The Boy Next Door: A Standalone Small Town Romance (Soulmates Series Book 3) (9 page)

Chapter 16: Connor

I let Sarge outside for a few minutes and hid all the shoes in
the house. Then I got dressed, keeping it casual but taking into consideration
the kind of stuff Laney used to like.

For example, I knew she didn’t care for black shoes and that she
thought I looked great in blue. Or at least she once did, though the fact that
I remembered which shade was as disturbing as it was surprising.

After all, why wouldn’t something else have moved into my
headspace where all those little details about her once lived… like which Spice
Girl she liked best, the fact that she liked grapes but not grape flavored
things, and the fact that she could never remember Schubert’s name but would be
struck still by his music every time, as if she could hear it on a frequency
other’s couldn’t, as if it were written for her in a past life.

I didn’t want to remember that stuff.

And still, I pulled on a white and blue collared shirt because
my hand wouldn’t let me pick the red one.

It was so stupid.

Even taking her out to dinner was stupid. And I knew it. Just
like Dave said.

Running into her again was like finding a genie’s lamp that once
delighted you before it got you into loads of trouble. And yet, who wouldn’t
rub a genie’s lamp again? Just to see what was in store. Just because life was
more interesting with surprises.

At least I hadn’t lost the run of myself and made ridiculous
reservations at some fancy restaurant. That would be presumptuous. And awkward.
And not just because we’d never been to a fancy restaurant in our lives.

I’d dreamed of taking her somewhere she could get a decent steak
or a desert so chocolatey that her eyes would roll back in her head and she
would moan like she did when my hands were on her.

But it never happened.

Partly because she thought silverware was a poor substitute for
fingers, and partly because- by the time I had enough money saved to take her
somewhere nice- I already knew I wanted to buy her a ring.

But despite the casual dining habits we had, I was proud of the
reputation I’d earned of being her favorite gift giver.

Waddles was probably my best, but I used to get her loads of art
supplies and fancy wigs, too. She used to love fancy wigs. She’d wear them to
parties in high school and pretend she was different characters all the time.

As amusing as I thought it was, sometimes I’d suggest she let
people get to know her instead of acting so crazy. But she said the wigs helped
her be herself, not the other way around. Other times, she’d whisper in my ear
that she didn’t want to share her real self with anyone but me.

It was intoxicating.

So I kept spending my pocket money on wigs because I didn’t give
a shit what anyone thought as long as she was happy.

When I’d freshened my breath to the point that it smelled like
I’d swallowed a forest full of pine trees, I called Sarge back in and left the
house.

She opened the door in a wig.

I smiled. “I like you as a brunette.”

“This is the one I wore on Halloween, remember? The year I begged
you be John Smith.”

“Because you didn’t recognize the brilliance of my Spiderman
costume.”

“No. Only the tightness.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you liked it.”

“I did,” she said. “Until we had to leave the party because of
it.”

“Can’t say I remember you complaining at the time.”

She blushed, dropped her head, and pulled off the wig.

That’s when I noticed she was wearing a little blue wrap dress
that made her eyes pop.

“I still have them all,” she said, throwing the wig on the bench
inside the door and pulling it closed behind her. “Guess how many?”

“Eight.”

“Fourteen!” she said, her eyes wide.

“Are they getting much wear these days?” I asked, stepping off
the stoop.

She shook her head. “That’s the first one I’ve put on in years.”

“Still a thrill?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. But I’d rather be myself tonight.”

I glanced down to make sure she was wearing comfortable shoes.
Not that I needed to. I’d never even seen her in heels. She always maintained
that they made her walk like a zombie. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re
walking,” I said.

“I figured we would.”

“There’s something I want to show you on the way to dinner.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know if I’m up for any
surprises tonight, Connor.”

“What are you up for?” I asked, walking around so I’d be on the
street side of the sidewalk.

“Dinner.”

“Just dinner?”

“Maybe dessert,” she said.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She tucked some hair behind her ear and strolled along next to
me. “Is it weird to be back?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, living here again,” she said. “After all this time.”

I shrugged. “It’s weird to be in my folks’ house without them
there.”

“Have you been to their place in Florida?”

“Twice,” I said. “It’s in a development full of people their
age.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I suppose if my knees were shot and my skin were hanging
off me, I wouldn’t want to be living on the Miami strip either.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“The thought of your folks on the Miami strip.”

“Ridiculous, right?”

“First of all,” she said. “Your dad would probably get arrested
for wearing his pants so high.”

“Probably.”

