The Neighbor Next Door - Cassandra Dee Page 0,2
muffled shriek from the other side of my locked bedroom door, startling me. I start peeling the dress off. “Well?” she asks insistently.
“It’s okay, I guess,” I lie.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” she continues.
“Maybe another time!” I call back, throwing my regular clothes back on. The sudden baggy softness is comforting. What was I thinking, putting on a dress like that?
“You’re so ungrateful!” Vivian says in exasperation before stalking off. I roll my eyes and unlock the door before peering outside. Good. My mom’s gone. Finally, a moment’s peace.
For a moment I stand staring at the dress, playing with the idea of putting it back on and “accidentally” walking past my bedroom window. What would our hunky neighbor do if he saw? But as I glance out of the window, which affords me a full view of his backyard, pool and all, I can see he’s not even out there right now. Sighing in annoyance at myself for such a ridiculous idea in the first place, I put the dress on a hanger in my wardrobe. Vivian will have to return it.
Given my breathless daydreams about Trent, maybe my mom’s right. Maybe it’s time I got some action. After all, I’m definitely thirsting for it and what good will it do me to stick to reading romance novels and fantasizing about the new neighbor who will never notice me? I’m don’t want to be a pathetic loser.
Yet, I know myself too well to know that going to a party, meeting a guy and hooking up with him won’t work for me either. It’s just not my thing, and after having been such a wallflower through all of high school, it will draw way more attention than I’m comfortable. And even if I did go to some wild high school party, there’s still the issue with not being attracted to scrawny high school boys. No. If I’m going to find a big, strong, hung guy worthy of the word man, I’m going to have to go another route: online dating. I’m a shy, curvy virgin who wants a real man. There are apps for this stuff! Right? God, I hope so.
But hope springs anew, and suddenly excited, I sit down at my laptop and start searching for a good matchmaking site. I don’t want the kind of dating app you can just swipe left or right on. It’s been done to death. There must be new ones out there, for people like me who are a little less experienced with this sort of thing. For people who want to build an avatar and get to know someone a little before they meet up. Not just a hook-up app. Aha… what’s this? ChatWorld. Hmm, could this be the one?
Honestly, I’m not sure what to think because it’s not like I have a ton of experience with dating apps. But this one seems decent at least. There are three million members, and the male profiles I glance through seem legit. I heard that sometimes these apps create fake profiles to entice new users, but when you communicate with these so-called “people,” they never write back because they’re just clickbait. I don’t want to fall for that one.
But ChatWorld seems okay. The people are attractive, but not so attractive that I think they’re fake. Plus, there seems to be a good ratio of men to women. Sites that have way more dudes than women are a bad idea because the females get inundated with desperate come-ons. Uck, not what I want.
So slowly, I start filling out a profile. What to call myself? I could easily go with something like JaneJane or JanieBanie, but that seems too close to home. So instead, I go with HeartLove. So lame! But whatever. It’s not like this is real.
Next, I have to fill in my details and my heart sinks. Body type? Should I select curvy? I cup my huge tits with my small hands, watching them overspill onto my wrists. Are these the tits of a curvy girl or a “big” girl? And what about my ass? I don’t want to mislead anyone, after all. I cringe as I image a man expecting someone who looks like Kim Kardashian, and instead getting me, all creamy flesh and rolls. So intent on being honest, I look for the “big” option in the drop-down menu, but it’s not available. Curvy, it is, then.
I scroll through some of the selfies on my phone to find a profile picture, but