met anyone—least of all a man—with such beautiful eyes. They were hard and angry looking, but they were also beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. The vibrant blue was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
When I get home and pull into the driveway, I peek at the house next door. The neighbor’s garage is wide open, and he’s moving around inside. It’s hard to see clearly, but I glimpse just enough to make out his silhouette and the vehicle inside. I pause, wondering if I should go over there and say hi, but after how awkward this morning was, I decide not to. Instead, I get out of the car, but when I shut the door, the loud sound is enough to grab his attention. With his hands braced on the edge of his muscle car and the raised hood blocking half of him from view, he glances over. Even though it’s too far to see the color, I can practically feel the blue of his gaze on my flesh. His stare has a texture to it, one I can feel rolling through my body, traveling down my spine, as if it’s a roller in a massage chair. I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat, and I smile, waving at him. He doesn’t return the gesture nor does he smile. He just pushes off from the car, stuffs a red, dingy-looking bandana into the back pocket of his low-slung jeans, then hits something on the wall. The hinges roar, as the garage door kicks into action and shuts, shielding him from view.
Just like that.
My smile drops. My brows dip down even more.
Okay, I know I’m not imagining things now. My neighbor truly is a jerk.
A heaviness settles on my chest, and I shake my head, trying to let the sensation roll off me. I shouldn’t care or take his brush-off personally. Maybe he’s just a weirdo who likes his privacy? But a part of me, the bit that loves to please others and hates being disliked, that part of me won’t let it go.
I just don’t get it.
Ignoring the need to march next door and demand an answer for my neighbor’s brashness, I pop the trunk and start unloading my bags. I mainly bought some stuff for inside the house, but I also bought some yard and gardening tools at the hardware store. I figured I’d take advantage of the cool breeze and get to work on the backyard. I should probably start on the front first, but with the way the sun is beating down on the porch and scraggly lawn, I’ll take my chances in the back, where it’s shaded.
Dressed in my ratty Long Beach High tank top, a pair of capri yoga pants, and an old, abused Disneyland hat, I get to work in the back, pulling weeds. My next task will be getting the grass to grow back in the lawn because, right now, it mainly consists of dirt and weeds. It looks an awful lot like an abandoned field back here.
About halfway into clearing the back, I hear a scraping sound coming from the fence next door and the sound of something jingling together. Beads of sweat roll down my temples, and the sweat glides down my back uncomfortably. With furrowed brows, I turn toward the source. A white and black paw snakes out beneath the fence from next door. A smile crests on my face, as I drop the tools and pull the gardening gloves off. That grin suddenly drops when a growl sounds, and the dog next door, somehow, manages to push through a loose board in the fence—just another thing I have to fix—into my yard.
The husky’s eyes are what slam into me first. The dog’s almond-shaped eyes are so gray, they almost look white. His head has black and white markings. The black wraps around his eyes and ears, even trailing between his eyes, while the rest of his face is that snow white coloring. The markings between his eyes, along with their color, make him look astute and, dare I say, intimidating.
The husky prowls toward me, growling under his breath. I try to control my heart rate and take a slow step back. After dealing with so many animals and their different temperaments, I’m trained to handle these situations, but, for some reason, with each step away I take from the husky, I can’t seem to get my breathing in check. He’s so…intimidating. It’s almost like he’s scowling at me. The