Page 19 of Never Kiss Your Neighbors

STELLA

One night the following week, I’m in the back yard after Jessie goes to sleep. It’s warm out, and I want to relax for a few minutes before I go to bed myself.

Marissa’s inside, listening to a crime podcast while she folds a massive pile of laundry. She waits until she’s nearly out of things to wear and then does a huge load all at once.

Goldfish was outside with me sniffing around a bit, but he got bored and asked to go back inside with Marissa.

I’m curled in the loveseat that’s on the back patio, listening to music on my phone and playing a mindless matching game while I enjoy the way the light breeze feels on my skin.

“Hello,” comes a voice out of the darkness.

I startle and look around, finally spotting the top of a head just over the back fence. The thick tousled hair is unmistakable, even in the darkness, though the nearly full moon helps me see his face when his eyes appear.

“Wyatt?”

“Hi, Stella. How’s it going?”

I walk over toward the fence. “Just enjoying the lovely night. How about you?”

“I was taking out the trash and thought I heard music from your yard.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought I had the volume down low enough.”

“You do, I just have good hearing. How was your day?”

“It was fine. The usual. What did you guys do? Build a pillow fort?” I’m mostly talking to the wooden fence, but if I shift to the side, I can catch a glimpse of him between the slats.

His laughter is a deep rumble. “No, but that’s a great idea. Our viewers would probably really like that.”

“I’m really confused about who your target audience is,” I admit.

“Sometimes I am, too,” he says, sounding rueful.

“What’s your channel name?”

“It’s kind of dumb. We were much younger when he picked the name.”

“What is it?” It feels like we’re sharing secrets out here in the dark.

“We’re called the Battle Duel Boys, BDB for short.” Then, completely changing his tone, as if he just remembered something, he says, “Hey, do you like chocolate chip cookies?”

I laugh at the quick topic change. “Who doesn’t?”

“I made a batch tonight. Wait here, and I’ll bring one for you to try.”

He returns quickly, handing me a cookie between the slats in the fence, our fingers brushing.

The cookie is still warm, and it melts in my mouth. “You made these?”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

My mouth already full with another bite, I can’t help but gush about it. “I love it. Are you kidding?”

“Good, because I brought a few more for you.” He hands a quart-sized bag filled with cookies over the fence. “You can share them with Jessie and Marissa, or keep them hidden all for yourself. I won’t judge.”

“I might eat them all before I go back inside,” I tell him.

“That also works. Speaking of food, we’d like to have dinner with you again sometime. Maybe just the three of us.” When I don’t answer right away, he says, “Or even better, just you and me. I’ll take you out to someplace nice, and we can leave Cam here.”

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