The Men Next Door

Ch 18 - Brooks

November 17th was my birthday. I was turning 33, which felt old as fuck when my best friend was 25 and the woman I was pining after was 26.

Luca knew I wasn't big on birthday celebrations, and I hadn't mentioned it to our newest neighbor for the same reason. Nobody needed to throw me a party or sing me a song to commemorate another successful trip around the sun. But Cam was one of the few people whose company I enjoyed more than my own, so I invited her over despite myself.

As far as I knew, it was just going to be another neighborly hangout. Well, as neighborly as we'd ever been since the night I offered to help her settle in, anyway. I still didn't know if that vibrator she left on the nightstand had cursed me to heartbreak or opened the door to something special, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it before I heard three big thuds against my front door.

When I pulled open the wooden barrier to reveal Cam, my attention was immediately drawn to the big, round serving tray in her hands. I figured that she kicked the door in lieu of knocking, because there was no way she could've lifted an arm without dropping the damn thing — or the pristine cake on top of it. 

"What is that?" I asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"A birthday cake, of course," she said slyly, like she was proud of her top-secret knowledge.

I couldn't hold back a small smile. "How did you know it was my birthday?"

"Because you're too type A to hide something like that, Brooks. It's written right there on your calendar," she deadpanned, nodding over my shoulder to the dry erase board where I planned out my month in detail.

Shit, she's good.

"Also, Brenna messaged me on Instagram to make sure I knew."

"Fucking hell, of course she did," I complained. "How did she even find you? I've never told her your last name."

Cam shrugged. "You follow me, she follows you... I'm guessing you don't know many Campbells."

I sighed. "Okay, okay. You got me. But no singing."

"But—"

"No singing," I repeated more firmly. "I don't want to stand here and get serenaded about becoming an old man."

"Fine, you grump," she conceded with a huff. She sat her confection down on the counter and looked at me with crossed arms. "But we're going to light these candles, and you're going to blow them out and make a wish to humor me."

"Maybe if you stop acting like a drill sergeant," I joked, giving her a challenging look. "We both know who's in charge here."

Campbell grinned, uncrossed her arms, and closed the gap between us. "Better?"

She looked up at me with the world's sweetest expression, and I lifted her so she could wrap her legs around my waist. "Much better."

"Will you blow out the candles?" she whispered against my lips. "Please? For me?"

"Okay. For you," I whispered back, leaning my forehead against hers. "But we're going to eat some real food first. Deal?"

"Deal." She gave me a soft, rewarding kiss for agreeing with her, and it made me want to let her have her way all the damn time. "Happy birthday, Brooks."

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said as I sat her feet back on the floor. "What flavor is the cake?"

"Red velvet. You said it was your favorite when we played that card game."

Huh, so she really paid attention that night. "Did you make it or buy it?"

"Made it."

"Should I be worried?"