“And I can’t imagine how the clubbing crowd would react to your
mom’s collection of plaid handbags.”

“I got her another one for Christmas.”

“I love people who are easy to buy for,” she said. “Like you
know anything plaid will be cool with your mom, and you can always get Helly a
crystal.”

“Everyone should have a thing like that to make people’s lives
easier.”

“What would yours be?” she asked.

I squinted up at a cottonwood tree as we walked under it. “I’m
always happy with tennis balls.”

“I suppose they’re great for making friends with potential
clients.”

“Bingo,” I said. “And you never turn down art supplies. I’ve
never known you to at least.”

She cast her eyes down and kicked some fluffy tufts of seed.
“How does this place compare to Cali?”

“The winters are a joke there,” I said. “At least where I was.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And there’s this weird energy people have. Like everyone’s in a
big hurry, but they don’t want you to know it.”

“So they’re not as chill as their reputation would lead you to
believe?”

“No. Don’t get me wrong. They’re way chiller than people from
the East Coast in terms of their default setting, but they’re not quite as
flighty and earthy as I thought they’d be.”

She nodded.

“And what about you?” I asked. “Helly told me you’ve only been
back a few days in years.”

“Yeah. Just to check on her.”

“Does small town life not suit you?”

She shrugged. “I think it does actually, but it scares me at the
same time.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why?”

“Because a place like Glastonbury can suck you in, ya know? Like
mud.”

“You like mud.”

“I also like how easily mud washes off.”

“So what are you saying? You think it’s a nice place to visit,
but you wouldn’t want to live here?”

“No,” she said. “It’s not that. It’s just… it’s not really a
singles hot spot, is it?”

“Are you kidding? You obviously haven’t been to the new
nightclub.”

“There’s a nightclub here?”

I shook my head. “No. Not unless you count the bingo club, but
they do stay out pretty late on a Friday.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was starting to think this place
might’ve really changed.”

“Not at all. I think the biggest change in the last few decades
is the fact that Heatons started selling laptops, but otherwise it’s probably
not much different from when Helly first moved here.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, stepping over the sidewalk
cracks.

“Personally, though, I think there’s something nice about the
fact that what you see is what you get.”

And as I glanced at Laney out of the corner of my eye, I
couldn’t help but wish everything were so simple.

Chapter 17: Laney

I never used to wonder if I’d be in Glastonbury forever.

I did think I’d be with him, though, and that wherever we ended
up would be perfect. As long as we were together.

So to say it was surreal to be walking along with him in such a
familiar place- having such familiar feelings- would be an understatement.

Too bad about us being estranged… And all those wilderness years
where we were lost to one another.

But I kept forgetting about all that, as if no time had passed
at all. Or as if it had passed, but we hadn’t left each other’s side.

And I knew I shouldn’t revel in the mystery of that feeling.

But it felt good.

Too bad the feeling was a lie. We hadn’t stayed together. We
hadn’t been inseparable, and thanks to me, he spent some of that time feeling like
shit.

And I felt bad, too.

But even if I’d had the wisdom to admit I’d made a mistake, I
was too stubborn to do so. Besides, I’d convinced myself that he hated me after
I turned down his proposal, and it’s surprisingly easy to avoid people who hate
you- even if it’s all in your head.

Even if you still love them very much.

But he didn’t seem bitter.

If anything, he seemed better than ever. And he wasn’t treating
me as hostilely as I deserved to be treated, which made the whole situation
even harder.

It was the same problem we always had. Or rather, that I always
had.

It’s not like I expected him to treat me like my mother did,
calling me nasty names that seemed to speak up at the back of my mind every
time I did something good or had a fleeting moment of pride.

And I didn’t expect him to treat me like her boyfriend did,
spitting in my face as he yelled at me and pulling my hair as I sank down
against the wall.

I knew that was wrong.

But Connor’s behavior was on the other side of the spectrum. Sure,
it was obviously the right side, the side where most people felt comfortable, but
for me it just felt like another extreme.

And extremity frightened me.

It frightened me as a kid in an abusive household, and it frightened
me as an adult. Even when the extreme feelings I had were good ones. Like love.

God I was terrified of the way I used to love Connor.

So when he asked if I could exist in that state forever, how
could I say yes?

It seemed impossible.

I mean, I may have been attracted to color, but I felt safest in
an all beige room.

I may have wigged out to the occasional dance track, but classical
music made me feel like I was on solid ground.

I may have felt alive the few times I’d been skinny dipping, but
I’d rather be cocooned in thick blankets any day.

