Lovers Next Door

The Boy with the Pretty Eyes

Cara Houston was a free spirit. She never had to deal with rules or restrictions, enjoying a happy childhood with only her dreamy-eyed mother as her friend rather than a guardian. Fierce, outgoing and with a passion for art, the blonde firecracker was a force to be reckoned with.

Calum Peters was considerably not so exciting. With his strict parents and intense fear of almost everything, he spent his days reading and avoiding his four brutish older brothers. But inside this shy shell was a boy yearning for adventure, a life outside the dull and dreary one of Berkley Street.

Both their lives were forever changed when Cara moved into the house next door to Calum's. And from the moment they first met, there was a spark.

They shared countless happy memories together and were practically inseparable, especially after that hot glue gun incident.

But high school approaches and friendships rifts and popularity dramas slowly tear the two best friends apart.

Until one miracle brings the two ex-friends back together - involving a secret so big that none of them saw it coming.

But will they ever only be just childhood besties? Or will they become the cliché lovers next door?

~*~

January, 2006

"Mummy! There's still one more box left in the truck!" Cara wailed at the top of her lungs.

She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. She needed to go check if her art equipment had arrived safely and the mover man was giving her the absolute creeps.

Her mother always said to never trust strange men and she wasn't about to disagree with her now.

Cara would have carried the box in herself but it was filled with her late grandfather's knick knacks that were heavy and easy to break, and not something a five year old should be carrying.

Tears began to well in her eyes as she waited restlessly for her mother to come outside. Cara didn't know why she was crying and that frustrated her, making her want to cry even more.

"Do you need a hand, Miss?" a small polite voice asked from behind her.

Cara jumped a little before turning around, startled at the mysterious new voice.

Before her stood a boy with the messiest brown hair she'd ever seen, the kind that constantly flopped into his eyes.

And his eyes! she thought in awe. They were the strangest colour: a myriad of powder blue and periwinkle with speckles of a shimmering jade green.

She wished she could get a closer look at them. They were the kind of eyes she'd love to be able to draw.

Then the boy with the strange eyes blushed and bowed his head down awkwardly, his long dark lashes framing his eyes. A pale rose bloomed on his round cheeks.

Cara blushed too once she realised that she had been staring at him. Wanting him not to be shy so that she could get a better look at his eyes, she thrust out her hand and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Cara Houston. I just moved in with my mummy." She hesitated before adding, "I like your eyes."

The boy's blush deepened as he shook her hand with his own slightly sweaty ones.

"Salutations, Miss Houston. My name is Calum Peters. I live next door with my mother and father, as well as my four older brothers. I welcome you and your mother to Berkley Street and sincerely hope your stay to be pleasant."

Cara scrunched up her nose as she heard Calum's reply. He had talked like her grandpa but he looked the same age as her.

"Salutations? How old are you?" she asked, struggling to hide the amusement in her voice.

"I am six years of age, Miss Houston," he replied immediately, his minuscule Adam's Apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

"You can call me Cara. Miss Houston is what people call my mummy," Cara giggled.

Calum looked lost for a moment. Cara wondered if she had somehow offended him and took this as a chance to explain herself.

"Unless that is, you want me to call you Mr Peters? I prefer Calum, don't you? I mean it rolls off the tongue so much more easily. Cal-um. Ca...lum. Calum."

Calum couldn't help but give a small smile as Cara contorted her face into different shapes, enunciating his name in strange accents.

Calum was unsure how to reply to the girl who kept saying his name over and over in peculiar ways. Cara giggled again as she watched Calum struggle to answer her.

"You're a nervous one aren't you? Mummy says nervous men are stupid men but then again, she says tonnes of mean and false things about men. She says they're a rowdy dirty lot who fake everything about themselves."

Cara peered closer into Calum's eyes until their noses were almost touching. Calum sucked in a breath and avoided eye contact as she came closer and closer to his face.

"I don't think those eyes of yours are fake, Mr Peters. In fact, I think your eyes are the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, prettier than mummy's even. Would you mind me drawing your eyes Mr Peters?" she breathed against his mouth, their faces still nose to nose.

"Yes Miss-" Calum stopped himself and changed his answer. "I'd like that very much, Cara."

Cara nodded solemnly, her lips twitching to fight back a face-splitting grin. She stepped back, as Calum noticeably deflated with relief, before spotting her mother running down the stone steps of their new house towards the mover's van.

"Cara! There you are my darling! I'll fetch the last box and you can head back inside. The box with your art supplies is on the kitchen counter, you can't miss it. Oh, and who's this?" Patricia Houston heaved, breathless from her run.

With her honey-coloured hair tumbling down her back in soft waves and paint-splattered overalls adorning her tall slender frame, Trish was one who had always drawn in men like moths to a flame.

As if to prove this, the mover man himself took Patricia in with a heavy-lidded gaze that Cara did not like at all; it made shivers run down her neck and all the way to her toes. She reached out and grasped her mother's calloused hand into hers with an iron grip.

But what Cara didn't know was that there was no need for her mother to be protected - Trish had gone through more than her fair share of bad men and had learnt her lesson countless times. Despite the soft artistic soul Cara knew her mother had, she was no wilting daisy; she had a mind, and fist, of her own.

Calum cleared his throat and began his introductory speech again. "Salutations, Miss Houston. My name is Calum Peters. I live next-"

Cara's mother waved him off. "You sound like my father, Grandpa Houston. How old are you kiddo?"

"I'm six years of age, Miss Houston."

"Eh? None of this Miss Houston nonsense. Call me Trish."

After seeing Calum's look of horror at the prospect of calling an adult by their first name, Trish hastily added, "or Miss Houston's fine. Anything you're comfortable with Calum."

Calum visibly relaxed and gave a shy smile to both Cara and Miss Houston. They then all waved goodbye and headed back to their homes.

Calum was about to open his front door when he heard someone yelling his name. He turned around and saw Cara waving her little arms around frantically, trying to get his attention.

"Mr Peters? May I come over tomorrow to draw your pretty eyes? Pretty please?" she yelled, breaking the peaceful silence that was always present in Berkeley St at this time of day.

Of course, Berkeley St had never housed a certain Miss Cara Houston before.

Calum felt his cheeks redden and gave a quick nod before pulling open the door and slamming it shut behind him. He leaned against the pale wood and struggled to control his racing heart.

Cara Houston was, without a doubt, the most interesting girl he had ever met.