Page 39 of Bad Boy Neighbor

Fuck, don’t go there.

“It sounds to me like you’re scared of being alone. Leave that life, get a job, and follow your passions like everyone else. Stand on your own feet. Honestly, it ain’t that hard.”

With a dismissive glance, she looks at me as if I’ve said pigs could fly. “Easy for you to say, you have a family who supports you. They moved cities to follow your dream. My dream doesn’t exist. My father will make sure of that.” Her voice wavers, and I can see she’s lost, trapped by the power of a man who, in my opinion, doesn’t respect his own daughter.

I was too harsh, and now I feel like the biggest dick.

I move forward, bridging the gap between us, cupping her cheek in my hand. I want to reach in and tell her it isn’t hopeless, but she won’t believe me. Her eyes stare back at me with bewilderment, allowing me to touch her skin.

“You are worthy of living your own life,” I whisper, my voice clouded by the steam rising from the water. “Don’t let anyone else live it but you.”

“But I don’t know how to follow my dreams.”

I grab her hand, placing it against her chest, watching the water cascade down her heated skin. “You follow what’s in here. What does it tell you?”

Staring into her eyes, she’s only inches away from my lips. I want to kiss her, beg her to unleash on me, but I know there are cameras everywhere, so I begin to pull away slowly, waiting for her response.

“It tells me we need to get out because my skin looks like a prune,” she says, then shifts her gaze to meet mine. “And nothing good will come from being drunk with you in this spa.”

It’s the most honest thing she’s said all night.

Despite my reluctance to pull away at this moment, I have to respect her decision. I owe her at least that since no one else will.

We get changed, separately, and head back to the car.

The ride home is quiet. We listen to music and open the windows to let the cool night air inside.

When I park the car out front and walk her through the gate, she says goodnight until I call her name from the bottom of the steps.

She turns around, watching me with her curly hair falling past her shoulders. I want to go inside, make sweet love to her, and promise her more than I should, considering the time we’ve spent together. But I don’t want to push that boundary, not when I am unsure of exactly which path to go down myself.

I am not sure of anything.

“I wasn’t meant to ride my bike that night, but arrogant me wouldn’t listen to my coach. I was above his direction when it came to after hours.” I clear my throat, closing my eyes. “The guy in the car, he blew three times over the limit. Ran a red light, and I had no chance.”

Gabriella doesn’t say a word, instead stands perfectly still and listens.

“I have nightmares every night, which is why I have insomnia. So, that’s i-it,” I stammer. “That’s it.” I didn’t know what else to say, baring my soul to her in a way I never have with anyone else. Not Ma or Pa or even my two-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapist.

Gabriella’s footsteps move toward me, stopping at the step just above where I’m standing. Her arms wrap around my neck, and there, under the moonlight, she holds onto me tight, the scent of her skin only inches away from my lips.

“I know that was hard,” she whispers against my ear, “But thank you, Olly. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I don’t want her to let go. Something forewarned me that opening up to her was more than getting something off my chest. I’m trusting her with my heart and soul.

A messy way to get incredibly hurt.

Twelve

Gabriella

Iwoke up the next morning feeling brand new.

My body clock woke me at exactly half past five, after what felt like the most magnificent and peaceful sleep ever.

Lately, I dream every night. The dreams vary between certain animals, snakes in particular, to falling off the edge of a building. They have been so vivid, often causing me to wake up utterly exhausted from the constant worry.

This morning was different.

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