The Jerk Next Door

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Feeling like an intruder, Eliza entered Noah's apartment. She then tip-toed silently to the kitchen in case his roommate, Nate, was near.

Even though Nate made her curious, she dreaded her next encounter with him. The boy made her lose her means. Instead of being her usual collected self, she became a sputtering, hammering girl. And she didn't like this situation one bit.

Unfortunately, she couldn't seem to help herself.

Eliza made her way into the kitchen. There was a cereal box on the counter, as well as a half full cup of coffee. Eliza chuckled. Obviously, the words 'making breakfast' didn't have the same meaning whether it was her or Noah who defined it.

The girl poured herself a bowl of milk and added the cereals. As she leaned against the counter, savouring a well deserved meal, she noticed an open book lying on the counter. She looked at it closely and realized it contained drawings.

Eliza enjoyed to draw and knew that sometimes, it could be as private as a diary. She experienced it herself..

At a young age, she used to paint colourful sceneries, putting as much colours as she could in her pieces of art. She was so proud of them that she'd run to her brother and show him what she did the minute it was completed.

Eliza absentmindedly started stroking the notebook, her eyes unfocused, unseeing. She was deeply lost in her memories.

Yes, she could easily remember those good times. No matter what he was doing, Matt would stop right away and listen to her explanations, an indulgent smile plastered on his face.

But then everything changed. Nobody was there anymore. He was gone, as well as the colours. Everything she drew was dark, gray, violent. Until the day she stopped painting altogether.

Her drawings were private. She liked to keep this period of her life for herself. And she knew better than looking at these without the artist's consent.

But for some reason, her principles didn't seem to matter in this situation. Eliza was feeling a strange, magnetic pull towards them...

With shaking hands, she turned the pages back to the beginning. There, at the back of the front page was a highly unexpected sight : the name Nate Johnson, written in a careful manner. Eliza never considered him the artsy type.

A nagging voice at the back of her head told her that maybe Nate and her were more alike than she had initially thought.

But her down-to-earth side pointed out that it was impossible : A guy as rude as him couldn't be anything like her.

Her attention drifted back to the drawings in her hand. What she saw there made her gasp.

Nate's drawings were somehow so different than hers, and at the same time, so much alike. He used colourful tones, making the scene seem so real, so alive, it was almost as if Eliza was gazing at a picture. The colours reminded her of the happy times she used to paint, using those exact tones.

Though what she saw wasn't a happy scenery.

There was no man leaning down, patting his son's head in a proud and paternal gesture. There was no couple snuggling on a bench in a park, watching the sunset.

The scene, so alive, seemed so dead at the same time. It was almost painful to watch because of this contrast. The picture seemed to come straight out of a nightmare. A little girl was laying still, her eyes closed, a horrible grimace stuck on her soft features. Blood was pouring out of her body from many gashes. All around her, covering the whole page, were the words 'Mea Culpa' repeated over and over again.

Eliza's breath hitched. The painful image was too much to bear. She quickly turned the page. And then another one. And again. And again.

To her horror, every page contained an image of the girl, in various moments of her life - sometimes watching TV, sometimes talking to a friend,- but every time a grimace decorated her innocent face and she suffered from mortal wounds.

The words framing the drawings varied. Sometimes, instead of 'Mea Culpa', Eliza could see tons of 'I'm Sorry' covering the pages.

Eliza closed her eyes and tried to relax. She didn't know what Nate had been through, but the raw pain emanating from his drawings made her question it. She wondered if it was as bad as what she had been through.

One thing was certain, he was feeling as guilty as her over whatever happened.

Opening her eyes, her gaze drifted from the notebook to the door. A startled scream escaped her lips. There was Nate, looking a her steadily, leaning against the doorframe.

Her cheeks flared and her heart started beating wildly and her breathing accelerated. She knew she had just been caught.

What if he screamed at her ? Told Noah and Caro what she was doing ? Told them that she was too noisy for her own good and they shouldn't be friends with her ? What if -

"I'm not exactly found of stalkers, you know. Somehow, I find that trait highly unattractive. A boy needs his space." His trademark smirk made an apparition on his face, softening his hard features.

Eliza's stiff posture relaxed then. He wasn't going to mention the drawings at all.

"I, uh, only came for breakfast" She mentally chastised herself. Here comes the hammering again.  

Nate raised a brow. "And you couldn't eat back at your place because... ?"

"There was a little problem. Noah told me to come over."

A knowing smile made its was on his face. "Ah ! I see. Caro must have something to do with that.. She cooked something for you ?" he inquired.

"No !" quickly responded Eliza, trying to save her friend.

Her quick reaction only caused Nate to smile wider. "So you're difficult then eh, princess ? A good intention can't satisfy you ?" was his sarcastic reply.

Eliza chose to ignore the bait.

"Princess ? I didn't know we already were on a nickname basis in our relationship."

"And why wouldn't we, baby?" He asked, giving her a suggestive wink.

"No reason, Don." Eliza smirked back. She wasn't going to let him get on her nerves.

"Don ? Princess, you do know that my name's Nate, right?"

She only shrugged. She wasn't going to respond 'Of course I know it' because she was fairly certain he'd reply something in the lines of 'Of course you remember it. I'm unforgettable, after all.'

So instead of giving him this opening, she laconically responded. "Stands for Don Juan."

At that, Nate chuckled, clearly amused.

"Well, I should get going." smiled Eliza. "You draw very well, by the way." she added in an afterthought.

Nate blinked a few times, taken aback. "Thank you" he mumbled.

Eliza raised her brows and put her hand on her heart, feigning shock. "You're turning soft. That was an actual polite word coming out of your mouth !"

For a second, a ghost of a smile made an apparition on his face. But then his usual demeanour came straight back and he scolded at her. "Goodbye," he said rudely, turning around to leave.

Eliza smiled a bright smile. "You're welcome," she shouted at his retreating back.

She then skipped back to her flat next door.

The jerk next door laid his soul on paper and she witnessed it. He didn't know she knew his drawings were more than simple drawings. Thant they were a reflection of the turmoil he was feeling.  

But quite honestly, she didn't care about what he did and didn't know.

She just caught a glimpse of what laid behind the boy's armor. And she wanted to see more.