The Boy Next Door

I swung the front door open, and saw Grey standing on my doorstep. Amongst the chaos, he was the calm that I needed. One hand sat gently in the pocket of his jeans, while the other pushed off the door frame he had been leaning against. His hair was starting to get long, but I didn’t mind it. In fact, the way it stood up like he had just violently rubbed his fingers through it was pretty damn sexy. It wasn’t like anything Grey did wasn’t sexy. He was the perfect combination of lean and muscular, complete with year-round sun-kissed skin and the jaw of a movie star worthy to play a sparkly vampire. Leslie constantly prompted me that it was our duty for the future of the human race to one day procreate. The way he flashed a smile and leaned in, wrapping me up in a comforting hug, certainly made me okay with the idea.

As I pressed my lips together with my arms still around my boyfriend, my eyes slowly drifted to the house across the street. It wasn’t anything more than a casual glance. It was the pretty Japanese maple tree that had caught my eye, not the towering hockey player emerging from his GMC in the laneway. He shut the driver door, quickly glancing down at his phone. When he looked up, his gaze shifted. To me.

I sprung off of Grey faster than you could say, “caught”. I hid myself behind Grey’s body, which wasn’t hard to do. “Why don’t you come in?” I asked, quickly grabbing his hand and yanking him inside.

Even with a hard tug that could have practically ripped his arm out of its socket, he didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, babe, but I really can’t. Gotta make it to the gym before work if I want to stay worthy enough for you.”

I tried to hide a smile, scrunching my nose at him. “How did you manage to make ditching me for a treadmill sound so good?”

He shrugged and gave me a wink. “Be right back.”

He hopped down the steps, with nothing but a parked GMC in the laneway across from mine. When Grey returned, he held a bouquet of flowers in each hand. I brought my hands to my mouth as he laboured up the stairs with the giant arrangements.

“Grey! You really shouldn’t have...”

“One is for you, for everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, and this one is for your mom, for being so nice and understanding.”

I almost felt tears forming in my eyes as they bulged like a puppy dog’s. Almost. He was such a sweetheart that I wanted to storm across the street and cancel plans with Erik for that evening and for the rest of my life. Instead, I called my mom downstairs and took one of the bouquets. As my mother descended the stairs, she gasped dramatically as Grey held out the bouquet.

“For me?”

“Absolutely, Beverly, for everything you’ve done for Miranda.”

“Well aren’t you sweet!” she exclaimed, pausing between each word. She hugged Grey, sandwiching the flowers between the two of them. My mother bounded backwards as she heard the crunching of stems and quickly took the flowers from Grey. “Thank you so much, but it’s nothing, really, anything for my beautiful daughter!” My mom quickly kissed my forehead and scurried to the kitchen to put our flowers in some water before Grey could answer.

He sighed, forcing a smile. “Alright babe, gotta go. But I have a surprise for you tomorrow that I hope you’ll like! Love you.” He planted a lingering kiss on my lips, and I held him there, exhaling in delight. I looked into his smoldering hazel eyes and was reminded that Grey was anything a girl could ask for in a boyfriend. Sweet, caring, affectionate, and not to mention, hot as fuck. As he walked down the front stairs, taking a parting glance at me, our eyes didn’t meet. I had been eyeing a certain brick house across the street.

* * *

“All ready to go?” Brock asked, popping his head through my doorway.
I was sitting at my vanity, adding some final curls to my hair, and I turned to furrow my newly-plucked brow at him. “Uh...yeah? Why?”

“Erik and his buds are picking us up at 10:30.” I tipped my head and narrowed my gaze at him. Us?

“What do you mean, us?” I thought out loud.

“Hey, I was surprised to hear you were tagging along, too. Gudbranson’s closer to my age than yours. You’re the old lady of the group.” He was right. I was the eldest, but it wasn’t like I was a pruning grandmother in comparison. It was only two years. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked, in the tone of a thirteen-year-old. “Saw the flowers he brought. Didn't know he had a vagina."

“He’s working.” I replied, with a hint of venom in my voice. “And maybe if you learned a thing or two from him you’d actually have a girlfriend.”

“Shut up!” he shot back, tugging playfully at the collar of his blue polo. The white Ralph Lauren logo was practically reflecting the light. “I’m workin’ on it.”

He was startled by his phone vibrating in his pocket and stood upright in the doorway. “They’re here.” He spun around on his heels and barreled down the stairs like he was a seven-year-old on Christmas day. I turned off my curling iron and took one last look in the mirror. Short denim cutoffs, black flip flops, and a forest green crop top. It showed just the right amount of midriff while still leaving much to the imagination. I smiled to myself and shook my head at the thought of how simple men were. There was no need for fancy pieced-together outfits. Some skin and leg was all it took.

