Page 51 of The Legend Next Door
Sorry. I haven’t been creeping on you or anything.
Is that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
I sincerely don’t think so, but I also don’t think I have it in me to correct myself.
I should’ve gone to bed early tonight. Spying on Jeremiah was a bad idea. It’s one thing to watch him from my bedroom window. That can’t always be helped because I have a thousand yards of fabric to draw, and I actively can’t help seeing what he’s up to while I do it, but I think watching from the front of the house, in the dark, puts it in another category altogether. And not a good one.
I shouldn’t have let myself do this.
I have a crick in my neck now, which I richly deserve, and on top of that, there’s a tight knot forming near the base of my skull. I’ve probably brought on another headache, and I can tell it’s going to be a bad one. It’s going to be as bad, if not worse, than the last one I had.
I wonder if he’d be prepared to give me another massage if it gets really bad?
I think he might. He didn’t seem to mind last time despite everything that happened afterward.
Various emotions bubble up when I think about it. I push them down as hard as I can. When that doesn’t work, I try to call up the toy because even though thinking about that is a mindfuck, it’s a lot easier to deal with than thinking about how good he felt in my arms.
Kidding. I know you can see my house.
I wasn’t THAT out of it.
And don’t worry, I know you aren’t a creep.
Hmm, the jury’s out on that one.
To distract him—and myself—from further creep allegations and having to delve too deeply into why I’m behaving like this, I opt to keep the conversation going.
You WERE super out of it the other night.
You were singing at one point.
It’s true. He was. Even though they weren’t playing, he sang the Vipers’ goal song every time either team came close to scoring in the third period. He was supposed to change the lyrics of “It’s Raining Men” to “It’s Raining Goals,” but he didn’t.
My memory of it is patchy, and it didn’t come back to me until a few days later, but he definitely was singing that night, and with a lot of gusto. He even made up a little dance to go with the song. It was kind of the best because he was hammered and looked sleepy and sweet, and he did this little shoulder thing when he got to the chorus. It was cute.
What? I can say cute if I want.
Across the thick black expanse of the vegetation that separates his house from mine, I see Jeremiah look down and smile as he types. It’s the kind of smile that makes his shoulders hunch and the light bounce off his cheeks. The lights are blue tonight. A soft, cool shade that highlights the shadows around his eyes and mouth and makes him look soft and cool too.
Me? Singing? Neverrr.
You totally did.
Pics, or it didn’t happen.
Come over on Friday for a rematch, and I’ll get pics.
Luca, Cam, and Rory are all going to Liz’s mom's and dad’s place this weekend for a two-night sleepover that’s been heralded as the “most fun sleepover of all time,” so I’ll be home alone.
I love spending time with Luca, I do, but it’s good to have a guys’ night with an adult from time to time. It’ll be nice to have Jeremiah over. I had a great time with him the other night. It’ll be fun. It’s what friends do. Hang out, chill, watch TV, and throw a few drinks back.
It’s not like I’m asking him out.
Across the way, Jeremiah looks up, eyes tracking from window to window until they arrive where I’m standing.
I’ll bring wine.
I’ll hide the tequila.
