The Neighbor

The Talk

   I hesitated, then knocked. Quiet at first, then harder. The door creaked open; two yellow eyes staring back at me.

    "Amaya? What are you doing here? It's 2am." He looked at me, shocked. I didn't even notice the time. I spent the rest of the day after I left Niki's prepping myself for this conversation. There was really no way to prep for this guy though. I never saw untamed hair look so good. It took me only a few seconds to notice he was shirtless. I tried not to stare but couldn't bring my eyes to move. He was wearing jeans and no shirt. It took a lot of effort to restrain myself from running my hands down his chiseled eight-pack.

"We need to talk." But I couldn't remember why.

"Now?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"I know it's late, but.." I stammered.

   "Come in." He opened the door and stepped out of the way. I walked into his apartment cautiously. It was cleaner than I had expected it to be, everything neatly put into place. We had always met at my apartment. This was the first time I'd been inside his.

"Water?" He asked, heading to the fridge.

    I shook my head, "No thank you." He pulled one out for himself, taking a drink and came back in front of me.

    "Follow me." He said walking down the hall. I obeyed. Eventually, we stopped in front of a door near the end of his hallway. He looked back at me, hesitated, and opened the door. This room was drastically different from the others. There were clothes scattered about, closet doors opened, dresser drawers opened, but the bed was made. There was a duffle bag sitting in the middle of the room, half-filled. I realized it must be his bedroom.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" I asked, looking at the half-packed duffle.

   "I have some time." He said, throwing stuff into his bag. He was moving so quickly that I couldn't quite see what he was throwing in there. Then I made out a walkie-talkie. Why does he need a walkie-talkie? I tired not to look like I was staring, I stood awkwardly in the doorway. After a moment he looked back at me and laughed a laugh that melted my heart. I didn't know if I could have this conversation with him. I studied him hunched over the bag looking perfect, in case this was the last time I was able to.

   "What are you doing?" He said, smiling. When I didn't respond, he zipped up his duffle and walked over to me.

   "Amaya, what's wrong." He looked at me, concerned. I looked back down at his stomach and was tongue-tied. He squinted at me. He took my hand and pulled me to the bed, sitting me down. He sat down beside me, waiting.

   "I've loved spending time with you. It's been great, probably the most fun I've ever had." I struggled with the words.

   "I've loved spending time with you too, but I don't..." He said, searching my face for an explanation.

"I'm not capable of being long-term." I looked at my dangling feet.

    I witnessed as my words registered with him. "What is this about Amaya?" He sounded frustrated, almost angry. In the weeks we'd been hanging out I'd never seen him angry.

   "Don't you want something great? Something that'll last." I did my best to steady my wavering breaths.

"Yes." He said, standing up. "Why don't you think we could have that?" He paced in front of me.

I sat silent for a minute. "You deserve someone that knows how to stay."

He stopped in front of me, "Do you like me?"

My throat felt dry. I silently wished I had accepted the water he offered. "Yes." I whispered.

"Do you want to leave right now?" He moved in a little closer, watching me.