Pedro's characters one shots

My Neighbour Joel Miller

No outbreak. Joel and reader are in their late 20s.

You were a teacher who had just taken a job in a small school in a small town on the outskirts of Austin TX. You had moved in from the city in search of more quiet and slow paced life. You rented an old house on a street with neighbors that were mostly old folks. Your next door neighbor was very much NOT an old guy. He looked to be about your age, and seemed to live alone just like you.

It was a week day when you started moving your things in. A Friday morning to be specific. The sun beat down on you as you slowly moved the pile of boxes into the creaky, wood house. There was something charming about this house. This whole neighborhood for that matter. As the sun began to set and the temperatures dropped, you wiped the sweat from your brow and slammed your trunk closed. That was enough work for today. You thought to yourself. You leaned against your car for a moment, taking in the view of your new home. You were roused from your pondering by the sound of tires on the gravel driveway next door. You looked over to see a man who you assumed was your neighbor. He hopped down from his truck and met your gaze. You felt slightly embarrassed. You didn't mean to stare. You smiled awkwardly, and he waved. "I'm guessing you're my new neighbor," he said with a deep southern drawl. You nodded "I'm afraid so." He chuckled. "Well, if you ever need anything. Just ask." He smiled at you once more before going into his own house. You went inside, all too aware that your cheeks felt a little hot. That Texas accent did something to you.

A few weeks had gone by and you noticed there was a young man who frequented Joel's house. They had to be brothers just by their looks. He had the same build, and same dark chocolate hair, only his way pretty much straight and Joel's had a curl to it. You never saw any women, or kids at the house. On a particularly scorching day you found yourself bent over the hood of your car, muttering expletives to yourself. You knew enough about cars to know that a blinking oil light on the dash was not a good sign. The problem was, you couldn't get the lid for the oil tank off. You groaned and rubbed your hand and wondered if there might be anything in the house that could help you unscrew the lid. Just then you heard Joel's front door slam. "Need a hand?" You looked up to see the broad shouldered man walking towards you. "I just might..I cannot get this top unscrewed." You stepped to the side and watched as his large, tan hands gripped the lid and slowly turned it. You felt a little embarrassed. "Well I must have loosened it up for you because I was working on that damn thing for about 20 minutes before you showed up." He looked up at you and smiled. "You could have just asked me in the first place. I would have been happy to help." You shrugged "I'm stubborn and have a hard time asking for help."

While you said these things Joel had continued working. He picked up the dipstick and wiped it on his t-shirt before sticking it back in to check the level. "You don't have to do that..you'll ruin your shirt!" He smiled at you again. "This is my work-shirt sweetheart, it don't matter if it's dirty." The nickname made your stomach do something funny. "What is it that you do for work?" You asked, watching him pick up the oil and funnel you'd set on the ground. "Contractor." He said with his head bent over focusing on the oil he was now pouring. You felt dumb for the question you were about to ask, but asked anyway. "So you build things?" Joel chuckled. "That's right"

"That explains why you're such a handyman." He shrugged and wiped his hands on his shirt. "I like to help where I can I s'pose" He let the hood of your car fall with a slam. "Door's always open if you need anything, you hear?" You smiled and nodded. "Thanks again Joel."

That evening Joel was out on his front porch with a beer and a radio. You decided to clean up and put a summer dress on and go get to know this neighbor of yours. That night was the first of many that you would spend together. Sometimes it was his porch, other times it was your porch. Sometimes it was your kitchen and you would feed Joel dinner and he would listen to you talk about your day. You did most of the talking, and he was a good listener. You realized he was a man of few words, but he didn't seem to mind you talking his ear off about anything and everything. You always ended up convincing yourself you were being crazy, but you swore there were times that he looked at you and caught him looking at you in a way that friends don't look at each other.