My brother opened the door and greeted Erik, slapping hands with him and doing the infamous bro handshake abused by male adolescents all around North America. From the top of the stairs, I could see the way Erik’s royal blue v-neck made his brown eyes look extra-bottomless. I descended down the stairs gently, shooting a slow smile in his direction. Leslie called it, ‘bait.’ I called it...being friendly.

“Hey Leslie. Ready to go?” he asked. He had already headed out the door before even waiting for my response.

Brock quickly followed like a puppy. “Uh...yeah,” I answered to nobody. They were already down the driveway and opening the vehicle doors.

When I finally walked towards the car, I was surprised to see Erik holding open the passenger door for me. His massive hand was outstretched for me to take as I stepped inside the low Audi, and I placed my hand in his. I raised my brows at him. “Hmm, chivalry. Go Donna!”

He smiled. “She taught me well.” As I settled into the vehicle, Erik jumped in to the back and I took a look at the driver. Even in the dark, I could see how tan his skin was. He wore a white and blue checkered flannel with an Oakland A’s cap teetering on the back of his head, pointed skyward. He took a look at me, and his gaze quickly shot straight ahead. I introduced myself, but he nodded at the steering wheel rather than at me, saying nothing and tightening his grip on it. By the way Erik had bolted out of the house at the very sight of me, I was uncertain that my theory about the simplicity of men was accurate. However, the way this guy was looking at me, or not looking at me, was reassuring.

“Sorry, Greg isn’t good with girls. Especially pretty ones.” I felt a face creep towards mine from in between the seats, and my neck craned towards the window to avoid bonking heads. I was also trying to avoid his putrid breath, which already reeked of beer, and his face was so close to mine that I could see each individual piece of gold stubble on his jaw. “Ryan. A pleasure.” His eyes started on my legs then drifted up until they settled on my chest.

Greg lightly shoved Ryan back as he put the car in drive, and Ryan flew backward as if he had been body slammed. He grunted as his head hit the headrest, and the orange Texas Longhorns cap that sat backwards on his head flew off of his head.

Greg smiled and shook his head, pulling out of the driveway. “Dude, I barely even touched you.”

“Shhhhhhh,” Ryan replied, extending his index finger towards Greg. He aimed for Greg’s lips, but ended up stroking it along his cheek.

As Greg swatted Ryan’s hand away and my brother chuckled in the back seat, Erik leaned forward. “I promise he isn’t this obnoxious. Most of the time.” I turned to look at him, and I was startled at how close his face actually was. He had leaned all the way forward. He smelled of shampoo and peppermint, and his lips were pressed together.

I smiled weakly and forced myself to turn forward just as the streetlights began to reflect in the brown pools of wonder he called eyes. I wanted to open the car door, tuck and roll, and run back to my house as fast as I could. I was having inappropriate thoughts about another guy after my absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend had just given a bouquet of flowers to my mother. Yet, I turned back towards him, smiled, and handed Ryan his cap back. “Hey, we’re all allowed to get a little wild sometimes, aren’t we?”

“That’s right! See? Listen to her, I like this girl. Cute and smart.”

“Smart? That’s a good one. Someone with half a brain would have known how to manage their money well enough to still be living on their own and to not have to move back in with their parents,” Brock blurted out proudly, barely taking a breath between words.

Greg raised his brows, and I shot my brother a venomous glare. “What a man, Brock. Strong words coming from a guy with the alcohol tolerance of a fourteen-year-old girl. After two beers you’ll be twice as gone as this guy.” I nodded to Ryan with my chin.

Ryan spat out a laugh, while Greg and Erik let out a few stifled giggles of their own. Ryan stuck his face in Brock’s, almost falling into his lap. “Fuck you, I could out-drink you any day of the week.”

“First of all, you couldn’t, and second, I’m not the one who threw up at Grandma’s birthday brunch last month over two cosmos and a Miller Lite from the night before.”

The entire car erupted in laughter. “No way that actually happened,” Greg said almost inaudibly through his laughter, eyes on the road the whole time.

“It was a 24 hour flu, okay?! And tonight we’ll see just who’s more tolerant.”

“Alright, little brother. Whatever makes you feel better.” I turned back forward with my chin held high and I smiled to myself. Miranda 1, Brock 0.

* * *

I slammed my fourth empty shot glass of the night down on the table, holding my arms up in the air triumphantly as the boys applauded me. As the music in the bar pumped loudly, I raised my shoulders along to the beat and motioned with my hands for Greg and Erik to bring it. As I felt the warm glow of tequila in my chest, Greg and Erik’s heads tilted back as they downed their shots. Greg’s faced twisted and Erik blew out heavily, eyes watering. “Oh come on, boys! Weak.” Erik flashed a bright white smile, and I could practically hear the angels singing. Then I realized it was Ryan, screaming along to the song that was playing. I couldn't be blamed; when looking at a guy like Erik, everything seems angelic. I tried to picture the fourteen-year-old lanky braceface I once knew sitting in the place of the perfectly chiseled statue that sat before me.