And the love I felt for Connor back then was like skinny dipping
in a hot pink lake that bubbled to the sound of the bass.

Of course, I didn’t know how to articulate that then.

So I just said no and turned my back on the exciting feelings I
couldn’t trust.

And after having spent almost two years with Henry trying to
become a person who could tolerate feeling safe and loved, I freaked out again.

Except deep down I knew it was different.

Because I wasn’t afraid of the way I loved Henry the way I was
afraid of my love for Connor.

And I didn’t know what to make of that.

Did that mean it was bigger? More real? Less real?

I followed him through the gates of the park. I thought we were
just taking the shortcut into downtown like we’d done a thousand times, but he
stopped in the middle of the crumbling basketball court and hooked his thumbs in
the pockets of his noticeably well-fitting jeans.

“So,” he said, looking around.

“So,” I echoed, my eyes scanning the park. The playground
equipment looked more worn than I remembered and the old climbing wall was
missing more than half its grip hooks.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

I tilted an ear towards him. “Did you think I’d be more or less
surprised than I am?”

“This park’s about to get a makeover.”

“Thank god,” I said. “So the surprise is more like a before and
after reveal?”

He nodded.

“What’s it got to do with me?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Unless you want it to.”

“I’m listening.”

He sighed. “To make a long story short, the crumbling basketball
court has somehow become my problem.”

“Dave still getting you to do his dirty work?”

He smiled out of one side of his mouth. “Some things never
change, huh?”

“Go on.”

“But the court’s not the only part of the park that could use a
facelift.”

“That’s putting it kindly.”

He nodded towards the climbing wall. “Apparently the climbing
wall can’t be reinstated because there’s no life guard on duty here… to
paraphrase some legislative bullshit.”

“Because kids aren’t as hardy as they used to be?”

“Exactly,” he said. “But it’s a perfectly good wall.”

I cocked my head at it, letting my eyes scan the large bricks
that made up the freestanding structure. “It’s just ugly.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “If you ask me, it needs a
lick of paint.”

I squinted at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry, was that not obvious enough?” He cleared his throat.
“Let me try again.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I said, if you ask me, it needs a lick of paint,” he said,
extending his outstretched arms towards the wall like he was Vanna White
revealing an enormous vowel.

“Okaaay.”

“Jesus, Laney. Are you just being dense because you like it when
I act like an idiot?”

“Are you saying you think I should paint this wall?”

He squared up to me. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“I can’t paint this wall, Connor.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“It’s not my job for one thing.”

“It’s as much your job as anything else right now.”

“That’s rude,” I said. “Besides, I haven’t picked up a
paintbrush in-”

“Too long,” he said. “I know.”

I shook my head.

“Just hear me out.” He stepped up to me. “Close your eyes for a
second.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do it.”

I groaned and closed them.

“Remember the first big canvas you did? Remember how terrified
you were of wrecking it?”

I opened my eyes. “This is stupid.”

“Close your damn eyes.”

“Fine.”

“Remember how you overcame your anxiety and painted that awesome
tree frog?”

I smiled. “It was an awesome tree frog, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Do you remember how Helly put it up at the block party
and you were famous for ten minutes?”

“I think it was more like fifteen,” I said. “But yes.”

“Remember that time we went to the beach and you sketched the
lobster I ordered so we could remember its beauty forever?”

I kept my eyes squeezed shut. “I remember all the butter sauce
that dripped down your chin while you ate that poor thing. Are we done?”

“One more memory,” he said, his voice right behind my head.

I felt a charge travel up the back of my neck.

“Remember that field of wildflowers we used to play hide and
seek in?” he asked, walking around me.

“I don’t remember the sex ed teacher calling it hide and seek,
but obviously I do.”

“You know how you used to braid the wild grass together with the
purple flowers to make little chains for your head and ankles?”

“Yeah.” As if I could forget.

“You know I could go on, right?”

“I beg you not to,” I said. “I’m getting hungry literally and
also for your point.”

“Open your eyes.”

I opened them, and as I looked at his hopeful face, all the warm
feelings I’d tried to forget about flooded my chest.

“You have a gift for making things beautiful, Laney.”

“I don’t know.” I glanced at the wall behind him. “I wouldn’t
even know where to start.”

“I know it won’t be an easy job,” he said. “But it’s a job that
will have been worth doing if it inspires even one little kid.”

I folded my arms. “An unpaid job, I take it?”

“Will you do it?” he asked.

“As a favor to you?”

He shook his head. “No. Because you want to.”