsh look at myself and I didn’t like that person. But I was always real with you. I just may have put on a different mask for those that I was trying to fit in with,” she explains.

  “Why should I believe that you were real with me?” Something isn’t adding up here.

  “I know that my word is likely not good enough, but I was. It’s simple as that. I let myself be who I really was with you. I let down my walls around you, watched movies and did things that the outside version of me would have baulked at.”

  I observe her for the first time tonight. She has barely any make-up on and she’s dressed down again in a simple shirt and jeans.

  “What happened?” I ask leaning forward with my elbows on the tabletop between us.

  “Pardon?” She looks confused by the question.

  “What happened to make you as you say a different person?” I lean in and ask.

  “My family lost all their money. My father went to jail for embezzlement and my mother went into rehab. Everything that I knew growing up was picked apart in the court of public opinion and under scrutiny. I didn’t know what was real anymore after this all happened. I saw my friendships dwindling down to a select few since I didn’t have the status like I did before and a black mark was placed on my family tree. I came to the realization that I was just as fake as my family was.”

  “I’m sorry that happened.” I lean back and say sincerely.

  “And I’m sorry that I said those god awful things about you. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. I wasn’t ashamed of being friends with you, I don’t know what was going through my head at that point, but I am sorry. I missed everything about our friendship; it was the first thing to really bring my life into perspective. I’m seriously, seriously sorry.”

  “It’s getting late; I’ll see you to your car.” I say standing.

  “Are we okay?” She asks, looking up to me as we stand facing one another.

  “I’m not sure yet. What happened last night, I can’t explain. But I’m tired and that was a lot of information to take in and come to any sort of instant decision.” I reply to her as honestly as I can.

  She nods then with her shoulders sagging, we walk side by side to the front of the bar. I motion for her to hold still while I set the alarm, then we’re outside and I’ve walked her to her car.

  “Thank you for talking to me tonight, I know that after a long night - that was likely not what you wanted to do, but really - I appreciate it more than you can imagine.”

  I nod, unsure as to what to say.

  She leans up, with one hand on my upper arm and kisses my cheek. Then runs her lips across the space to the corner of my mouth and hesitantly places a light kiss there. My hands go to her forearms, not to stop her exactly, but out of reflex. I turn into her and our lips meet again.

  I open up for her seeking mouth and our tongues briefly taste one another.

  With little hesitation, I pull her into me succumbing to the passion and ignoring all the red flags telling me that I need to think about my actions so as to not confuse her. I pull back, her lips opened slightly from the sudden break of contact. Her glassy eyes slowly meet mine, confusion clearly evidenced through the sudden disconnect.

  “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t.” I mumble, leaving the meaning unspoken.

  She nods her head and gives me a small smile, hiding her disappointment.

  “I’m sorry, Miles,” she says quietly, with her eyes aimed at the ground, opens her car door and gets into the driver’s seat without another look at me.

  Now, I feel like the ass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I find myself on Missy’s front porch the next morning with a bag of bagels and some coffee. As I wait for her to open the door, I recite my apology in my head over and over again.

  After what seems like forever, she answers the door with her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing flannel pajamas.

  Definitely not what I pictured her wearing. Ever.

  Her expression conveys to me that she wasn’t expecting me at her door as her mouth drops open and she struggles for words.

  “Peace offering?” I hold up my hands, as she steps back and opens the door wider to let me in.

  I brush past her while handing her the coffee that I got for her.

  “You still drink vanilla soy lattes, right?” I ask as she accepts my offering to her.

  “I wasn’t expecting any company, um… please excuse the mess,” she says as I step further into her space.

  “It’s okay.” I say, walking to the small bistro table she has set up in her kitchen. I set the bag down and begin digging inside to place the bagels on the table. I motion to the chair for her to sit in and take my seat across from her.

  I take a bite out of my bagel and watch the continued confusion across her face. She looks between the bagel, the coffee and me.

  “I’m really confused,” she says.

  “About what?” I ask with a mouthful of shmear.

  “What is happening right now?” she asks spreading her hand over the bagels.

  “We’re eating breakfast. A peace offering of a sort.” I shrug.

  “Miles, you didn’t say that you forgave me or that we were even friends. We hook up and you leave before I wake up. You kiss me, and then turn cold. You bring me food and expect me to not be confused? I’m getting whiplash here.”

  It’s my turn to talk, and to let her know how I feel. How I felt when she said those things about me to complete strangers, who were supposed to be her friends. How seeing her after the past few years have fucked with my head and has me doing shit that I know is fucked up.

  “No bullshit, right?” I start and wait for her to either agree or decline. She nods her head and bites her lower lip that I find extremely sexy. I blink a few times to clear those thoughts and cough to clear my throat.

  “Back in college, we were friends. I wanted to be more than friends, of course. But I knew you were out of my league. I knew that I was what you called me to those girls, and that I could never measure up. But, that’s who I was, who I am. I am the guy from a small town. I’m not a city guy and that’s one of the reasons why I moved back to Mercy after graduation. When I overheard you saying those things about me, it made me take a look at what I thought was a budding friendship, and I saw it as a facade or a pity friendship. So yes, I iced you out completely. I was hurt. The woman that I was crazy about, she thought of me as a pest, a charity case.”

  “I-.” I put my hand up indicating that I’m not done when she tries to interject.

  “I know that I was acting childish at the time. I should have talked to you before completely dismissing our friendship, and that’s on me. So, I’m sorry about that. But I need you to understand, I was hurt. I acted on impulse and while that impulse was likely not the best route to go - it was how I coped. Now, to the present. We are both grown adults, we’ve both dealt with some heavy shit and we both know each other’s secrets. The other night and the kiss last night, I’m sorry, we should have talked before jumping into... well bed with one ano
ther.”

  “Are you saying that we can be friends?” She sniffs.

  “If you want to be, I wanted to say all that because I thought that I needed to clear the air a little, so in turn this,” I motion to the food in front of us, “peace offering, remember?” I wink.

  She pushes up from her chair and flings herself at me, sitting on my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. She squeezes and it’s not long before I feel dampness falling to my shoulder. I pull her away slightly to look up at her.

  “Hey, why the tears?” I ask trying to catch her eyes that she averts to the side.

  “I’m just so happy.” She breathes in and replies.

  My arms wrap around her and I pull her to me again. I breathe in her scent of mint and tangerine. I nuzzle into her neck and continue to breathe her in as she holds onto me tightly.

  I mentally tell myself to squash the sudden feeling of lust as my cock swells. Hormones should not ruin this moment.

  However, she must have been feeling the same way as her tears soon turned into kisses and her hands were finding their way into the collar of my shirt for skin-to-skin contact. My hands also find their way along her lower back underneath her flannel top. Her skin so soft and warm.

  She pulls her body away and lowers her head, leans in and our lips meet without a moment’s hesitation to second-guess what we’re doing.

  She arranges herself on my lap to where she’s sitting astride me. Her breath is hot and her tongue is seeking my own. My grasp on her tightens as the kiss deepens. I should stop her, but I can’t. I don’t want to.

  Our tongues are a tangle of exploration in the moment, our hands roam to feel as much as we can and her hips squirm against my erection.

  I’m the first to pull away, her lips are pink from the friction of my unshaved face and her eyes are glossed over.

  “I’m didn’t mean to - I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry-,” she scrambles off my lap and back to her own chair.

  “We need to stop saying that we’re sorry.” I clear my throat. “But I’m not sorry about that kiss.” I confess catching her attention as she looks at me, shocked that I said that.