My brother was at the bar chatting up a little bleach blonde, who twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke to him. Ryan had leaned over our booth into the next one to try and get the attention of the circle of wasted women that sat around it. Greg and Erik were looking around the bar nonchalantly, seemingly bored. I tossed my hair behind my shoulders, straightening up. Time to spice things up.

“So Erik, when are you going to show me your moves?” I tried to tilt my head flirtatiously, but I had to steady myself on the back of the booth as the tequila had started to take over.

“Whenever! I’ve got the whole month ahead of me. Just say the word and we’ll pick up some sticks and hit the street.”

“No, not those moves...” I took his hands in mine and scooted towards of the edge of the booth.

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, then his face fell once he realized I was trying to pull him to his feet. “Nonono, I don’t dance,” he replied, shaking his head violently and letting his hands slip from mine.

I cocked my hip and put my hands on my hips. “You’re not going to let me just stand here, are you?”

He smiled with an impressed look on his face, and crossed his arms. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Unless Greg wants to dance with you.”

Greg had been staring at his empty shot glass, almost as if he believed it would fill itself back up if he willed it hard enough. His head immediately shot up, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke first. “How about I get Ryan another drink, then?”

Ryan had practically climbed over the booth, his ass up in the air, inches from Greg’s face. When he heard me say his name, his head sprang in my direction. “Huh?”

“Another drink?”

“Absolutely!” he shouted, limply whipping his hand in the air to give me a thumbs up. He ended up smacking the girl in front of him in the back of the head instead.

As I spun around and headed for the bar to the sound of the girl squabbling with Ryan, I felt a strong hand encircle my forearm. Erik whirled me around, which caused my loose chestnut curls to bound on my chest. His eyes flashed for an infinitesimal moment, then looked at me sternly. “You’re not seriously getting him another drink, are you? He’s clearly done.”

“Watch me.” I cocked a brow and turned to the bar once more, Erik following closely behind. I bit my lip to hide a smile. It was so invigorating, having Erik chase after me. He’d been friendly, yet distant, all night. It was like I was another one of the bros, and I’d never been in that situation before. I was always the cheerleader on the field, and around him, I felt like the girl in the bleachers.

I reached the bar, and motioned to the bartender. A few guys approached Erik asking for a picture, and I watched over my shoulder as he posed, his eyes on me the whole time. When they thanked him and walked off, he stormed over to the bar, snatching the beer right out of the bartender’s hand before he could place it down in front of me. He tipped his head back, chugging the entire contents in a matter of seconds.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

He let out a quiet belch, and steadied himself on the bar. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but stop, okay? Just stop!"

I’d captured his attention. I could have backed off, could have given in, but his voice had faltered. It had almost gone soft. I knew I was close, so close. Erik Gudbranson was standing inches away, the sleeves of his blue v-neck stretching taut against his biceps, his deep brown eyes looking both fiery and defeated. The old Miranda, the Miranda who had it all, would have never let me walk off without ravaging him. I stepped closer and reached out, lightly tracing my index finger along his pecs. I expected him to move, or to brush my hand away. But I didn’t. “You don’t have to get all serious. Tonight’s all about having fun, and getting...reacquainted. Easy.”

He brought a hand to his hair, my finger still grazing his chest. He looked up, from side to side, behind him. Anything to avoid looking at me. I pushed up on my toes, leaning in, to bring our faces closer. When I spoke, it was a mere whisper. “All I want is for you to dance with me.” I gazed up at him through my lashes. I kicked the mental image of a skinny teenager to the curb, accepting him for the built marvel that he was. If I was going for it, it would be with no regrets.

His expression hadn’t changed. The way he was hesitating, I knew he wanted to say no. He wanted to. But he wasn’t. His eyes were unsteady, unable to focus on any part of my face. What exactly made this so complicated for him? Why couldn’t he just give in?

I had waited and waited, finally lowering back down off of my toes and dropping my hand from his chest. Before it could fall to my side, he grabbed it. Suddenly, everything in me felt buoyant. Whether it was the alcohol, the thrill of living in the moment, or the fact that Erik was leading me towards the dance floor, my insides were stirring. Greg was left to deal with the drunken mess that was Ryan. Brock had his tongue down the blonde chick’s throat. The room was beginning to blur, and I felt dizzy. Despite it all, not a single thought was in my mind other than my hand in Erik’s.