Next-Door Neighbour

Chapter 7: Getting to know you.

CALEB.

She sits across me on the floor. We are working on the essay for the past half an hour and we are almost done. She dictates the points and I jot them down on my notepad. The essay isn't so hard, I could do it on my own but she offered to help and I couldn't turn down the offer.

I watch her as she reads the book. Her hair is gathered on top of her head, and some loose strands of hair fall out, on her face. I like her this way—plain, simple and casual.

"What are you staring at?" She asks looking up from the book.

"You,"

"Why?"

"Because you are beautiful." She goes red blushing. I know I am not the first one to compliment her. She must receive compliments every time.

"Are you dating someone?" I ask out of curiosity. Because I plan on asking her out. She thinks for a minute or two before shaking her head for a 'no.'

She goes back to her book and pretends to read. I cannot concentrate on my essay anymore. I want to fix my concentration on her.

"Have you dated anyone before?" I ask and she looks up.

She hesitates before answering. "No."

"Ever been on a date?" I hope she shakes her head this time too. I want to be her first date. I would love to take her out for a romantic dinner.

"Can you concentrate on the essay?" She speaks. She has never been on a date. I smile. She goes back to her book and I doodle on the notepad.

"Um, do you have a girlfriend?" she speaks after a while.

"No,"

"Am I that bad a kisser?"

I smile. She gulps. "You will improve with practice," she looks down blushing and I add, "I could teach you." She looks up at me. A smile crosses her lips but she hides it quickly. I hold her gaze.

She takes her time before she asks another question, "Teach me how?"

"By giving you lessons,"

"Lessons on kissing?" she chuckles. Her chuckle is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I test my luck and crawl to sit beside her. She is alarmed at the closeness we are sitting at right now. I check for any signs that might tell me she is uncomfortable. I don't find any. 

"Why not?" I ask. I stare into her eyes. Her eyes, the colour of deep chestnut sat in almond-shaped eyes. "You anyways need them," I try to hold my smile. I see the expressions change on her face.

"I don't need any," She snaps and turns her attention back to the book. I laugh. She looks at me and hits me with the book. We both laugh.

She holds a hand to her chest and laughs, throwing her head back. I stare at her neck. There are blue marks on her neck, that resemble finger marks. My laugh dies and she notices this. She also notices that I have seen those marks. She is no longer laughing.

I don't ask her about the marks. She doesn't explain. She doesn't have to. I know who gave those marks. I know why she was crying the other night. I know why she is so afraid of him. Those marks explain everything.

I am instantly filled with rage. I wonder how long has he been doing this to her. Why does she tolerate these things? Why doesn't she report it to the police?

"How..." I begin but she interrupts.

"Don't ask," she whispers. I nod. I will ask about it only when she is comfortable enough to talk about it.