Page 4 of Bad Boy Neighbor

I was supposed to count myself lucky. The damage could have been worse. It could have been a spinal cord injury leaving me paralyzed or even worse—dead. So according to my physicians, treating specialists, and every fucking opinionated medical dickhead, a shoulder injury is the best outcome I could have asked for.

Right! An outcome that resulted in me being unable to play soccer—indefinitely.

I rub my hands against my face, willing the voices to stop. It’s as if time is standing still until I hear a creaking noise at the door causing me to flinch.

The rabbit.

What the hell is the name of this thing again? ? I don’t think Seb mentioned if it were a boy or girl. I recall it was a fun name. Fun until I actually met it for the first time.

Fuck, it’s watching me.

It looks ready to attack—red eyes staring at me with a deathly stare. That thing can smell fear, I’m sure of it, just like dogs.

I sit up, composed yet shuffling as close to the wall as possible, paying attention to our distance. “Hey, bunny.”

Nothing. The silence instilling fear in me.

Okay, so maybe bunny isn’t the name. Like, who has a goddamn rabbit for a pet and allows it roam inside the house? Rabbits belong in pens outside in the backyard. I’m not sure this is even a rabbit, its the size of a damn pig or something. Bunnies are supposed to be cute. This one looks like it’s a lab experiment gone wrong.

“Rabbit?”

Nothing.

“Buns?”

Silence.

“Bun Bun, Bobby, Bubbles?—”

It hops out of the room as if it’s marked its territory and leaves me again with my thoughts. I let out the breath I had been holding in, allowing my head to fall back onto the headboard and resume my stare-off with the ceiling.

I will prove Lana wrong and find some other place to live in the next few days. Two weeks in this joint will suffocate me. I have my own penthouse apartment for Christ’s sake, with views of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House. In Australia, I’m royalty.

In this room—I am nothing.

I keep reminding myself this is temporary.

Temporary until I figure out my next move.

It’s Friday night, and unless I had a big game the following day, I can’t remember the last time I stayed in on a Friday night. I need to get out of here before Seb and Lana whip out a Monopoly board and call it a ‘family fun night’ in. At least, I figure that’s what married couples with kids do.

Manhattan Beach must have something on tonight. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I type in ‘Manhattan Beach nightlife’ to be met with some possibilities. A few bars, known local establishments, and anything with the words ‘happy hour’ will suffice.

I grab a pair of fresh boxers, my black jeans, denim shirt, and towel to head straight for the bathroom.

“Where you heading to?” Seb yells from the couch.

“Some pub or bar. I need to blow off steam… you know how it is,” I respond, just shy of the door.

Seb laughs, channel surfing with a Corona in hand. “A good ol’ blowie will cure the blues.”

It’s my turn to laugh. Despite Seb settling into married life, he hasn’t changed one bit. The guy was quite the player back in the day. It’s odd to see him so committed to family life now.

“Sounds spot on. Don’t wait up. Tonight will be my lucky night.”

Seb raises his bottle. “Good luck, Bud. I’ll see you for breakfast.”

If I have my way tonight, I’ll end up in some gorgeous woman’s bed blowing off some pent-up frustration. I can’t even recall the last time I’d been inside a chick.

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