The Men Next Door

Ch 22 - Brooks

I surprised Cam at the airport when her flight landed on Friday evening. Her suitcase wheels rattled against the tile floor as she hurriedly closed the distance between us, and when she crashed into me like a wave against a rocky shoreline, I let out a big sigh of relief.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed against my chest. Her arms were wrapped around my torso like a vice grip, and anybody watching from the sidelines probably thought we'd been apart for a year.

It almost felt like it.

I'd spent days worrying that she'd regret our little fling after spending some time away from it all. That she'd experience something on the west coast that sent her searching for more change, somewhere far away from me. That I let myself feel too much, too quickly. But none of that mattered once she was in front of me again.

I held her close and traced my fingers up and down her back. I usually would've ran them through her hair, but she had it all tucked away in a neat french braid. "I wanted to make it a little easier to come back to the cold city. I hope that's okay."

"Of course that's okay," she answered, getting on her toes to prove her point with a kiss. "That's why you were asking what flight I was on. I thought you just wanted to make sure I got home safely."

I winked at her. "I do want to make sure you get home safely, but I'd rather be here to escort you back."

I gave her one more tight squeeze, then took charge of her luggage as we headed for the taxi hub to hitch a ride home. It didn't take much work to find a driver — although the annoying ad screen on the back of the headrest made me wish I scheduled an Uber instead — and we made it to our building in one piece despite the erratic stop-and-go traffic. Pair that with the congestion surcharges that the City of New York tacked onto the bill, and I couldn't help but wonder why I stayed in Manhattan after I left my last publishing job.

Believing in fate and all the stars aligning was more in Luca's wheelhouse, but maybe I was still there for a reason. Maybe it was to meet Campbell, or maybe it was to learn some tough lesson that only the heartbreak of watching my girl fall for my best friend could teach me. Or — the most likely option — maybe I was overthinking it and there was no reason at all.

Only time would tell.

When we finally clambered out of the cab, I followed my neighbor's lead through the lobby and into the elevator. It was late — the poor girl had a layover in Dallas and a delayed flight to boot — and our gentle touches and soft smiles did all the talking for us as we ascended to the fifth floor.

I took the first step onto the ugly vintage hallway carpet before Cam's sleepy voice broke the comfortable silence. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

The illusion of choice was strong, but there was only one possible answer to that question. "Always."

We settled into my place, and Cam commandeered my bathroom to complete her nightly routine. Going one night without brushing your teeth was absolutely blasphemous if you asked her, so she demanded her own toothbrush the first time she stayed over. Then one night turned into two, and two turned into three, and by the time we got to five, well... I hoped my damn toothbrush would never have to stand alone again.

Nylon bristles get lonely too, you know.

Once my own teeth were squeaky clean, I joined my neighbor under the covers. One of my favorite shirts was hanging off her shoulders and peeking out from the top of the sheets. "What's this?" I asked, tugging gently at the neckline.

"A shirt."

Her tone told me I should know better than to ask such silly questions at the godforsaken hour of 10:00 PM, and I gave her a challenging look. "That's a lot of sass for someone who could've carried her own luggage into a dark, empty apartment."